100 % Review Forum Short Story: Please review, ne..

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It's a long, ominous despair. That feeling you get when your gut is wrenched tight and the pit of your stomach overwhelmed with numbness. My heart is clogged. There's too much blood trying to flow through as their eyes lay cast over the long squared room upon me, dissecting me, judging me. I hide my eyes from their censorious glares. I can hear their thoughts. Their minds race with scattering thoughts, of which one stands out: weirdo.
Nature urges that I spend my time with her, rather than with the menacing bunch I could turn to ash if I wanted to. She's my only friend. She knows about me, about my secret.
I focus on the empty chair in the back of the room until it recoils at my mind's tickle. The touch is slight enough for it to go unnoticed, but powerful enough for Mrs. Launchberry's mind to be infected. There was a time when the powers eluded me. Simple things, like Mrs. Launchberry's reflective spectacles, could thwart my intentions. It's no longer so. And, if I'm honest, it now bores me.
I fix my eyes on the arrow on which her spectacles are wedged, her eyes green spheres cast over the frames at me, her head flat like a hunting bow. "Hi," I say at her encouraging nod. "I'm Arabella. I'm from Weatherfalls. I'm happy to be here." My smile is as fake and unconvincing as my voice. There's a reason mum home-schooled me. It's the same reason dad left. I'm not allowed to have friends. People aren't allowed to know me.
It's hard on mum, I know, but I make it easier sometimes. I make her forget. I promised I wouldn't do that today. She's going to cry when I tell her I broke my promise.
"Have a seat, dear," Mrs. Launchberry says, right on cue, gesturing to the seat in the back corner. My desk's right in front of a shelf with the Harry Potter series on top of it. I smile, for myself only. There's no need for anyone else to see any joy in my despair.
When I arrived this morning breath was a foreign aspect to me. My lungs were squeezed so tight that the hand wrapped around my throat wasn't of concern. My tongue stuck like glue to my pallet, and I had the constant fear of actually wetting myself. It happens. It seems there's some rather cynical correlation between fear and bowel movements in people like me. Although, that assumption's based solely on myself. I've never met anyone else like me.
Jeremiah, the boy in front of me, turns around in his chair. His eyes are like smoldering caves of darkness, deep indents in his otherwise flawless physiognomy. His mind is quiet, compared to the rest of them. It seized hold my interest from the moment I walked into this dreadful, colorless confinement.
An invisible finger touches the left corner of his full round lips and curves them upward, into a lopsided smile. "Never been to school, huh?"
I shrug, wondering exactly how the stranger rule applied here. Mum said they could be dangerous, but she also stuffed me into a school full of them.
"Cat cut your tongue?"
"Something like that," I say, leaning forward a fraction. "Crimlette does it when she doesn't like someone. And I trust her."
"Ouch," he says, turning his back on me. It takes him less than a minute to lock his eyes on mine for a second time. His glare is intense, causing ripples on my skin, a chilly feeling that erects the fine hairs all over. "You're still new to this."
"Wow, are you a mind reader?" I say with mock-surprise.
"Actually, I am."
"Hmf! Whatever. Can you turn around now? Please?"
"Uh, I can, but you should try reading my mind while I'm reading your thoughts. It's very distracting."
"You're kidding, right?"
His eyes are unwavering. I lay like an open book in front of him, and I have no idea of how to end this chapter and close myself off from him. "Why don't you tell me, since you won't stay outta my thoughts."
"Stop staring at me and maybe you'll stop thinking about me." "So, who is it?"
This catches me off-guard. I try to ignore him. I don't like prying eyes. Curiosity is what gets people hurt, and I promised mum we wouldn't have to move again, ever. I've already broken one promise, I'm not about to make the same mistake again. "Who is what?"
"It's your grandma, ain't it?"
"What are you talking about?"
"The Soothsayer from which you descend, it's your grandma, ain't it?"
My heart has an aneurysm, bleeding with rage and fear alike. I take deep breaths through my nose, exhaling through my mouth to calm the cataclysmic tempest within me. "Look, I don't now what you're talking about."
He slams his palm down on my desk, loud enough to attract some eyes. His face is flushed with rage, his jaw muscles flexed. "The witch in your family. Who is it?" he shouts. More people look at us.
"Shush, d****t!"
"It's your grandma?"
How does he know this? I delve into the depths of his cranium, and this time all I can find is silence. He's blocking me. "How are you doing that?"
"You should leave town. It ain't big enough for the two of us."
