The School for the Gifted

Prologue

GIFTED. THAT'S WHAT my parents called me, when the incident occurred. They're afraid of me; I know they are. They don't want to hurt me, but they don't already know that I'm hurt. I also know that I'm not the only kid with parents who hate their child. The other kids are also gifted. The parents are afraid. They're scared of what will happen. They're scared of what their children could do to them if they angered us.

     I learned about my powers when I was seven years old, but I never told anyone. I knew what would happen to them; I'd seen it happen on the television every day growing up. The government would take the people away with powers. They would disappear. I didn't know where they went to, or what happened to them. Not until I was 12 and understood things better.

     I was 12 years old when I ran away, actually. I did something terrible. It was out of anger, too. My father was home from work - a rare occasion, since he was a travel agent - and the family ate dinner together. My older brother was talking about how many accomplishments he made at school today, while my baby brother was crying. My mother was trying to feed my baby brother, but it wasn't working. My father was complaining about how he'd wish we could move away.

      My older brother made me angry. He was bragging about whatever good deed he did for the day, and he pointed out to our father that I stay inside and do nothing but read stories and keep to myself. My dad doesn't like it when I'm alone; he wants me to be out with friends.

     My dad tried to speak calmly to me, but when I argued that I like to stay inside, his voice raised. Then it happened. The incident.

     The lights began to flicker, and the ground shook. The knives on the table rose, aimed for my father. My powers were growing stronger, and I couldn't control them. I yelled stop, but the knives stabbed my father. He ended up in the hospital for a month.

     During that month, my mother tried talking to me. She wanted to know how I did that. I said I'd explain when my father came home. When he did, I told them both the truth. My brothers were there. My little brother wasn't old enough to understand, but my older brother was.

     "Mutant," he called me.

     Then I ran away.