Mistakes: 1.4

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James:

“James, Bex.” Sarah’s voice called from the kitchen. “Breakfast’s up in five. Finish getting ready!”

“Kay!” James shouted back, his head turning momentarily towards his bedroom door, before returning his attention to the mirrored door of his closet. He watched himself closely, holding onto the handle as firmly as he could. “Okay,” he mumbled under his breath. “Now then. Fly. Go on.” He tried to will himself upwards off the ground. Nothing. He groaned, then tried again, thinking of air and floating things and just about anything he thought might help. In spite of this, his feet remained very firmly planted to the ground.

“James,” Sarah called once more. “Grub’s up! C’mon, we’re gonna be late!”

James sighed, returning his attention to the door.

“Coming!” He shouted back, letting go of the dresser handle and taking a step towards his door. He let out a little yelp of surprise as his foot came down on nothing but air. He tipped forwards, a feeling disorientingly similar to falling, and threw out his arms to stabilize himself. He wobbled slightly for a few moments, before righting himself. “O-okay,” he muttered. “So that wasn’t a dream. I really am flying right now. Good to know.” He reached behind himself, grasping for the handle of his cabinet and using it to push himself back down onto the ground. “Now I just need to figure out how to land.”

“James!” Came Sarah’s voice again. “Last warning! Come eat your breakfast or I’m coming in there to drag you out here myself!”

“Right, sorry,” James replied with a small sigh, making his way through the door towards the kitchen. “Be right there.”


Casper:

Casper made his way to the school by a roundabout route that morning, the same as he had done the morning before and all the mornings of the last school week, taking a different route each time. He figured he may as well use his morning commute to try and find bad people for Tasha. It wasn’t a task he relished in any particular fashion, searching specifically for pockets of negative emotion. Quite the opposite, in fact. But he had made a promise, and Tasha didn’t really like to be kept waiting.

Casper extended his power out with a groan, feeling his personal bubble of awareness expand to it’s maximum range. Immediately, he felt minds colliding with his psyche by the dozen, from the thankfully neutral emotions of most early morning commuters, to the many spots of varied color littered all throughout the nearby buildings. He had been prepared for it, had known it was coming, and still the wave of input threatened to overwhelm him. He held on tight, letting the storm front of it break over him. He let out a small sigh of relief as it began to subside, his mind acclimating slowly to the influx. With a concentrated effort, he slowly began trying to filter out the neutral emotions from the crowd, letting them fade to white noise in his mind. It helped, in a way, having a backdrop of calm, almost bored people all around; it gave him something to anchor himself to. That done, Casper resumed his journey towards the school, his attention focused on the buildings that littered his side of the street. Cafe’s, alleyways, and apartment buildings.

The method wasn’t perfect. Even at his maximum range, Casper couldn’t fit whole multi-story buildings within his perception, but it functioned well enough for the first three stories or so. This was simply the fastest way of searching he’d come up with thus far.

The first three blocks or so were largely uneventful, littered with the occasional spot of misery or fear, but nothing of the sort that he thought might indicate a crime. The lack of activity wasn’t too much of a surprise to him. It usually took him days of searching like this to find a lead. He began to hum slightly to himself as he walked, trying to stave off the ever present boredom of the morning commuters in some small way, not that it really helped at all.

It was after about twenty minutes of this, that something finally caught Casper’s attention. A mind, male, if he’d had to guess by the color of it, although guessing like that wasn’t exactly perfect. He’d thought Tasha was a boy the first time he felt her mind. The feelings Casper got from this man were an odd mix. Pleasure, power, that strange, icky sort of warmth that adults seemed to feel when they liked someone. All of it seemed to be tinged by something else that Casper couldn’t quite define. He glanced up at the source, a second story window on a nearby apartment complex. The window was closed, the curtains drawn. He’d felt that sort of feeling before, once or twice, and the reason for it was relatively easy for him to discern. What caught his attention, however, was the other mind in the space, located perhaps half a foot beneath the first, and presumably the object of their attentions.

Casper almost dismissed it at first, pushing it into the back of his mind along with the commuters. It seemed just as bored as they were. He spared a small chuckle at the first mind’s apparent inability to satisfy, and was about to move on, when a small facet of the second mind caught his attention. Immediately, he pulled his power back from the room, feeling a little sick, and glanced around, searching for the address of the building. He looked back towards the window, noting the spacing of it for future reference. He dug his phone out of his pocket and began typing in a text.

‘Tasha, come see me after school, okay? I’ve found one. It’s urgent.’

The response came within a minute.

‘Good job, Cas! I knew you could do it!’

