"You're not as light on your feet as you think."
•••
A young girl by the name of Lyra always knew she was different. It wasn't until she was ten that she found out she was a mutant. Her parents having been killed by mutant hunters left her as an orp...
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As I walked out of school, I plugged my headphones into my cassette player, turning it on and listening to Aerosmith. They were a fairly new band, but pretty good. I then decided that instead of going straight home, I'd head out to the cassette shop.
Once I was done at the shop, I walked out, suddenly bumping into into someone in a silver bomber jacket. Of course.
"You have to be stalking me," I crossed my arms.
"I was just going to say you're stalking me," he mimicked my crossed arms pose.
"I was here first!" I reminded him. He furrowed his eyebrows, tapping his chin.
"Oh yeah," he shrugged, dragging out the 'oh.' I had never really looked at him before now. He truly was good looking, but most of his face was covered under a flop of silver hair. He seems like the kind of guy that would use his handsomeness against others. Or just flaunt it around to where it gets annoying.
"Aerosmith, huh?" He asked, motioning to my cassette player. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. How did he know? It's clasped into the cassette.
"Uh, yeah," I shrugged it off.
"More of a Pink Floyd fan myself," he shrugged.
"Oh really?" I tapped him on the chest; today he happened to be wearing a Pink Floid shirt. He looked down at his shirt with a shrug, nodding.
"Yeah they're pretty good, but not as good as the Stones," I shook my head. He faked a gasp, holding his hand to his chest.
"You are so uneducated in music!"
"C'mon, everyone knows The Rolling Stones are an amazing band!"
"Your favorite song by them?" He asked, skeptically.
"Paint it Black," I smiled. He nodded, having to agree with me. He opened his mouth, about to respond, when he looked over my shoulder and closed his mouth. "What is it?" I asked, confused.
"Follow me," he grabbed my wrist and dragged me behind him. His emotions showed he wasn't overly fearful. They simply suggested he was nervous, but not for himself. He dragged me all the way across the street, next to an old bank that now stood vacant.
"What was that about?" I ripped my arm from his grip. I could feel my electricity spark in my body. My powers were often controlled by my emotions. I had long since learned to deal with them during times of fear or depression, but can still feel it surge beneath my skin.