He gets up and storms out of the classroom, slamming the door with enough force to break the unmotivated squared window. The glass shatters on the ground, multiplying into thousands of small translucent spikes rattling to a startling stop. Everyone looks at me, as if it's my fault.
I get up and sneak out of the room, aware that they're eyes follow my every movement until the wall creates a barrier between them and me. My palms are as wet as my eyes. It's another gift I possess. My entire body likes to cry in distress, of which my eyes make it known most.
For sixteen years I believed I was alone in this world, that I didn't belong. That I'd never belong. Then I met him. Now I know it's true.
I don't have it in me to move halfway across the world again. To make some strange place my home when I've just become acquainted with Broken Pines. I wanna go back home, to Weatherfalls, but I can't. I have no home. I don't belong in this world.
I open my locker and stuff my books into the small space.
"Why are you here?" Jeremiah says, appearing out of nowhere.
He imprisons me, cuffing an arm on either side of me, my back up against the cold steel, his warm body pressed up against mine. His face is a fraction from mine, so close I can taste his breath, the sweet mint of his gum that radiates from it.
"Who sent you?" he screams in a demonic rage, his palms clattering against the metal sheets.
"No one," I say, blinking to remove the fog from my eyes. It darts down my cheeks, leaving itchy tracks that I'm too afraid to scratch. One of the tears dangle at the tip of my chin, clinging to me for dear life, not ready to plunge to its death just yet.
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not, I swear." I exhale a shuddering breath as he steps away from me. I've never seen rage like his, I've only felt it. "I'm on the run, too."
His mind's still shut. I can't get in. But he knows that I'm telling the truth. I can see it in his eyes, as he'd seen it in my mind.
"You're gonna get us both killed."
"Wait," I say, grabbing his arm before he can storm off like a spoilt b***h.
He yanks his arm free, towering over me. "Stay away from me. Get the hell outta town. Or you'll regret it."
I swallowed aloud, the sheer volume of it unsettling me. I stand and wallow in shame and self-pity for another minute, trembling like an African in the North Pole. I wipe my tears away, and head outside. It's too early for a bus ride. Besides, I want answers.
I rush after Jeremiah, but I can't find him anywhere. It's not possible for someone to disappear so rigorously in such a short space of time. But he'd done it. He'd walked outside and vanished into thin air. I give up my search after looking almost all over the premises. There's still tomorrow. Some way or another he's gonna tell me what I wanna know. Starting with how he blocked his mind.
I walk down the winding black road, the Cretacious python etched into the depths of the neighborhood. It's a long walk, longer than I'd first imagined, but I don't mind. The chirping chatter of the birds keep me company. Nature comforts me with her soft touch, a skin-grazing breeze. She envelops me in the warmth of the sunlight falling over me, giving me an aura of yellow, one of life energy, much needed at that.
If it were up to me I'd stay in Broken Pines. But I can't lie to mum. Last time I lied innocent people died. I have more control now, but it doesn't change what happened. The last thing I wanna do is hurt mum, or anyone else. I've done that enough, I think.
Our house is hard to spot in the grandiose scheme of things, a small dot between the three-story houses frowning down on it. Its less than half the size of the smallest house next to ours. But it's home. Or, it was.
I check my watch. I've been walking for an hour. Mum should be home soon. I head to my room and remove the bruised and battered suitcase from underneath my bed, which creaks in protest when I sit down on top of it. The mattress gives way, not that I'm fat, I'm not, but because it's so old and worn.
I pack everything I can fit - a trick learnt from constant fleeing. Whatever doesn't fit has to stay behind. It's difficult to let go, even of stupid things, like the spider in the corner of my  windowsill. I'd fed her, every day since we moved in. Mum wanted to kill her with bug spray. I didn't let her. Who's gonna take care of her now, when I'm no longer here? I zip my suitcase shut and head into mum's room. Her suitcase isn't under the bed. I look again, to make sure. I open the closet, gasping in surprise. The bleak closet gapes back at me, empty and desolate.
I run to my room to grab my phone, and pause in front of my desk. I'd been so absorbed that I'd missed the note: My dear Arabella. I'm no longer able to go on like this. I love you, honey, but this is goodbye. Please forgive me, my sweet, loving girl. Love, mom.
My tears stain the ink until nothing but a black smudge remains on the soft paper. I grab my suitcase and leave the empty house with a backward glance. In the road, ahead of me, I see him. He's handsome, even if he isn't polite. His hair's long and dark like his aura, but with less curls than mine.
"Going somewhere?" he asks, his voice husky, sincere and attractive, unlike before.
"You made it clear you don't want me here."
"I can see that. So, where you heading?"
"Home. I have nowhere left to go…"