I know you must get tired of reading my friends and me entries. Trust me, we don’t like doing these any more than you do reading them, but, on the other hand, why are you read them? It’s not like a teacher is forcing you to read these are they? If they were then we could relate. Okay, before we continue this tale, I thought I should let you know that my friends and me are going to do something a little different while writing. Why? Because we’re artists…and we’re bored. So throughout this entry, we’ll give out little footnotes of useless information about our lives. It seems to me that our ADD has become an asset. Let’s begin
So if you had read the last entry, you would know that our parents had found out about our secret powers. (1. Let the record show that this is the fastest time we had ever caved) And…they were okay with it, and that’s what bothered me. I thought this would be one of those rare times mom would turn into a demon and start swearing on grandma’s grave that she would be the one to put her there, but she didn’t. She just leaned back into the couch and continued reading her paper. I knew that screaming and yelling wasn’t my mother’s style, and that something like that had happened before but…I don’t know. Maybe the fact that she was getting used to weird stuff that keeps happening to me is very unsettling. The one I should have been worried about is my sister, Susan whom my mom made me tell what happened.
“What?” She screamed.
“I can read people’s emotions, now. Don’t worry, it’s only temporary.” I explained hoping that would calm her down. Being an empath comes with the perk of knowing how to deal with people. (2. I can also make people not hate me, but I didn’t use it on her) “At least that’s what Spikes says.”
“How does Prince,” She turned toward him and raised an eyebrow. “know that?”
“You know Einstein?” Marion asked not shaken by my sister’s glare. (3. My ability does not work on Marion because apathy blocks empathy, fortunately it goes both ways)
“Smarter than that guy.”
A lot of mixed emotions emanated around the room, most of them same—confusion, wary, worry. Believe me it took a lot not to be overwhelmed.
“Well, how did this,” Matthew, Marion’s brother, waved his hand toward Katrina, Prince, Marion, and me. “happen?” (4. Matthew isn’t the sharpest tack in the box. He’s not dumb, but he certainly isn’t quick. Don’t tell him I said that)
“Well, Prince was thinking,” Kat began tying her long, blonde hair into a ponytail as she was preparing to paint that afternoon. (5. She literally knows what Prince is thinking) “our grandparents used solar radiation; you know that stuff that affects BioticAbiotics’ molecules, to enhance a specific part of our cerebral cortex.”
“Complicated. We know but that’s the small thing. The big thing is what are you going to do about it?”
“Well, what can we do?” Caroline, Katrina’s sister said. (6. Caroline is dating Matthew. Guess who has the brains?) “We’ll just have to wait for it to wear off like last time.”
And our families broke. While they all headed back to their rooms and apartments, my friends and headed downstairs to the front office and then down to the basement. The doorman gave a funny look, but otherwise didn’t bother us. Most of the humans didn’t. It was only until now that I knew why. Our family’s history and what we are.
(7. I’m not enjoying this.) Well, I was painting the perfect depiction of how I felt that afternoon: A moody Kat and her three closest friends being crushed under the word “expectation”. (8. Kat can also be my initials. Katrina Angela Tropical. Really creative, right? More than what my grandfather named mom)
“What do you guys think?” I asked not turning around.
Prince came over to act like he’s actually inspecting my painting. I knew he’s not “That’s an accurate depiction of trials and turmoil.”
“Don’t try to hard, Spikes.”
He shrugged and went back to what he was doing. He was hard at work building a lair for us underneath the apartment (We needed the privacy). Dr. Norman (9. Dr. Norman is the family doctor) gave us the equipment to build it. He didn’t ask us why we were doing it like any responsible doctor would, but then again we didn’t question him.
Prince, Fleana, and Marion had finally finished what they were doing. They were covered in grease and oil while my face was smeared with painting oil. Yes, I didn’t help them with the project but I did have my part in the process.
“Alright, everything is in order,” Prince said clapping his hands. “Now all we need is some power.”
