Walk The Line

In the Beginning

The first experience James had ever had with his manipulation abilities had been when he was very young; the kind of young when all your memories thinking back seem warm and fuzzy. His parents must have suspected that there was something not quite normal about their son, but they were perfect family unit – to admit that you had a mutation resulted in being sent away until you had learnt to control them and to harness the powers – except no one ever returned. 

Really - all things considered - it was a miracle that he had ever been able to keep his abilities a secret for as long as he had. It had involved moving schools several times over the course of the sixteen years he'd been alive, which meant he'd never really had any long-lasting nor real friendships, but he had stayed with his family and that was what counted.

But he still knew something wasn't right. Keeping such a major secret under wraps the whole time was exhausting. Sure, his parents knew, but keeping this a secret from his ever-curious younger sister was also beginning to become a problem.

He wriggled his toes in overly warm socks under the duvet and stretched out like a cat. The white paintwork arched up above his head to form the ceiling; the glow-in-the-dark stars still stuck there from when he'd got bored aged eight. Without turning over, he heard the door brush open, catching against the carpet.

"Morning, sweetheart." His mother's voice was soft, and warm with affection as she padded across the floor in slippers, reaching her hand down to brush his ruffled blond hair away from his face. "Your sister's threatening to finish off the pancakes unless you come downstairs soon."

That caught his attention, and he rolled over to face her. "Wait, what time is it?"

"Time that you got up. It may be a Saturday but you can't stay in here all day." She stood up from her perch on the end of his bed, and headed back out of the doorway, satisfied that the temptation of pancakes would soon bring him downstairs.

For a few moments longer, he stayed within the cocoon of warmth his duvet created around him, before giving into the hunger and slipping a hoodie over his PJs, taking the stairs two at a time. The kitchen was warm and smelt slightly of burnt cinnamon, with the sounds of the radio narrating from the window-sill, above the sink.

"You were ages," Sophie whined, ducking as he went to swipe at her bed-hair, tilting forwards from her position, cross-legged on the chair. "I was gonna eat yours for you, but someone forced me not to." She shot a none too judging look towards their mother, who chuckled softly and returned to stacking the dish-washer.

"Thanks," James called across, snatching the pancakes out of his sister's grasp. "What? Just because you got here first."

"Whatever. Anyway, are you heading into town later, or not? Because I'm meeting up with Chloe and Louise but the bus-route I'm gonna have to take involves..."

He loved his sister, truly he did, but damn did she go on sometimes. Successfully tuning out of her continuing narration of her plans for the day, James settled into his chair and savoured the taste of the pancakes, only jolting back to attention when the sound of his own name echoed in his ears.

He glanced up from licking the sugar from his fingers. "Huh?" His father clutched a crumpled white envelope in his hands, motioning towards the door to the lounge.

"We need to talk." That, in itself, was a warning sign, and James' mind instantly flitted back to his grades from his science exams that week. He couldn't think of anything else to be concerned about, but given that he hadn't received his results back yet, it seemed to be the only likely option – other than the energy weaving beneath his skin, which he refused to even consider.