Haywire

Chapter 1: Welcome to My World

      I guess you could say I was popular, at my old school, at my old foster care. Now, I'm a nobody who nobody wants. Not even the people who adopted me. They only did it to seem like good people. Which, it certainly headlined, because it's such a small town and they have such a large amount of money. Stuff gets around quickly.
      So. I live Harry Potter style, in a walk-in closet in the basement. Why didn't I get the whole basement you say? Because of a wine cellar ten times the size of my closet and a slightly larger game room.
      When Avery has friends over, they throw their stuff into my closet and take over the basement, so I'm forced to go up stairs without any books or a crossword puzzle or something. Stupid Avery. I guess I should tell you why I would prefer books and a crossword puzzle over trashing the upstairs or something like that.
      My name is currently Jaxon. It was Zachary a couple years ago. Zachary Jaxon sounds pretty nice, but that's never how my life worked out. Anyways, I was always taught to be polite and stuff like that, so I would sit up and always have my elbows off the table. I would offer help when someone needed it most.
      And in my free time I would cook, read, finish homework. Not that I have any siblings to cook for. Normally it's for my culinary class and I'm the only one who actually appreciates our maid. So once a day I cook Sheila a meal to thank her for the work she's done. She doesn't understand that I'm doing it out of total gratitude. She thinks I'm being forced by Avery and Jordan.
      Most of the time Avery and Jordan aren't even home to tell me to do something, because they're the typical on the road, gone for a week at a time kind of workers.
     So I live alone with Sheila visiting once everyday while I'm at school five days a week at a school where I don't exist. So I guess I'm living a great life. And then comes the weekend when my step-parents are finally home for twenty four hours max without any acknowledgement towards me.
     It'd be stupid to say that I'm trying to make the most of the boring, useless life of mine. So, as I sit here finishing up The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn for the millionth time, Sheila walks in the door to prep for the coming home of my parents.
     "Jaxon?" She asks from outside the cracked door. At least she has enough decency to shield herself. I set down the book and walk towards the door. As she hears my footsteps she opens the door all the way.
     "Hello, Sheila," I say to her as she sets her bags down. She's not too short, but I still stand much taller than her at a height of 6'2". I pick up her bags and set them on the other side of my closet and follow her upstairs.
    "We need to prepare for your parents, Jaxon, and we need to do it fast. I was planning on making a lemon meringue pie for after a pot roast meal. While I work on that you should tidy up the house," she says as though she's my actual parent. Which she pretty much is.
She starts to clank around in the kitchen once I walk into the main hall. Yes, my house has a main hall. But even then the house isn't even that tall. I walk through the rooms checking for things that need to be fixed and then I go in and dust.
      I have the worst allergies, ever. Even Swiffer can't stop the sneezes and coughs. So I have to wear some goggles and a mask to stop the fits.  
     After I finish dusting, I vacuum. We only have three carpets, but the rest is hard wood, so that means I have to mop. By now I bet Sheila is already done with setting up the pot roast in the Crock Pot. 
     And after I mop and vacuum and dust, I clean screens with Windex. It sucks, or maybe that's just my paper towel, but it never seems to clean as well as it says it does. But, since my parents like to use quality cleaners, they go for quality cleaners.
     And then finally, I go through the rooms and bathrooms. Normally I just have to scrub the toilet and the sink and I'm good. My parents are always light travelers and don't have much stuff anyways at home so I don't have to clean their room.
     So I go tell Sheila that I'm done and I head downstairs to do some homework. It's not really homework, but it's something even better. I close my door and move my backpack as far away from my bed as possible, and then sit down.
     I focus on the backpack, picturing it unzipping in my mind and will the zipper to move from side to side. I imagine that I am pulling out a binder and a notebook, and see them floating in the air four feet in front of me. I will them to come closer to me until I have them in my hands.
     New record, that was my fastest time yet, in about twenty seconds tops. I've known I could do this for awhile, ever since my last foster care, which was about four years ago. I was scared out of my socks the first time I moved something with my mind. I didn't do anything on purpose for another year after that.
     But on my fifteenth birthday, I wanted to try it again, and I did, and I felt pure joy. I could do something others couldn't. I wasn't labeled as a weird kid like other weird kids without a purpose. I knew full well what I was, when nobody else had a clue. I had power.
     I've worked hard on this for three years, and I'm just now getting twenty seconds. Unfortunately I haven't found anything else I can do. I mean, I can temporarily fly because I can hold myself off the ground with my mind, but that doesn't exactly count. Maybe if I work really hard on moving stuff with my mind something else will show up. Maybe.
      I go upstairs and tell Sheila that I'm getting ready for bed; I brush my teeth, all that jazz, and lay in bed. I think about the day ahead of me tomorrow, and how I can become a pro at telekinesis. After a good hour of thinking, I finally drift off to sleep, hoping all goes well tomorrow.

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