"Catch me if you can!" Rory yells, speeding off in a blur down the road. His legs pump so fast that they are just a blur of blue, the color of his jeans, as he runs in a circle around me.
"You know I can't catch you," I say, rolling my eyes. "For goodness sake, your flair is speed."
Everyone gets their flair when they turn 16, Rory's being his ability to run at a super-human speed. My mother's is shape-shifting, my father's is healing the sick or wounded, and my brother's is the ability to measure the truth of people's words. My flair hasn't come yet since I am only 15, but I am eagerly awaiting my birthday, which is tomorrow, to see what my flair will be.
"Come on, just try!" Rory begs, skidding to a stop in front of me. He likes to show off his speed, knowing that no one can out run him. And no one tries either. Rory is 2 years older than me, making him 17 years old. He started off as being friends with my brother but eventually we became better friends than he and Brent. Brent didn't seem to mind though, seeing as he now has his own group of popular friends that doesn't include Rory.
The high school is basically categorized by flairs. There's the physical flairs like Rory's and Mom's, and then there's the mental flairs like Brent's and Dad's. Any flair that doesn't directly affect your body is classified as a mental flair. For instance, my friend Serena's flair is controlling the elements with her mind and she's classified in the mental flair section.
I haven't quite made up my mind about what sector I want to be in, I just want a useful flair. Our whole education is based on how to properly use and control our abilities, so there's no point in even going to school until you've learned what your flair is.
"Jada, I'll race you to your house!" Rory suggests, smiling crookedly and tousling his dirty blonde hair. I sigh but agree anyway, knowing it'll make him happy.
"Ready," Rory says, bending down into a crouch.
"Set," I continue, copying his movements.
"GO!" Rory screams and he explodes down the road, quickly leaving me to cough and sputter as the dust from the dirt road enters my lungs. I sprint down the road, my long, black hair flying behind me as my legs take bounding strides down the road that leads to my house.
All of the sudden I see a figure speeding towards me. Before I even have time to wonder what it is, Rory is jogging beside me, a corn muffin hanging from his half-open mouth. Looks like he already made it to my house and back.
"Hop on," Rory says through a mouth full of muffin. I gratefully climb onto his back, panting from the exertion of sprinting down the road for that short period of time.
Rory lurches forward and I cling to him as the wind stings my eyes and whips my hair across my face. I look to the side and see a blur of green that I assume to be trees. Within five seconds we are standing in front of my house and I am climbing off Rory's back, my legs wobbly from moving so fast.
"There you are, Jada," my mother, Karen, says when Rory and I walk through the door and into the kitchen. I grab one of the corn muffins off of the counter and sit on a stool behind the breakfast bar.
"So, are you excited to find out your flair?" my mother asks. Her hair is blonde today and she has her usual deep blue eyes that are an exact copy of my own. Her appearance changes daily, but her eyes always stay the same.
"Yes," I answer, after I swallow the lump of cornbread that was stuck in my throat. Truth be told, I am actually quite scared to find out what my flair will be. Flairs stick with you for your entire life, so tomorrow is essentially the most important day of my existence. No pressure, huh?
"You'll be fine, honey," Mom reassures me, as if reading my thoughts. I do have an uncle who can actually do that and it gets quite annoying sometimes. I nod and smile at her before grabbing Rory by the arm and leading him up to my room where we try and predict what my flair will be until it's time for him to run home.
I can't stop thinking about tomorrow as I try and fail to find sleep. I toss and turn in my bed, punching the pillow and rearranging the blankets in an effort to get more comfortable. I end up just lying on my back and staring at the ceiling, not even aware when my thoughts become dreams as I drift off to sleep.
I awake to a blinding light streaming through the gap in my thick, blue curtains. My eyes quickly adjust to the brightness and my small room comes into focus. Excitement and nervousness flood through me when I remember what day it is. It's my sixteenth birthday.
I rip back the blankets and hop to my feet, a wave of sudden energy washing over me. I feel a buzz run through my veins from the pit of my stomach all the way to my fingertips. I am admiring the way it makes me feel when my mother walks into the room. Something shifts, maybe in the air, when she enters, but I choose to ignore it. That is until I see the look of pure shock on her face.
"Jada!" she exclaims, rushing over and grabbing my arms. I begin to panic. Is my flair the ability to turn my skin a different color? Am I gifted with having hooves instead of feet? Webbed fingers? I check every one of these features, but they are all the same as before, although my fingers seem a bit longer and thinner. Maybe my skin a bit lighter. I am sure my mind is just playing tricks on me.
"Jada, oh my," my mom whispers, a smile creeping onto her face. "This is fantastic!"
"What? What's fantastic?" I frantically question. Quickly, I run over to stand in front of my mirror. My jaw drops to the floor at the sight in front of me. I don't see myself standing there in the mirror, but my mother. I look behind me to check, but Mom is still on the other side of the room gaping at me.
"Mom," I say quietly, not being able to tear my eyes away from my own reflection. "What is it? What's my flair?"
"I don't exactly know," she replies, walking over to stand in front of me and examine me once more.
"It could be you are a shape-shifter, like myself. Or you have the ability to take on the form of those around you," she suggests, still puzzled. Then her eyes darken as a thought comes to her mind.
"Or it could be...no. That's too rare." She shakes her head slightly, quickly dismissing whatever idea she had. A flicker of curiosity sparks inside me but I suppress it for now. I am more curious as to what my flair is.