Robert's pencil tapped nervously against his desk, the sound barely audible over the hum of the holographic projector at the front of the classroom. The teacher droned on about the history of the Etherion Dominion's expansion, but Robert's mind was elsewhere. His gaze kept drifting to the new kid, Darian, who sat a few rows ahead. Hunched over his desk, the boy tensed his shoulders, as if trying to make himself invisible. He hadn't spoken to anyone since he arrived, and the way he avoided eye contact made Robert's chest tighten with unease.
When the bell finally rang, Robert lingered by the door, waiting for Darian to pass. "Hey," he said, offering a friendly smile. "You're new, right? I'm Robert."
Darian glanced at him briefly, his blue eyes flickering with something unreadable, before muttering, "Yeah," and slipping past without another word.
Robert frowned, watching him disappear into the crowded hallway. He wasn't used to being brushed off so easily at least not like this. The next day, he tried again, this time catching Darian at the hallway.
"Hey, how's it going? Need help finding your next class?" Darian didn't even look up. "I'm fine," he said flatly, walking away.
Robert sighed, running a hand through his hair. He wasn't sure why he cared so much, but something about Darian's isolation gnawed at him. At lunch, he brought it up with Freddie, who was busy levitating a fry above his tray with his telekinetic powers.
"Hey, have you noticed that new kid? Darian?" Robert asked, poking at his food. "He seems… I don't know, lonely."
Freddie let the fry drop back onto his tray and shrugged. "Not really. Why? You planning to adopt him or something?"
Robert rolled his eyes. "I just think he could use a friend. He's been here a few days and hasn't talked to anyone."
Freddie grinned, leaning back in his chair. "so you want to befriend him? we can invite him to hangout with us after school some day"
Robert smiled, feeling a flicker of hope. Maybe it was as simple as that—reaching out to someone who needed it.
By the time Robert got home that evening back from school, his thoughts were a tangled mess. He collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling as the events of the day replayed in his mind.
"What is up with me?"
"He is just another kid at school, yet theirs something about him,"
The exhaustion of day tugged at him. His eyes became heavy, his body became loose, and before he knew it, he was drifting off to sleep.
The dream came without warning. One moment, he was in his room; the next, he stood in a vast, shadowy space, the air thick with fog. The ground beneath him was cold and unyielding, and the silence pressed against his ears like a weight. "Hello?" he called out, his voice echoing into the void. "Is anyone there?"
No response.
He started walking, his footsteps muffled by the fog. The darkness seemed to stretch on forever, but then—a light. It was faint at first, a flicker in the distance, but it grew brighter as he approached. At its center stood a man, his features obscured by the glow. His voice, calm, cut through the silence.
"Robert," the man said, "what happened to our people… it wasn't your fault. You carry no shame for the past."
Robert froze, his heart pounding. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What are you talking about?"
"Help him, you will understand when it's right," "Help who? I don't understand."
The man didn't answer. The light grew blinding, and Robert threw up an arm to shield his eyes. Waking up on the floor of his room, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. The dream clung to him like a second skin, its meaning just out of reach. "What was that?" Robert wondered while trying to catch his breath. "It…. It was all a dream" Robert walked to the restroom, still agitated. He splashed his face with warm water hoping to calm his nerves.
Staring at himself in the mirror, water dripping from his face, with multiples though filling his head, "Help him? Did he mean Darian?" he asked himself.
The next morning, Robert dragged himself to school, the dream still haunting his thoughts. He spotted Darian in the hallway, his head down as usual. When a small object slipped from Darian's bag and clattered to the floor, Robert seized the opportunity. "Hey, you dropped this," he said, scooping it up and holding it out.
Darian hesitated before taking it. "Thanks," he muttered. Robert started walking with him to class together, "So where are you from?" asked Robert "I'm from Section 23," Darian said, his tone flat. "They moved us out a couple of months ago. Now I'm staying in a shelter." Robert's chest tightened. Section 23 had been one of the Dominion's outer colonies, ravaged by a disaster. He wanted to ask more, but Darian's closed-off expression stopped him.
