I shouldn’t have done that. One of the big rules here is not to use your gifts on your fellow Others.
Others is our words for us. Their term is gifted or special, as if we are toddlers falling behind at school.
You know the forms you’ve no doubt filled out. Name, age, gender, occupation yadda yadda. Well, when filling these out, we usually fall into the “Other” category. After all, they have no box for element manipulation or mind control.
The new new boy glares at me from the corner of his eye. I’ve hurt his ego but someone would have done it eventually.
Everyone comes here thinking they’re special. Its Mrs. Oscar’s fault, giving them the you’re not a freak, you’re special crap. That and their new control over something or someone makes them stroll in here as if we’ll feel their greatness and simultaneously bow down to our new master.
That’s where I come in.
A quick doodle, a focused thought and, bam, brought down a peg…or five.
Still, my short blast of agonizing pain is better than what some could do to him. My pain is all in the mind. There are people here who can do some real damage.
So really I did him a favour.
Not that he’s thanking me.
It’s important he understands where he stands in the hierarchy of the school otherwise he’ll get eaten alive.
We have the half-others or Halfers. They sit right at the bottom, keep to themselves and try not to piss anyone off. Rather wisely. Their gifts are limited; maybe a bit of telekinesis, aura seeing, the occasional future dreamer.
Then come the Lowers. Their gifts are pretty much the same only they’re not limited by genetic faults. With a lot of training they can go from moving the occasional pen to moving large cars. You can always tell who they are. You tend to find your chair disappears at the last moment around them.
Not that I know from personal experience. None of them would dare.
Then there are the Highers. The mind readers, element manipulators, the shifters, you name it, we probably got one knocking around somewhere.
Then there’s me.
I fall into the other Other category. I’m an outsider to the outsiders. Hence the name, Outsider.
We’re feared. Me, Roan the mind controller and Leo the body snatcher. Understandably to be honest. Leo can be sitting calmly, chatting to me and Roan and be in complete control of Beth the Shifter across the canteen, making her dance on the table, change her hair to a startling purple buzz cut and green skin.
We are affectionately labelled as the Terrible Trio.
Just… not to our faces.
Who would risk that when I can cripple them, Leo can force them to dance around like a chicken and Roan can make sure they never tell a soul about what we did to them?
The new kids quickly hear the tales and steer clear of us. It doesn’t take long.
I hear Rose got the last headmaster to give her A’s for the whole year…. Roan robbed a whole bank by making them think the money was his dropped shopping…. Leo made his own dad stab himself…. None of them true, but they work.
No one messes with us.
No one even speaks to us.
In truth, it’s pretty lonely being an Outsider.