Living on the streets is hard enough as it is, but being thirteen and on the streets is even harder.

Plus being on the streets of DC, where fancy hotels tower over your head and the smell of expensive food flows from their doors, makes it even more hard. Most of the museums here are free but it just brings you down even more when you see riches right in your gaze while you are wearing your only pair of jeans and you have holes in your shirt. That still doesn't keep me from entering. My favorite is the American History museum. Three floors of movie memorabilia and president's clothes. I remember watching the Wizard of Oz as a child. I would sit on the floor in front of the TV while my mother would rewind the VHS from the last time I watched it, usually moments earlier. My brother, still too young and fragile to walk, would roll around on the floor beside me trying his best to get his toes into his mouth. I miss my folks but I had to go. When I was almost ten my brother, who was six, was diagnosed with cancer. My folks didn't have enough money to pay for his medical bill so I left them a note saying that I was leaving and to use the money that they would've used on me to pay the fund and make my brother healthy. I left our home in Virginia and walked towards the lights of the city, crossing a bridge over the Potamic river. I walked for miles until I came to rest on the corner of a building near capital hill. The few years after where tough, I ripped down every missing person poster I saw. I didn't want to be found, I couldn't be found, my brother's life could depend on my absence. I told anyone who asked that my name was James, trying to forget my past, name and life. After about two years, after my twelfth birthday, the search was lifted. My family had finally given up. The night air was extremely cold outside of Union Station. I sat, huddled against the stone wall of the station's exterior. The wall still grasped some of the day's warmth and it bestowed it upon my shivering back, graciously. My backpack lay by my feet, seemingly smaller since I had taken my blanket out of it. I had just finished off a cold can of soup and had used the rain falling off of the ceiling to cleanse it. I had it sitting by my freezing feet, and every once in a while someone would spare a quarter or two to put it in. Begging is really hard when you aren't gifted in anything. Well, one would say that I am gifted but I see it more as a curse that I have learned to subdue over the thirteen years of my pitiful life. No one knows of my abilities but me and a very close friend, although she has never seen them in action, I learned long ago that if you were different in any way you were and outcast to everyone else, you were weird, and had no one but yourself. There is no one on this planet you can trust more than yourself. The familiar sound of high heeled shoes fills the air. The sound of the footsteps are remarkably recognizable to anyone who has ever encountered them before. Kennedy Smith, the daughter of a beautiful blonde woman, who worked as an accountant outside of the city, and a very successful business man. Let's just say her parents could literally bathe in money if they wanted. She rounded the corner, holding a bag. Our eyes met and she quickened her pace, half running towards me. The bag in her hand was more clear now that she closed in on me. A half naked man posed on the front. “Nice bag.” I called out to her figure, hurrying to get out of the rain. “Thanks, it's for you James.” She says, pulling off the hood of her coat revealing her long blonde curls. “Thanks but no thanks.” “It is a birthday present,” she smiled, tossing the bag to the ground beside of him. Tomorrow is my birthday. I had completely forgotten. It would mark four years on my own, and fourteen years of my life. I grabbed the bag and pulled its contents out. A navy Hollister sweatshirt and a new pair of jeans. Kennedy bent down to the ground, crawling under my blanket with me. She nuzzled up under my arm, resting her head on my shoulder.

