Chapter Two

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March 9th, 2087

It was 4:26 am.

Hazel was still awake.

She was laying on her stomach, enveloped head to toe by a thick, warm blanket, shielding her from the chilly air. Her mom refused to raise the temperature.

The cover also shielded the dim light from her cell phone.

Yes, she still had a cell phone.

A bump resounded through the darkness of the room, making Hazel jump. She put the phone underneath the pillow she was resting her chin on facedown. She waited a few seconds. Nothing. Not even a sound.

Must have been Sammy, she thought, rolling her eyes. Her younger brother, Sammy, slept in the room next to hers. He was always rolling around in bed. Making a lot of noise.

Cautiously, just in case, she picked her phone back up, letting the light flood the cramped corners of the darkened underside of the comforter lying on top of her.

She finished the text she had previously begun writing, and hit the SEND button, immediately waiting anxiously for Alicia to respond back. Within a few seconds, the phone relayed a near-silent buzz, signaling that she had received an answer.

Alicia <3: have you told him yet

You: Of course not! It would freak him out.

Alicia <3: it didn't freak me out when you told me

You: Yeah, but you're not Brandon! And you're not my boyfriend!

Alicia <3: well you have to tell him sooner or later

You: I choose later.

Alicia <3: why dont you just tell him

You: You know how he is. 100% Elementist. He talks about that one boy Eric Ardor as if he's a piece of crap.

Alicia <3: eric? that firefly that walks around school and doesnt talk to anybody?

You: The proper term is Pyromagus. Not Firefly.

Alicia <3: whatever the point is eric doesnt like anyone. he treats OTHER people like crap

You: Well, still.

All of a sudden, Hazel's doorknob started turning. She dropped her phone in desperation and hid it underneath her pillow.

The door slowly opened, and her mother stood in the open doorway, the light from the hallway bending around her and flowing into Hazel's once dark room.

"Hazel? Honey, are you awake?" her mom whispered.

Hazel didn't respond. She knew if she did, it would make her mom suspicious as to WHY she was awake.

Hazel breathed silently to herself underneath her bedspread, waiting patiently for the light to fade, and wait for the sound of a doorway closing.

No such sound came. In fact, Hazel could hear footsteps drawing closer to her, slightly muffled by the sound-absorbing carpet.

"Hazel, if you're awake, there's something I have to tell you."

From underneath the covers, Hazel was confused. What was so important for her mom to tell her at 5:00 in the morning?

"Hazel, honey, I'm leaving."

That made Hazel sit up straight. "What?" she asked, completely abandoning the "pretend-to-be-asleep" plan.

Her mother stared at her golden-haired daughter, tears starting to form into her eyes.

"Hazel, your father and I had a fight. Another one. We've had too many. Too many I can handle. To keep this family from going astray, I'm leaving."

Hazel stared at her mom, too shocked to speak.

Her mother gripped her hand. "I'm sorry, honey. I don't want to leave you and your brother. If I had my way I'd take you guys with me."

Hazel all of a sudden unfroze, tackling her mother with a bear hug, tears streaming down her face.

"Please don't go, mom!" she cried, burying her face in her mother's arms. "I don't want you to leave!"

Her mother tried her hardest not to burst into fierce tears as she embraced her only daughter.

"My little girl. My brave, brave baby girl. I love you with all my heart." She whispered into her daughter's ear. "And that will never change."

The two of them sat together in Hazel's bed, one weeping out loud, one weeping silently on the inside.

Neither of them wanted her to go.

Both of them knew she had to.

 

March 16th, 2087

It was one week later.

It had been extremely difficult for Hazel to let go of her mom that night. The hardest thing she had ever done. And she had regretted it ever since.

The following week after that night had been the worst week of her life. Hazel was depressed. She couldn't eat. She couldn't sleep. Her father was no help. She couldn't tell if he was angry, joyful or depressed all week. He just sat on the couch, watching the television, never breaking his view from the fantasy world, refusing to listen to or even acknowledge reality.

Sammy had been nothing but a bucket of tears. He would never stop crying. He wouldn't listen to Hazel, and he would always be in a bad mood. Hazel couldn't blame him. She could relate.

All she could do was blame everyone.

Why did her mother have to leave?

Why did her father have to disagree with everything his wife had said?

Why did Sammy have to be so loud and childish?

Why didn't Alicia understand her?

Why was the world against her?

Why?

Why!?

Why.

The fact that she was an "airhead" didn't really help matters either.

Of course no one but her close friends knew of her abnormal abilities.

If her parents had known, she was pretty sure they would have disowned her.

If Brandon somehow found out, she would be short of a boyfriend.

Angrily, Hazel, who was lying face up in her bed with a tear-soaked face, threw the nearest thing to her at the far wall- which just happened to be her cell phone.

But, unfortunately, it came back to her, stopping its flight in mid-air, and flew back to her bed, landing softly right back next to her.

One of the quirks of her many air abilities. Her mind seemed to subconsciously bring back anything she happened to throw away out of anger. It was the air in the room that did it. It's as if her powers had a mind of its own. They would not let her throw anything. Everything she threw always came back to her. Which is why she generally avoided sports such as dodgeball and baseball. And frisbee. Even if she kicked the soccer ball too high or far the wind would carry it back to her. Really the only athletic activity that she could possibly do was swimming.

Hazel sighed and tucked her long, curly hair behind her head, wiping the tears from her face and looked at the clock on her phone.

11:50 pm.

"I should probably get to bed." She whispered to herself. "Wouldn't want to be tired during that big English test."

So after spending about ten minutes getting ready for bed, avoiding the picture of her mom and dad on their wedding day she kept on her nightstand, she climbed into bed and cut out the light with a slight wave of her hand. As usual, the air around her responded with vigor, flicking the light switch off for her. Sometimes these abilities came in handy. Mostly they were just a burden.

"At least tomorrow will be better." The 17-year old sighed, and then rolled off to sleep.

Little did she know how wrong she was.

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