Casper looked at the phone screen blankly for a few moments, not sure how to take that, then he shook himself. He pocketed his phone and began pulling his power back towards himself as best he could. He spared the window one last glance before he set off, feeling himself shudder ever so slightly in disgust.

He set off towards school at a jog, not wanting to be late.


James:

James struggled to keep his mind on classes that day. He found his thoughts floating back every few moments to the idea of flight, at once both incredibly scary and the coolest thing he’d ever experienced.

One small thing niggled at him, and it was something he found hard to dismiss. He’d never heard of anyone with powers before, flight or otherwise. It seemed ridiculous to think he might be the only one; an almost laughable idea, in fact. But if he wasn’t the first, then why hadn’t he ever heard of anyone else who could do things? Where were they all? What had happened to them? Over the day, James looked at the problem from every angle he could think of and every time, he came to the same conclusion. He needed to keep this a secret.

The biggest problem with that, of course, was control. James was acutely aware that he had yet to activate this strange new power willingly, and that meant he could possibly just start floating up into the air without a moment’s notice, which wasn’t the sort of thing he expected to keep secret. He needed to practice, and to do it in a place where neither his parents, nor anyone else, for that matter, would be likely to see. That, unfortunately, ruled out his house. His father had never really mastered the delicate art of knocking before entering his children’s rooms. James sighed. He supposed he’d just have to find a place, then.

At lunch, he went to his locker and retrieved his phone, sending his parents a quick message.

‘I got invited to go see a movie with friends after school. Can I take a bus home?’

He lay the phone down and set about retrieving his lunch while he waited for the reply. It didn’t take his mother long.

‘Of course, sweetie. You have fun and make sure to get home safe.’

James read the message with a small sigh, wondering how hard it had been for his mother to send it, then pushed the idea out of his mind. There was nothing he could do to fix that particular problem at the moment anyway.

He placed his phone back in his bag and went off to eat his lunch, deciding to track down Casper again and make sure he had something to eat today. He found him without too much issue, but the other boy seemed just as preoccupied as he felt, staring up at the clouds, unblinking. They sat together in silence, content for the moment not to pry, and picked at the contents of James’ lunchbox. Casper had apparently forgotten his again.

Later, after school had ended, James set off. He had a few locations in mind, a few that might make good practice spots. The closest he could think of, however, was a small alleyway on the back end of the school campus. Some architectural misstep in the surrounding cityscape had led to the buildings around it being packed just a little too closely together, making it harder to fit roads in between them. Fortunately, that meant that this particular alleyway was distanced somewhat from the bustle of the main city streets.

James approached the edge of the alleyway quietly, grasping onto the links of the thick, interlocking wire fence that separated the school from the outside world, and climbing them with relative ease. He plopped himself unceremoniously down on the hard concrete floor of the alleyway, and set to work, digging in his bag for the thick, winter jumper that his mother made him keep in there constantly. He wrapped one sleeve around his waist and made a simple knot, before looping the other sleeve through the wire links of the fence. He gave it a few tugs, satisfying himself that he was well and truly tethered to the ground, before setting to work attempting to fly.

It was slow work, and James was at it for a solid ten minutes before anything interesting happened. After a few dozen failed attempts, he tried to remember what he’d done that morning, thinking of how he’d tried to walk, then found himself hoisted into the air. He folded his arms for a moment, it wasn’t much to go on. Well, he decided with a shrug, he might as well give it a go. Closing his eyes, James began trying to replicate the feel of the morning’s event, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in simulation of walking. The effect was immediate, James felt a momentary hard jolt against his midsection, a great tightness around his waist, then there was a tearing sound, and the pressure lessened slightly. He opened his eyes, only a little surprised to find himself in the air. What was more shocking, however, was how high up he was. He hung, suspended, perhaps twenty feet up in the air. It looked like the jumper hadn’t been sturdy enough to tether him down. Belatedly, he realized that the pressure against his midsection was his jumper sleeve, the knot pulled tight around him by the force of his separation from the ground. He began trying to loosen it, cursing a little under his breath. How was he going to explain the damaged clothing to his mother?

“H-hey,” came a voice from below, stopping James in his tracks. “A-are you… flying?” He spun in the air, turning to face the source of the sound, before realizing how exposed his face was, and slapping his hands up to cover it with a yelp. The speaker was a girl, a few years older than him, by the looks of it, every inch of exposed skin covered by a mottled pattern of bruises and sunburn.

“N-no!” He squeaked between his fingers. “I-I’m practicing a magic trick!”

The girl, surprisingly, laughed.

“Nah, that’s bull,” she chuckled. “You’re totally flying. That’s cool though, I promise I won’t tell.”

