Past Tense, Future Perfect
Dec 13, 2013 10:16:17 GMT -5
Post by James Neilson on Dec 13, 2013 10:16:17 GMT -5
Sunday, May 3rd, 2009: age thirteen
The white around his mother's pursed lips could be seen as easily as the strained muscles of her forearms pressed against her thighs as she sat on the couch. The rigidness of her spine seemed to be the only thing keeping her upright, severity matched only by the cool look in her blue eyes as she stared down the recruiter.
James folded his legs underneath himself, trying to look as invisible as possible. That would have been a far cooler power, he had decided. (Power? Ability? He hadn't liked any of the words he had heard for it. A power seemed like something remarkable, and ability made it sound as if he had wanted it or practiced it. This wasn't like the ability to win a spelling bee or to do well in track. Even with the lackluster understanding he had of hypnosis, he was certain that this wasn't the sort of thing over thirteen year olds gloated about. Hell, kids didn't gloat about spelling bees, and if this was worse...)
Instead of finding him invisible, where he could have slipped out of the conversation, they had found him offering unconscious suggestions to people. Maybe that was what had his mother on edge -- the knowledge that he could have (and had) offered small, unconscious prods. Not that James could have pinpointed any of them. Hypnosis was when magicians swung around watches on chains and told planted audience members that you are getting sleepy, very sleepy. He didn't even own a watch like that, so what could he have done?
"Am I in trouble?" he blurted out. What great timing if he was. Summer was right around the corner with high school soon to follow. He had even managed to find a decent base of friends, he was doing well in classes, he hadn't gotten into trouble or found himself at any of the parties his classmates were starting to attend with some of the high schoolers...
The recruiter's soft laugh didn't comfort him at all, and dark eyes fell to examine her hands instead of meeting her gaze. She had on a light nail polish, just too pink to be her normal nail color. Her index finger had a small bit of it chipped, and James found himself immediately heaping criticisms onto her: If he was in trouble, then maybe she needed to step back and realize she wasn't being professional, she had messed up, she deserved to be punished too -- but her answer came a moment later, trying to explain that Hammel Institute wasn't like a detention center, but a school that just had a few extra types of classes added. It was across the country, and James looked up again to sneak a glance at his mother, trying to see if that bothered her.
It didn't seem to get any more of a reaction than finding out her son was a meta.
He ducked his head down, picking at his own nails instead as he gave a small nod. The woman continued on, explaining some more about the school: Said it was in Vermont, made some joke about the weather not being as warm as it was out here, they still taught math and English and every other subject he was finishing up, he could be out there for the summer to get used to the place and make some friends before classes began. And you can even start training as soon as you get there, wouldn't that be neat?
None of it was an option, but he did appreciate the way that the woman made it sound like he got a choice in the matter. And... well, somewhere between the splitting headache he had had for the past week (apparently a side effect of using his ability, he had learned) and the fact that his mother's expression hadn't eased once since the word meta-human had been dropped, maybe he had started to like the idea of going somewhere else. Determinedly avoiding his mother's gaze, James looked at the recruited, chin tilted up with determination, and nodded. Going over the summer sounded nice, and maybe the chance to figure out what on earth his ability was even about sounded decent as well.
(And Vermont did have nicer weather.)
The white around his mother's pursed lips could be seen as easily as the strained muscles of her forearms pressed against her thighs as she sat on the couch. The rigidness of her spine seemed to be the only thing keeping her upright, severity matched only by the cool look in her blue eyes as she stared down the recruiter.
James folded his legs underneath himself, trying to look as invisible as possible. That would have been a far cooler power, he had decided. (Power? Ability? He hadn't liked any of the words he had heard for it. A power seemed like something remarkable, and ability made it sound as if he had wanted it or practiced it. This wasn't like the ability to win a spelling bee or to do well in track. Even with the lackluster understanding he had of hypnosis, he was certain that this wasn't the sort of thing over thirteen year olds gloated about. Hell, kids didn't gloat about spelling bees, and if this was worse...)
Instead of finding him invisible, where he could have slipped out of the conversation, they had found him offering unconscious suggestions to people. Maybe that was what had his mother on edge -- the knowledge that he could have (and had) offered small, unconscious prods. Not that James could have pinpointed any of them. Hypnosis was when magicians swung around watches on chains and told planted audience members that you are getting sleepy, very sleepy. He didn't even own a watch like that, so what could he have done?
"Am I in trouble?" he blurted out. What great timing if he was. Summer was right around the corner with high school soon to follow. He had even managed to find a decent base of friends, he was doing well in classes, he hadn't gotten into trouble or found himself at any of the parties his classmates were starting to attend with some of the high schoolers...
The recruiter's soft laugh didn't comfort him at all, and dark eyes fell to examine her hands instead of meeting her gaze. She had on a light nail polish, just too pink to be her normal nail color. Her index finger had a small bit of it chipped, and James found himself immediately heaping criticisms onto her: If he was in trouble, then maybe she needed to step back and realize she wasn't being professional, she had messed up, she deserved to be punished too -- but her answer came a moment later, trying to explain that Hammel Institute wasn't like a detention center, but a school that just had a few extra types of classes added. It was across the country, and James looked up again to sneak a glance at his mother, trying to see if that bothered her.
It didn't seem to get any more of a reaction than finding out her son was a meta.
He ducked his head down, picking at his own nails instead as he gave a small nod. The woman continued on, explaining some more about the school: Said it was in Vermont, made some joke about the weather not being as warm as it was out here, they still taught math and English and every other subject he was finishing up, he could be out there for the summer to get used to the place and make some friends before classes began. And you can even start training as soon as you get there, wouldn't that be neat?
None of it was an option, but he did appreciate the way that the woman made it sound like he got a choice in the matter. And... well, somewhere between the splitting headache he had had for the past week (apparently a side effect of using his ability, he had learned) and the fact that his mother's expression hadn't eased once since the word meta-human had been dropped, maybe he had started to like the idea of going somewhere else. Determinedly avoiding his mother's gaze, James looked at the recruited, chin tilted up with determination, and nodded. Going over the summer sounded nice, and maybe the chance to figure out what on earth his ability was even about sounded decent as well.
(And Vermont did have nicer weather.)
