Broken

Jack: Accident

"They said they would do a private interview with you instead of making you do the normal test." Lucky exposited back at me as he speed-walked ahead down the suburban sidewalk that led to the academy.

"You really didn't have to." I called back, trying to keep pace. I was laughing as I said it, but I was really troubled by his enthusiasm. It was stressful thinking about how he expected me to do so well. I didn't expect to get in, let alone excel. My brother stopped abruptly and swung around to face me. He looked irritated.

"Are you still on about this?" He sighed. "Even if they can't fix your abilities you can still attend the school, you know." He was always annoyed when I denied his insistence that I would definitely end up at the same school as him.

"If I can't get my powers back I won't be coming here." I asserted. I had said it before, but he needed constant reminders of my intentions or he pretended they had never come up before.

"Why?" He asked me, apparently surprised. I didn't know how he had forgotten, because I had already said it a hundred times.

"I don't want to be around other people constantly using their powers. And besides, it doesn't feel right. Like, I'm not really one of them, y'know?" I tried explaining again, hoping it would stick this time.

"No one would care. And I thought you said you didn't miss having powers." Was his rebuttal. I sighed.

"I don't, usually. But who knows how I would feel if everyone around me was using them all the time?" I guess I never really explained this specific part to him. He doesn't seem to have a response. He looks down at his feet, then turns to face the direction of the school.

"It doesn't matter anyway. I'm sure they can help you get back at least some of your ability." He seemed very sure. I didn't respond. I wanted to be as sure as he was, but I had to manage my expectations, because I didn't think I could stand being disappointed in this case. I decided pretty much right away to not expect anything when he first told me about this. A few months ago he explained to me that he could get me a special appointment with the faculty to talk about my problem, and that there was someone who might be able to help me.

It was still August so the school wasn't in session yet, but I found out from my brother that there were people there for other reasons. They staggered the enrolment examinations over the summer so there were a handful of students on the campus when we got there. In fact when we arrived in the school grounds there were about twenty kids scattered around the lawn, mostly by the main doors, but also in small groups sitting on the grass. A few were gathered by the doors watching what appeared to be the beginning of a fight.

Two kids were standing about five feet apart on the grass, yelling at each other about something we couldn't hear at our distance. One of them lifted his hand as if to slap the other, which made no sense at all given their distance from each other. As we walked toward the pair though, a spark appeared above the boy's hand, blooming into a flickering ball of fire. My brother gasped out loud, then groaned. He quickly threw off his backpack and started sprinting toward the two kids. I paused, watching him run, then sighed and bent over to grab his bag off the grass.

I approached the confrontation slowly because I didn't like the idea of getting involved with that kid's fireball. When I got there I found the fight over. The two kids, one punk-looking boy, pale with a green fo-hawk and black outfit covered in buckles and accessories, the other a mid-tone skinned sporty looking boy in a windbreaker and jogging pants, were seated on the front steps of the school. They were seated right next to each other, and both had awkwardly stiff posture. They looked petrified, and neither looked up when I approached. My brother was talking to some other kids who were standing nearby. He didn't notice me, and I didn't want to disturb whatever he was doing so I stood awkwardly in front of the steps.