“B-but I’m not flying!” James protested. “R-really! I-It’s f-for a play!”

The girl laughed a little harder at that.

“Kid,” she chortled. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re a terrible liar? It’s okay, though, you don’t need to worry. I’m special too, you know.”

This proclamation caught James off guard. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it hadn’t been that.

“S-special?” He asked. “H-how?”

The girl shrugged, squaring her shoulders, before crouching down momentarily and launching herself across the alleyway towards the fence in a standing leap. A leap that carried her at least thirty feet. The girl had probably been aiming to land on top of the fence in a crouch, but her foot caught on the top of it, and she tripped, toppling off the fence with a squeal and landing with a thud in the grass on the other side. James stared at the girl, wide eyed as she stood up, blushing a furious red with embarrassment, and dusted herself off.

“My name’s Tasha,” she muttered, somewhat deflated. “I have super strength, and if you ever tell anyone what just happened, I’ll thump you.”

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Mistakes: 1.1

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Casper sat huddled into the faded red leather of the seat, his body pressed tight into the corner. He found it was best to find small spaces when he had to deal with nerves. The nerves weren’t his, although that didn’t help much. There was a boy seated a few tables away and the nerves were coming off of him in waves, intensifying every time the young waitress made another circuit of the diner. Casper didn’t like the other boy’s feelings. They were agitating, tinged with a slightly alien, warm sort of emotion that he sometimes felt from those older than himself. It always made him a little uncomfortable.

Casper groaned as the waitress passed the older teen once more, eliciting a fresh wave of anxiety from him, and tried to find some way to distract himself. There were other emotions in the room, of course, emanating from the dozen or so customers and staff that littered the diner, but the nervous boy was, by far, the loudest of them. Casper tried to distract himself by focusing on the calmer, albeit quieter mind of an old man sitting a short way away, trying to drown out the other boy’s perpetual anxiety. It helped, a little.

Casper checked his phone, drumming his fingers impatiently against the greasy table top. She was meant to be here ten minutes ago. Where was she?

He resolved to give her another two minutes, a resolution that broke with yet another wave of anxiety from the nearby teenager who, he noticed, had just moved to flag down the waitress.

Casper tapped his phone a few times, his fingers shaking slightly as he pulled up the relevant contact information in his call list. The older boy was getting more and more nervous by the second, mumbling to the waitress in a voice too low to make out from this distance. Casper took refuge in the much calmer, mildly amused feelings emanating from the waitress. He pulled up a text message box and began to type. Before he finished writing, however, the phone pinged, the text window showing him a new message.

‘Hey Cas! Change of plans. Can u meet me? Tasha.’

Casper practically groaned with relief, picking up his phone and making his way to the door at a fast walk, trying to put as much distance between the nervous boy and himself as possible. A small bell chimed above the diner door as he pulled it open, drawing a glance from the balding man behind the cashier’s stand who, upon seeing that he wasn’t a new customer, swiftly returned his attention to polishing the counter.

As Casper took his first few steps out onto the street, the smells of car exhaust and recent rain washing over him, he felt the mood emanating from the diner change. Just as he was about to leave Casper’s range, the nervous boy’s emotions switched from trepidation to a strange, joy tinted relief, practically on a dime. The change caught Casper off guard and he stood still for a moment, letting himself bask in the now much more pleasant glow of the teenager’s mind. Just a few seconds in, the nervousness faded away, the memory of it much easier to take in retrospect. Curious, Casper took a step or two back towards the diner, glancing in through the window. The teenager was still sitting exactly where he had been, a wide grin now covering most of his face. The waitress tended to a different customer a little way away, her own expression largely unchanged. Stepping a little closer to her, Casper felt her feelings brush once more against his mind. Her thoughts were, much like the other teen’s, strangely happy, although lacking the strange, giddy quality of the boy’s.

Casper grinned. It was hard to help himself. The feeling he got from the two of them was a very pleasant one. He felt his phone ping in his pocket once more and pulled it out, noting the address that now flashed on the screen. He set off at a brisk trot, his mind far lighter than it had been a few moments ago.

Casper tried to keep a distance from other people as he made his way towards the meeting point, holding his power pulled in tight around himself. Pulling it back was easier with fewer people around. That was one of the many reasons why he tended to avoid crowds. Large groups of people had a tendency to be… challenging.

Casper hummed lightly to himself as he walked, holding the residual joy from the diner in his mind as best he could. After a few minutes, however, it began to fade, leaving a mild trepidation in its wake. When Tasha missed meetups, it usually meant she’d found herself a distraction. Casper rarely liked Tasha’s distractions.