I stuck out my finger, not really looking at where I was aiming, and shot lightning at the computer screen, starting it. (10. I’m packing major voltage. A thousand volts to each finger tip actually)
“Oh, yeah! Now we’re talking!” Fleana pumped her fist.
“What was that?” I heard Mom yell at the top of the stairs. The doorman must’ve told her we were down there.
“Nothing mom, just a project.” I told her.
“Okay, dear. Just come and eat dinner after you’re done with your project.”
(11. Mom doesn’t take my capabilities very seriously) (12. My friends and I haven’t given anybody much reason to take our capabilities seriously)
They say artists never amount to much. That we’re just wasting our time with “projects” and mean nothing to this world, but what is the meaning of life anyway? People live, they have experiences, they die. Simple as that. Art is what makes it fun, enjoyable, gives us movies, cartoons, and video games to occupy our time with. But alas, coming from someone like me, it is often ignored no matter how right I am. It seems like the only ones who ever did seem to take us seriously are the people we don’t like such as Mrs. Rosethorne and…
“Hello, darlings.” Our evil grandparents…sitting right there on the computer screen. They were all sitting in fancy black chairs. On the table in front of them sat tea and rice cakes like they were just having a nice conversation. Grandpa smirked at me, his mouth resembling mine.
“What do you want now grandpa?” I said pretending to paint.
“Just to say hello.”
“How in the world did you get on our computer monitor that we just set it up?” Prince asked in a more pondering tone than an angry one.
“That’s not important.” Clarissa, Fleana’s grandmother, sat back in her chair and aimed her eyes at Fleana. “Listen—“
“We’re not doing anything you say!” Fleana shouted. “We’re just going to end up screwed. Or experimented on.”
“Smart girl.” Thomas, Marion’s grandfather, acknowledged. “Maybe she is your granddaughter.”
Clarissa did not look amused. “You got it all wrong, dear. I was just going to tell you that we’ll be checking on you from time to time just to make sure everything is all right.”
“Geez, thanks for the concern,” I said sarcastically. “Don’t let monitor hit you where the Lord split ya.”
“Alright, love. I love you too.” Grandpa said.
I bet you were thinking that our grandparents popping up on computer screen freaked us out. Maybe just a little bit. It didn’t really. (13. Their checking up on us is the closest thing to loving us for as long as we’ve known them) Basically, we just went about lives like usual. Word got out about our abilities we couldn’t cheat anymore. Just as well, it started to leave bad tastes in our mouths. We were hoping the lair we built would help out in our lives but it turns out we didn’t need it. Mrs. Rosethorne handed us our next papers with what I thought was a smirk. We got B’s and in green text was “The journals have helping I see. Good that means I’m going to have to make things a lot harder from now on. P.S. you have three days of detention for cheating.” It was bittersweet and I’m pretty sure she’s smiling because she had busted us for cheating, but at least we knew that we’re were getting used to life here. We made life easier for ourselves. (14. For the first time in a long time, we felt like we were succeeding rather failing. Baby steps) Plus since we fessed up to our teachers about what happened, they understood and helped us understand our assignments better, they gave us a chance to redo our papers, and for the most part didn’t punish us as hard as we thought they would. We still had a lot more work to do to catch up with the other…more attentive students, but it was good to know that we were on the right track.
My friends there had told most of the story. Don’t worry as a writer I’ll think of something. Yeah, well, things are starting to look up. Instead of treating us like freaks like our old school would’ve done, people treated our condition like it was no big deal. We didn’t get a chance to see what their reaction would have been when we had the ability to combine our traits so I didn’t know whether to attributed it to open mindedness or the simple acceptance of our lives being abnormal due to being born in a test tube. Some were even sympathetic; others were curious. But personally, I think it’s cool we have these powers and I knew that we’ll enjoy it while it lasts. (15. This school is still a mystery) But, more importantly, I’m starting to warm up to the idea of writing in this journal. It’s pretty cool chronicling the everyday happenings in our lives. Anyway, until next time. (16. Our story isn’t over)