Kennedy and her parents walked out of the restaurant I was siting by. fifteen feet above the top of the tall bedposts. that matched the bed. Jack. I learned to be distant from many but she broke that wall down as soon as she passed me the first time three years ago. touching the plastic orange bloom behind her ear.” she says. I slept a lot easier that night. then my vision went dark. I was too exhausted to say anything. “I know but--” she pauses.” “Thanks. “Can you.” I smile. I was dressed in yellow silk pajamas. and I sat on the side of a building hungry.There she drifted off to sleep. She peeks her head in.” I could think of a list of words that would describe my situation but perfect would not be there. I woke up in a cushy bed. From the big double doors on the wall to the right of my bed the young girl. her favorite shampoo scent. now get home. After I plant a peck onto the back of it I cup it between both of my hands. With the blink of my eyes the funnel turns back to a puddle that I let slip through my fingers. “You're awake!” She exclaimed. before jolting her awake gently. “this is so perfect.” “Oh crap! They're going to be worried sick. “I told them that I was going shopping with friends. This had to be one of the best birthdays that I've ever had. sleepless. “I'll be here in the morning. She removes her hand from mine and places it on my cheek. “but you are okay now!” She sat there and we talked for hours. taking in the scent of strawberries. her beautiful blue-green eyes sparkling in the rain. With nothing but a quick thought and a sideways glance a fake flower flies out of my bag and situates itself behind her ear. Although. I take my gaze off of her and stare into the rain. pushes through. I stared at the ceiling.” “It's almost midnight. She turns to leave but quickly turns back around. She started to stand but quickly sat back down. holding my hand out. I am almost positive that I was on the verge of dying. Kennedy's visits always make everything I've been through worth it. “ I don't want to leave you though. She stands on the tips of her toes and places her soft lips on my cheek. from the family that I saw on the street. “What can I say.” I spoke. Bookshelves covered the pale yellow wallpaper on two of the four walls. I was born a telekinetic. uh. That is the closest I've ever been to someone. she put her hand onto my forehead. after standing myself. but her mood quickly changed. That night changed my life forever. “Happy birthday. placing my chin on the top of her head. helping her to her feet. A few dozen drops swarm to my hand like it's a magnet.” She says. and cold. “No. but I did stretch out my cracking hands towards them. she was right.” I laugh. I bring her hand up to my lips. kissing the delicate skin. it had been a year since I left home. fully waking up. and sitting on a stool that I hadn't even noticed was there. “I am home. “How the hell do you do stuff like that?” She asks.” She looks up to my face. taking her hand into mine. I look to Kennedy. It was a . “Just for this one time I will. her eyes wide with amazement.“You're not sick anymore!” “What happened after I blacked out?” “My parents took you here and bathed you. they swirl up from my palm creating a very small water spout. traveling across the surface of my hand. She even read me a book from one of the bookshelves.” I laugh. I looked over and kissed her forehead.” I reply.” she looked concerned at this. of course not. The last thing I remembered was them turning their heads to gaze upon my pitiful figure. my scrawny frame sinking into the mattress. My father gave you some medicine from the cabinet in the bathroom and told us you needed to rest. I let her rest for a while. “Do your parents know where you are?” I asked as her eyes fluttered open. “You need to go home. do a trick before I go?” she stutters nervously. It had been the roughest thing I had ever imagined going through. rushing to the side of my bed.” she whines. taking in the perfect features of her face.

” I laughed.. “I wish I could do this. She hadn't expected that when she entered.” she said pointing to an illustration almost half way through the book. a green book bag flung out. to the amazement of the girl in her pretty blue gown.” I said grabbing for the book.. “Does it work on me?” she asked. I sat on the sidewalk in front of the house. While the woman was dragging me out of the house Kennedy managed to thrust something into my hand before I was thrown out of the front door. laughing. and she was scared for her and her child's safety. Kennedy Smith I still have that note in the side pocket of the same green book bag. Until next time. I read it every once in a while. screaming. and a folded up piece of notebook paper. falling onto the foot of my bed. Kennedy's long blonde hair billowed out behind her as she circled the room from above. pretending I was directing some wild concert. She floated up towards the ceiling. In it there is a few changes of clothes. In the bag there was two changes of clothes. I remember waving my hands like a composer. her eyes wide. landing a few feet away from my feet. not knowing what to do or where to go. adverting her gaze from the books. fixing my eyes upon her face. She flew amongst the books. I could hear Kennedy and the woman arguing. “We'll find out. she gets like this sometimes. “Well. from the way she held her arms and hands. a blanket. They danced in the air above us. clapping her hands. and some money. All of the books dropped to the floor and Kennedy fell from the ceiling. I will bring more supplies when we meet again. Their glass doors flew open and the books all flew out. I have packed this bag for you. “I love magic tricks!” she yelled. get a load of this. She seemed to be the one controlling their flight paths. Meet me outside of Union Station every Saturday evening starting next week. I never even got your name. let me see. Her mother grabbed me and pulled me away from her daughter. an army of books swarmed around her. The picture depicted an ugly green witch. “Want to see a magic trick?” I asked. The note said: Dear Boy. The loud sound of the door being thrown open distracts me. mine's Kennedy. On the paper there was a hand written note. money. smiling. a blanket. It should be enough to last you a good while. After a few moments of that the front door flew open.great story of magic and bravery. one after the other. flapping her arms like a bird does his wings. I am sorry about my mother. “Hey. risking her relationship with them just .” I trained my gaze on the bookshelves. Kennedy has provided so much for me behind her parent's back. The mother ran in screaming at the sight she saw.