As he drew close to the meeting point, Casper let his senses fold out to their full breadth once more, deciding it would be best to avoid walking blind into whatever it was that Tasha was doing this time.

He felt them immediately. Four points of emotion, one of them very recognizably Tasha, each one bright and intense. He would have called it anger, except that wasn’t quite the word. He’d felt real anger before, and this wasn’t it. This was simpler, purer in a way. Aggression. Casper felt his heart begin to beat faster at the very feel of it. Whoever was over there with her, they were fighting.

With some effort, Casper began attempting to weaken his power, limiting the input he felt drawing in from the four combatants and trying to bring himself back into a state of calm. Fight or flight was intense, especially from four people at once. It became just a little more bearable to him when one of the four lights flickered out in his mind’s eye. With a small sigh of relief, Casper slowed his pace, deciding it would be best to let Tasha finish before he arrived.

Casper sensed it as the two remaining strangers tried to fight, their emotions fluctuating moment to moment as blows were dealt, taken, or missed entirely. Even from this distance, unable to see the three fighters, Casper could tell it wasn’t going well for the two strangers. He felt Tasha’s attention shift to one of them as a blow was landed against her. She began directing the majority of her efforts towards the unfortunate individual as the second stranger began to circle around behind her.

The boy shrugged off his backpack, taking a moment to rummage around and eventually finding a small roll of cloth he had kept in the back pocket ever since he first met Tasha. He wrapped the scarf tightly around himself, concealing the lower half of his face as best he could before zipping up his bag and continuing on.

Another surge of emotion and a second light flickered out in Casper’s mind, leaving Tasha alone with the one who’d made his way behind her. Casper winced in sympathy. This last remaining opponent had managed to land a few blows on Tasha’s back. She wasn’t going to be gentle with him.

Casper rounded the corner to see a brown haired man struggling fiercely against a girl near enough a whole foot shorter than him, her skin so matted with partially healed bruises and perpetual sunburn as to render the original color virtually unidentifiable. As Casper watched, she rushed forward, attempting to wrap her arms around the larger man in an impromptu bear hug, only for him to slip an arm free and land a haphazard punch across her jaw. The two struggled for a few moments, the girl slowly restraining the man one limb at a time and bearing him to the ground. In different circumstances, Casper might have found it funny. A grown adult being wrestled to the ground by a girl who couldn’t have been any older than fifteen. Strangely, however, he was not in the least bit amused.

The girl glanced up at him, flashing a grin.

“Hey, Cas,” she said warmly. “Just gimme one sec, okay?” With that, she returned her attention to the pinned man. “Now then, Mr drug dealer,” she murmured, moving her mouth close to the older man’s ear. “You’re gonna sit nice and still while my buddy here goes through your friends’ pockets, okay?” The man’s response came as an angry exclamation, his face pressed so hard against the ground that the words were lost. The point, however, would have been clear even without an emotion sense. Tasha looked up to Casper and jerked her head towards the unconscious figures of the other two fighters.

Casper took a moment to calm himself. The adrenaline flowing through the other two minds pooling around him. He tried his best to separate it from himself, before moving forward, lifting his scarf to cover a little more of his face, and beginning to search the two men. Behind him, he could still hear the restrained dealer’s muffled swearing, cut short when Tasha placed a sharp strike against his midsection. The boy winced in sympathy at the man’s pain.

“Do you have to be so rough with them?” He asked quietly, his voice muffled slightly by the fabric layering his mouth.

“If I want them to take me seriously? Yeah.” The girl replied, her tone just a touch condescending. “I need them to be afraid of me, otherwise they won’t listen when I tell them to stop.” Casper wasn’t sure he believed that. He could feel the satisfaction of her victory radiating out from her. “So,” she asked. “Is he scared yet?”

Casper shook his head with an angry groan. He hated helping with this sort of thing and the rage emanating from the pinned man was not helping. Tasha’s excitement was worse, though, like salt in the wound.

“Of course not,” he muttered, irritated. “He just got done fighting. The only emotion he has right now is that he really wants to punch you. You have to let that wear off first if you want him to get scared.”

“Ok!” The girl answered, grinning at him. “Got it! Thanks, little buddy.”

Casper didn’t reply, focusing all his attention on searching the unconscious men. His task completed, the boy stood and made his way back outside. He began pulling his emotion sense back towards himself, shrinking his perception to a bubble only a few feet wide around him as he slumped himself against a tree, waiting in the cool evening air for his friend to finish up. He would have turned the power off completely, but he had no idea how. He felt the last of the anger leave his mind with a shudder and took a series of long, quivering breaths as he tried to calm himself. He hated being angry.