Meanwhile, in their telekinesis class Professor Kael, a tall man with silver hair tied back in a loose ponytail and sharp, piercing eyes that seemed to miss nothing stood in front of the classroom His voice carried a calm authority as he addressed the class.
"Today, we're focusing on precision and control," Professor Kael said, gesturing to the heavy metal containers lined up in the center of the room. "You've all mastered the basics of lifting objects, but true telekinesis is about finesse. You must be able to manipulate your target with the same ease as you would your own limbs. Remember, it's not just about strength—it's about focus."
Freddie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his stomach churning. He hated these practical exercises. While some of his classmates made telekinesis look effortless, he always seemed to struggle. Across the room, Lila, a girl with shimmering purple hair and a confident smirk, was already levitating her container a few inches off the ground, her hands moving gracefully, as if conducting an invisible orchestra. Nearby, Jaxon, a burly guy with arms like tree trunks, was grunting as he lifted his container with sheer brute force, his face turning red from the effort.
"Fredrickson," Professor Kael called, snapping Freddie out of his thoughts. "You're up."
Freddie swallowed hard and stepped forward, his palms slick with sweat. The container in front of him was larger than the others, its surface dented and scratched from countless failed attempts. He took a deep breath, focusing on the object as he raised his hands. The room fell silent, the weight of everyone's attention pressing down on him.
"Focus, Fredrickson," Professor Kael said, his tone firm but not unkind. "Feel the surrounding energy. Channel it."
Freddie closed his eyes, trying to block out the whispers and snickers he knew were coming. He could feel the faint hum of the room's energy, a tingling sensation that started in his fingertips and spread up his arms. He visualized the container lifting, imagined it floating effortlessly in the air. But when he opened his eyes, the container hadn't budged.
"Come on, Freddie," someone muttered behind him. "Even my grandma could lift that."
A few stifled laughs followed, and Freddie's cheeks burned. He clenched his fists, trying again. This time, the container shuddered, rising a few centimeters off the ground before wobbling precariously. Freddie's breath hitched as he struggled to maintain control, but the container crashed back to the floor with a deafening clang.
The room erupted in laughter, and Freddie's shoulders slumped. He could feel Professor Kael's eyes on him, but he couldn't bring himself to meet the man's gaze.
"Enough," Professor Kael said sharply, silencing the class. "Telekinetic ability is not a measure of worth. Every one of you has struggled at some point. Remember that before you mock someone else's efforts."
The laughter died down, replaced by an awkward silence. Freddie mumbled an apology and retreated to the back of the room, his face still burning. He hated this—hated the way his powers always seemed to fail him when it mattered most. He glanced at Lila, who was now effortlessly spinning her container in midair, and felt a pang of envy.
After class, Freddie lingered behind, pretending to fiddle with his bag until the room emptied. He didn't want to face anyone, not after that disaster. But as he turned to leave, Professor Kael stopped him.
"Fredrickson," the professor said, his tone softer now. "A moment, please."
Freddie hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah?"
Professor Kael studied him for a moment, his silver eyebrows furrowed. "You're trying too hard," he said finally. "Telekinetic energy responds to intention, not force. You're fighting it instead of working with it."
Freddie frowned. "I don't know how to do that."
"Then learn," Professor Kael said simply. "Start small. Focus on something lighter, something that doesn't intimidate you. And stop worrying about what everyone else thinks. Your power is your own no one else's."
Freddie nodded slowly, though he wasn't sure he believed it. "Thanks, Professor."
As he left the classroom, he spotted Robert and Darian in the hallway. Robert introduced them, but Darian barely acknowledged Freddie before hurrying off.
"Weird guy," Freddie muttered, watching him go. Then he frowned. "Hey, did you notice he wasn't wearing his nexband?"
