Starr Student

Meet the Lemon Boy.

My name is Jerome Starr. I am 23 years old and I currently work as a grunt for a real estate company. Most of the time, my job is to haul things people don't want to a dumpster and schlep the things they do want into their new house. I recently got a bachelor's degree in mathematics, and I live in Providence, California, which is just south of Oregon and just west of Nevada. I don't have much connection with my family (Other than my wonderful parents), or any real bonds with my coworkers, but I do have a childhood friend I still keep in touch with. His name is Lemon Boy, and I'm the only one who can see him.

At this point in a conversation, most people would assume I'm insane or joking, both of which are valid assumptions. The kicker is what he looks like: a shirtless, beefy man with a bright yellow-lemon shaped head wearing blue sweatpants with leaves on them, tennis shoes, and a pair of chains in an X across his chest. He also has a little blond mustache and goatee, but they're so faint and thin that they're nearly invisible. To be honest, I've never understood why he looks like this, and neither does he. The only reason I haven't dismissed him as a hallucination is because he can pick up and move things, which other people freak out about-he's even punched someone before, which I can only assume was a bizarre experience for the punched.

Lemon Boy has been with me for as long as I can remember. I think he's part of me somehow: he's the same height and build as me, and whenever I get hurt, so does he, and vice versa. Another thing I figured out was that I can talk to him telepathically, which helped me look somewhat sane. He also isn't always there; sometimes if I drop something, only his hand appears to catch it, but if I need him in full, just thinking about him hard enough will have him at my side.

The oddest thing about Lemon Boy is what he calls his "Mood Transformations". More or less, whenever I feel a certain way, Lemon Boy feels the same, be it angry, sad, or excited. And whenever an emotion is particularly strong, Lemon Boy... changes.

Whenever I'm calm or sad, he grows cold, with ice forming little spikes on his body. For some reason he stays very close to me, within a few feet, whereas I've normally seen him almost ten yards away. Lemon Boy's personality changes as well; he's much more quiet, intelligent, and calculating, so much so that he goes by a different name: Crunchy Ice.

If I'm angry, he calls himself Lemon Demon, and flames jump from his shoulders, beard, and eyebrows. His movements grow erratic, but much faster, and he often often moves nearly triple the normal distance from me. Lemon Demon also has zero chill.

And finally, when I'm frightened or excited, Lemon Boy crackles with lightning and, for some reason, looks a bit beefier than the others. This one is called Jet Lemon, and he's a lot slower than the others, both mentally and physically.

Needless to say, my life was pretty strange, but I've managed to look fairly normal up until one day, I needed some change. I was living in an apartment downtown when economic things I don't understand happened and the rent was jacked up. I thought: Fine. I need some pizzazz in my life anyway, and don't have that much stuff, so I can load my three boxes of clothes and my couch/bed into the company van and move, no sweat.

The issue was finding a new home. I work downtown most of the time, and I don't want to spend an hour in commute, so I was leaning away from the suburbs, but the rent for anything close enough was completely out of the question, and going back to my parents house was also a poor choice, as they had moved back to my dad's hometown in the Czech Republic a few years back. I was fairly desperate, so I searched for almost a week before I had the crazy idea to look in the newspaper ads.

The next morning I had off, I sat down at the table and scanned the Housing section: nothing. At that point I was resigned to waking up early for the commute (UGGH), so I tried to cheer myself up by looking through the Personals ads. After giggling myself senseless over the extremely specific things some men wanted, I flipped the page, and something caught my eye; an odd little blurb about some strange school.

The ad read: "Do you believe in spirit guides? Do you see or hear things out of this world? Have you ever used telepathy? Do you feel the potential to develop supernatural talents? Any of these could mean that you belong at the Spirit Telepathy And Necessary Defense Academy (or STAND Academy)! Here, bizarre beings from within are explored and developed, as well as a healthy understanding of Martial Arts and Self Defense. Be at the below address on August 3rd through 5th from 8 AM to 6 PM to enroll, or contact Master Nathan at the below number to make an appointment."

Now, I am not that stupid. I've seen things like this before, and usually the people writing these ads have been sniffing the grass a little too much, if you catch what I'm throwing. I called out in my mind, and Lemon Boy appeared behind me.

"What's up, Starr?" he said, leaning over my shoulder.

I handed him the page. "Some dude named Master Flynn holds an academy for telepaths. What do you wanna bet he's just taking people's money to teach them to 'levitate' by hopping around, Chris-Cross-Applesauce?"

Lemon Boy snickered. "No kidding. Look at this ad! 'Spirit guide'? 'Out of this world'? All we need is breathing magic and Zodiac signs and we've got quack bingo. But that is kind of weirdly accurate when it comes to me, 'bizarre being from within' and all. Holy crap, look at the tuition!"

I grabbed the paper back from him and reread the ad. Holy crap was right! Tuition, housing, and a meal plan all together was less than my current rent! That was ridiculously low, especially for a 'Specialized Academy' hipster trap. I looked at the address, and it seemed to be fairly close to my work. I grabbed my laptop to check, and apparently, the academy was on a huge hill about ten miles from my work. I grinned, and Lemon Boy gave me a questioning look.

I gave him a sly look. "Wouldn't it be hilarious if a real telepath showed up at a school for phony psychics?"

Lemon Boy shared my grin. "And we have the martial arts part covered as well, even if I might have to sneak a few punches in myself."

That was true; I got in so many fights in middle school that my parents enrolled me in judo classes so I would stop nearly breaking my fist punching people, and I still remember some of the basic techniques. Also, for some reason, Lemon Boy's Mood Transformations knew their own fighting styles: Lemon Demon had some crazy version of Karate, it looked like Jet Lemon could box, and Crunchy Ice apparently knew Tai Chi.

I looked back at the ad. Today was July the 27th, so I could definitely make it to the enrollment. The good thing about my job, apart from being paid, was that our boss let us schedule our own appointments for schlepping, as long as we still did it within the day, so I could attend whatever garbage classes were required for me to keep staying there.

Eventually, I decided that the STAND Academy was probably my best bet for housing. I didn't have anything on the 3rd, so I marked it on my calendar and started packing.