Tasha wasn’t long to follow, stepping back out herself a few minutes later and glancing around before catching sight of the boy and giving him a wave, heading over at a brisk trot.

“Heya, Cas,” she called as she came within earshot. “Sorry I didn’t make it earlier, I kinda found a thing.”

“I noticed,” Casper muttered, his eyes downcast. “I hate it when you make me watch that kind of stuff.”

“Yeah,” Tasha replied, her tone changing in an instant, becoming anxious. “I know. Sorry.”

Casper kept his eyes on the ground, trying to fight back the water from his eyes.

“…Ok.”

He felt her mind entering his little bubble just a moment before her hand grasped his shoulder. Her feelings surprised him. There was compassion there, sadness. She really was sorry, at least a little.

“Hey, I mean it, Cas,” she murmured. “I’m sorry I made you feel those things, okay?”

“… Then why’d you do it?” The boy asked, his voice small. He turned to face the girl, feeling, as he did so, a small tear trickling gently down his cheek.

“I… Sorry,” Tasha muttered. “I didn’t think. I just… I saw those guys and what they were doing and I… sorry.”

The words rang true to Casper, as did the emotion behind them. Shakily, the boy nodded, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

“Y-yeah… okay.”

The older girl smiled, slinging an arm over his shoulders.

“Thanks, buddy.”

The two were silent for a long while as they began walking together in the rough direction of the diner. After a few minutes, Casper dug his hand in his pocket and passed the girl a crumpled wad of paper.

“H-here you go. The money from those guys you t-took down.”

Tasha took the money with a murmur of thanks, slowly counting out the bills for a few minutes, before offering Casper a few of the notes.

“Here. You deserve something too. You helped, after all.”

Casper would have objected. He didn’t need money. He didn’t want the money. But he knew Tasha would be offended if he refused. He tucked the small pad of notes into his pocket with a mumbled “Thanks.”

“So,” Tasha started, injecting a touch of energy into her voice. “Might as well get back to the point of our meetup. Have you found any new targets for me?”

Casper shook his head.

“Sorry, no. It’s… hard, trying to find bad people with just this sense to go on. It’s really difficult to be sure.”

Before he’d even finished, Casper could feel the disappointment roiling off of Tasha like a fine mist. She let out a dramatic sigh.

“Are you really trying, though?” She asked, glancing sidelong at him. “When you found me, you said you’d help me find bad people to rob instead of good ones. When you said that, I kinda thought you’d be sending more people my way.”

“Of course I’m trying,” the boy groaned. “It’s just really hard when you can see as much as I can. Like, I can tell there’s a robber in a shop, but I can see how desperate he is for money. Or I can tell you about the teacher who has dirty feelings about kids in his class, but I can also feel how guilty it makes him, and I can tell from the kids around him that he hasn’t done anything. It’s… complicated.”

Tasha thought about this for a moment, then grinned, her posture relaxing slightly.

“Sounds simple enough to me. Send me the ones who’ve actually done bad stuff and leave the pervy teacher alone, as long as he hasn’t done anything.”

“No,” Casper replied, shaking his head. “It’s not that easy. I’m the one who’s having to make those choices, I don’t wanna send you someone who isn’t really bad. That’d make me bad.”

“You said you’d send me bad people.” Tasha reminded him with a gentle prod to the side.

“Well… maybe there’s less really bad people in the world than I thought.”

Disapproval. Casper felt it flowing off of Tasha in waves, each surprisingly hurtful, coming from her.

“The world’s full of bad people,” she replied bluntly. “Trust me. What about your dad?”

Casper stopped dead, a note of fear playing sharp in his mind.

“No,” he answered, as firmly as he could, his voice still quavering just a little. “You don’t touch my dad.”

“Why not?” The girl asked, her free hand moving to Casper’s face, sliding a finger along the pale, freckly skin. “You gonna pretend he doesn’t hit you? Why else would you be hiding that shiner, huh?” Tasha’s finger traced along Casper’s face until it found the patch of swollen skin sitting under his left eye, prodding it and coming away dusted with makeup. The boy yelped in pain, pulling away. Tasha gazed at him balefully. “I bet he hits your mom too, huh? So why shouldn’t I hurt him, make him stop?”

The boy gazed at his friend coldly for a few seconds.

“Because he wouldn’t stop.”

The two stared at one another for a long moment, before Casper looked away, a touch regretful.

“I gotta go home,” he muttered. “See you.”

“Yeah,” Tasha answered, her voice and mind echoing the same regret as his. “Later.”

The boy trudged home in silence. He felt cold. Colder than he should have done in the mid-summer evening.

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