blocking my way. An older lady stood a few yards away. “What the hell!” He yelled. already dissipating. running into Union Station. hiding her face from view as she tried to study the small roads. The man's finger slowly tightened onto the trigger. After cocking it he pointed it straight at my head. The sound of sirens belted through the air. I jumped to my feet. blocking my exit with her outstretched hand. He fired the gun. Just before reaching my forehead the bullet stopped in it's track. From he bag she pulled a map of the city out. and sunglasses. swinging it onto my back. trying to turn her head to look me in the eyes. The cloud of smoke and light bursting forth from the gun as it recoiled. He was wearing a black shirt. My eyes followed the bullet over its short course. pulling up the hood. my birthday. I turned to someone's hand pushing against my chest. but I had a feeling that his eyes were gazing upon the giant travel bag hanging on the old woman's fragile arms. “Sir. Looking away from the woman. and threw him through the glass doors into Union Station. began just as it usually does. The sun just began to rise over Capitol Hill. aiming to my forehead.” I spat. they began to push through the crowds. as fast as her fragile legs would allow. tackling him onto the ground. A crowd surrounded the area in front of the station. he moved the gun about slowly. falling to the ground. black jeans. I trained my eyes upon his finger on the trigger and the end of the short barrel. right towards the woman. My signal to go. She was imposing on her blue uniform and the hat barely fit over her wild. The seconds after seemed to happen in slow motion. laughing as I tried to catch my breath. “Police!” the old woman called. “Damn. He took off running. we'll have to take you in and ask you a few questi--” she started but before she could finish she flew back into the crowd. Before the man could fire another one I picked him up. leaving a trail in the small. I saw his crazed expression past the front of the gun. The police had been called. I quickly threw my belongings into my bag. the pain in my back from sleeping on the ground throbbed. A portly blonde woman stood in front of me. The morning air was almost as cold as the night air. a great pain in my chest from my freshly broken ribs. He reached into is jacket. Right as he neared the woman and held out his hand to grab the back I ran into him. I woke up. I was no match for the man and he quickly threw me off of him. I sat up. so I took my birthday present and slid it over my shirt. As soon as I saw him start running I jumped out of the blanket and ran to meet him. my cue to look back at the the end of the gun. shoulder length.to make my life easier. pulling out a small handgun. alternating between the two. and cleared my mind. I heard some of my ribs crack as all of the air in my body left. hair. jumping over the lady and the people she made fall. using my telekinesis.” I mumble turning to face her. He jumped to his feet. making me squint my eyes. “Excuse me sir?” she asked. blocking the flashing lights from the road behind. what was left of it. I tried to crawl backwards but her just walked along. My head felt like it would explode before the bullet could even reach it. she looked lost. She unfolded it. setting the sharp pain in my chest to the side. My escape was shut short by two parked police cars. cloud of smoke. He stood there over me. “I'm sorry about this. clutching her travel bag close to her bent chest. She must have just arrived from on the Amtrak. Breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth. I slowed my breathing. under my breath. From behind the dark glasses one couldn't have saw where he was looking. knocking a few people down. Her white hair was tied in a pink bandanna. From across the way there stood an interesting man. I ran towards the break in the crowd. hood to hood. I finally had a second to acknowledge my surroundings once more. standing over top of me. a leather jacket. not able to be held back by the crown. The bullet exiting. stomping his foot onto my chest. The next day. Two men stood behind either .

The hall opened up and I took a left. rushing down a short hallway with elevators on either wall. checking for a pulse. some on foot and some driving. Her hand covered her mouth.hood. then I ran for the mall. When only a few yards away the glass shattered under the weight of my abilities and I leaped right through the empty frame. I stared at the two hoods. trying to lose them. tears streamed down her face. Shards of glass lay all about them. The policewoman had her fingers on the neck of the man. their guns pointing to me. The face that went along with them was scrunched up in pain. I couldn't let them take me. to the front of the museum. The inside of my head shook. I traveled this way until I passed the Capitol Building. clearing my mind. I can't feel a pulse!” I heard a woman's voice call from behind. Kennedy lifted her head. I slowed my breath. throwing my hands into the air in defeat. From the corner of my eye I saw familiar blonde curls. his voice more serious now. I had killed a man. I crossed the street. from the car closest to the right. I pushed through the metal detector. “Put your hands behind your back!” the man yelled. The tires of the cars slid sideways slowly. sobbing. Police followed behind me. already training my eyes on the glass door. The American History Museum came up to my right. I ran straight down the mall. it felt as if it would explode once more. by the end of the mall. Another brunette woman crouched by the man on the floor inside the station. looking my way behind a veil of tears. running towards the crowd of people surrounding the ruby slippers display. in the direction of the Washington Monument. crossing the street. A pool of blood spread from his body. “Stay where you are!” The African American man. “I'm so sorry. My life was bad off as it is. The cars quickly flung backwards. I ran to the right. from where I threw him through the pane of one of the glass doors. warm tears forming under my eyes. She collapsed to the ground.” I mouthed. creating marks on the road. I released a puff of breath. I turned and ran. taking the policemen with them. I lost my breath once more. I winded through allies and cars. “Call an ambulance. I stop where I am. .

Master your semester with Scribd & The New York Times

Special offer for students: Only $4.99/month.

Master your semester with Scribd & The New York Times

Cancel anytime.