Robert glanced down the hall where Darian had disappeared. The absence of the nexband was strange everyone wore one. It was essential for everything from accessing personal data to unlocking doors. The thought nagged at him as they parted ways.
Freddie trudged up the steps to his house, his shoulders heavy with the weight of the day. The telekinesis class disaster, the whispers, the laughter it all played on a loop in his mind. He fumbled with the door handle, the familiar creak of the hinges doing little to ease his mood. The house was quiet, save for the indistinct murmur of the TV from the living room.
He pressed his nexband against the door lock, the AI system chirping cheerfully, "Welcome home, Freddie." The door slid open, and he stepped inside, kicking off his shoes and dropping his bag by the stairs.
In the living room, his dad, Cade, sat slumped in his usual chair, his Etherion Ranger's uniform jacket slung over the armrest. The glow from the TV cast harsh shadows across his face, highlighting the deep lines etched into his forehead. A half-empty glass of amber liquid sat on the table beside him, the ice long melted. He didn't look up as Freddie walked in, didn't even acknowledge his presence.
Freddie hesitated in the doorway, his throat tightening. He hated this—the silence, the tension, the way his dad could make him feel invisible with just a glance. But tonight, he was too tired to care. He turned to head upstairs when his dad's voice cut through the quiet.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Freddie froze, his hand gripping the banister. "To my room," he said, keeping his tone neutral. "It's been a long day."
Cade snorted, finally turning to look at him. His dark brown eyes were cold, his mustache twitching as he spoke. "Long day? You think you've got it rough? Try leading a squadron of Rangers through a Sector 7 skirmish, then come talk to me about a long day."
Freddie bit his tongue, his fists clenching at his sides. He knew better than to argue, but the words spilled out, anyway. "I didn't say I had it rough. I just—"
"Just what?" Cade interrupted, his voice rising. "You think you're too good to help around here? The backyard's a mess. Get out there and clean it up."
Freddie's chest tightened. The backyard was always a mess — Cade never lifted a finger to help, and Freddie was tired of being the one to pick up the slack. "I'll do it tomorrow," he said, his voice trembling. "I'm exhausted."
Cade slammed the glass down on the table, the sound making Freddie flinch. "Exhausted? You don't know the meaning of the word. You're soft, that's what you are. Just like—" He paused, his jaw tightening.
Freddie's breath caught. He knew what his dad had been about to say. Just like your mother. It was a low blow, even for Cade, and it hit Freddie like a punch to the gut. His mom, Helene, had been anything but soft. She'd been kind, strong, and full of life until she wasn't. Until the day she died giving birth to him.
"Don't talk about her," Freddie said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You don't get to talk about her."
Cade's face darkened, and he stood up, towering over Freddie. "You think you're so smart, don't you? You think you're better than me? Well, let me tell you something, kid. You're the reason she's gone. If it weren't for you, she'd still be here."
The words cut deeper than any insult Cade had ever thrown at him. Freddie felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. He'd always known, deep down, that his dad blamed him for Helene's death, but hearing it out loud was different. It was like a knife twisting in his chest.
"I didn't ask for this," Freddie choked out, his voice breaking. "I didn't ask for her to die."
Cade's expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of pain breaking through the anger. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the same cold mask he always wore. "Just clean the damn backyard," he muttered, sinking back into his chair and turning up the volume on the TV.
Freddie turned and bolted up the stairs, his vision blurring with tears. His bedroom door shut and leaned against it, his chest heaving. The room was small and cluttered, but it was the one place where he could escape, even if only for a little while.
He stumbled over to his bed and reached under the pillow, pulling out the necklace his mom had left behind. It was a simple silver chain with a small pendant shaped like a star, the only thing he had of hers. He clutched it tightly; the metal digging into his palm as he sank onto the bed.
"I wish you were here," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I wish you could tell me what to do."
But there was no answer, just the sound of the TV blaring downstairs and the ache in his chest that never seemed to go away. He curled up on the bed; the necklace pressed to his heart, and let the tears fall.