Puddles

"Puddles. That's what I was thinking about. Puddles. And ice-cream. Mostly penguins, but...Puddles." The last thing on fifteen year old Melanie Rams mind is mutation. Even though she can delve freely into people's memories and control them and objects around her, it is still the last thing on her mind. When a man arrives, claiming that a Mr Charles Xavier wants to enrol her in his school, Melanie has no idea what's going on-and neither do her family. But when they find out, what will happen?

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2. Chapter One.

        Puddles. That's what I was thinking about. Puddles. And ice-cream. Mostly penguins, and their waddly feet but...Puddles. I trudged through the rain, wistful because I had forgotten an umbrella and a coat with a hood. The puddles threw up large droplets of water, the ice cold trickles of rain seeping into my thin jumper. I could've just made my own, dry path through it, but I wasn't a fan of the public wanting to know how I worked. Actually, scratch that, I wasn't really a fan of the public anyhow, regardless what I could and couldn't do. It had only really started with paper aeroplanes; making them fly on their own, crash into my older brothers eyeballs, etc. I hadn't really thought much of it. I thought it was a phase. Come to think of it, I thought it was normal. But then it went away, and I didn't think anything of it again-and then Up Above decided that it was time for me to become just another spotty, growing, greasy teen, and they arose once again.

        I remember it like it was yesterday-or, most importantly, when I was eleven, four years ago. I was in my room, God knows what for, listening to my thirteen year old brothers-they're twins-having a farting/burping contest. In my room. And, admittedly, I joined in. Sure, it made my room smell for like a week after, but it was funny. Every so often, our fifteen and seventeen year old brothers would pop their head in to belch kinda loudly and join in with a laugh or two. It was getting to the point where we knew that Mum and Dad would probably come in and tell us how unlady like it was for me to be doing such a thing and how gross we were being, so, naturally, we stopped and ended up in fits of giggles on the floor. Miku and Max decided had decided that they'd had enough of farting in my room and left-closing my bedroom door as they did. I was annoyed, and couldn't be bothered to get up to open it, and I was thinking to myself, "Why won't you open? It'd be so cool if I had-if I had the power to control you, oh you stupid door. OPEN!" It was childish; I thought I had the power to control what I wanted, and I did. The door opened. I was, to say the least, gobsmacked. Again, I didn't think anything of it, until a few days later, when I looked into my Mums head. I didn't think; I asked what her favourite memory of me was, and I saw it. Literally. I saw it as if I was her; her most favourite memory of me was not just one, but several. Holding me as a baby; watching Dad pushing my brothers and I around on the park swings as toddlers; helping me blow out the candles on my birthday cake when I had lost my two top front teeth; taking a picture of my four older brothers and I on her old camera; and that was just naming a few. "Oh, I can't choose just one, darling," Mum had said, "there are just too many to pick one. Here, have a chocolate. Don't tell Dad, mind you." I was confused, at first. Then I tried it with Dad. There were loads. It was pretty amazing.

        Sighing, I jumped when a car pulled up beside me and honked. The window rolled down, letting out a nice waft of warm air and something that smelt minty. "Hey, Nee! Want a lift?" My nineteen year old brother Rilk called. Leaning on the door, I nodded-dripping wet globs of rain onto his black leather passenger seat. Grinning, I apologised and stepped back to open the door. Shoving my wet bag by my knees, I clicked my seatbelt into place.

        "So, you got out of-work? Or revision early?"

        "Work. I got out of work early, decided to take Buster out, and then I saw my wonderful little sis in the rain without an umbrella, and I thought; I'll be nice. Oh, and uh-be careful of Buster back there. He's asleep, and you know how excitable he can be if woken up deliberately." Buster was the family St Bernard. Rilk indicated off of the pavement and flicked the windscreen wipers back on. The ride home took about twenty minutes-letting us to get through most of De4d Farl3y's @Gritt album. Luckily Buster did not wake up-he was snoring lightly, the great furry lump.

        "So, uh-you still with Tee, or-" I closed my eyes in frustration as I transitioned into Rilk's memory.

 "Rilk.. Look, I'm sorry, alright? Why don't you just-tell everyone, huh? They'll understand!"

 "Tee, they won't. I-look, I could hardly admit it to MYSELF, let alone somebody else, and you're one of my closest friends, alright? I'm, uh, I'm going to wait a while. To clear my head."

 "Your parents are friendly people, Rilk. They'll understand that you like guys."

        "Um...Nee? You alright? You zonked out for a moment." Killing the engine, Rilk glanced at me worryingly and got out the car. I'd talk to him later about it.

 

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