I was 7 when I realized what I was capable of. The dreariness of standing alone in that room was blaring down on me. I searched my mind for a way to get out of this. This was a timeout. It was so humiliating. In games timeouts were supposed to be a break, a chance to catch your breath and relax, but how was this a break? I had to stand against the bacheca alone and my legs were starting to feel rubbery. In my opinion this was cruel and unusual punishment, especially because every 5 secondi one of the kids in my classroom would "go to the bathroom". What they really were doing was peeking through the window of Mrs. Daniel's room and sticking their tongues out at me. Then they would take a moment to look at me like a bug under a magnifying glass and sposta on snickering as they walked. What did I do to deserve this? I threw a cicada on Mrs. Belleven's "brand new, sophisticated, white blouse" as she called it. But the thing was, I didn't really throw it. I had out a book about cicadas at recess ( I prefer to read than fall of the broken monkeybars ) and I was in the middle of learning about how they camoflauge themselves when I was so rudely interrupted da a high pitched screech. A bug had landed on Mrs. Belleven's shirt, a big one. Then I recognized it! A cicada! I stood up and reached out to get it but Mrs. Belleven gave me a menacing look and detto "Not so fast, Mister." I was confused. I was getting it for her. "That cicada came flying at me from your direction." She seemed to have forgotten there was a giant bug on her shirt. "And correct me if I'm wrong but cicadas don't come out of nowhere." "That one did" I said, coming off snarkily. And that is why I am in the principal, Mrs. Daniel's, tight room that smells of egg yolk. How had that happened, I asked myself over and over. We don't even have cicadas here, do we? Then an idea came into my head. Maybe I did do it , just in a different way. "Mrs. Daniel, I detto sweetly, "May I please read one of your picture books? " "Quietly", she detto sternly. So I ran over to the book shelf and picked one up about bald eagles. Nothing happened. I read for 5 più minuti and still nothing happened then as I looked down and saw a picture of a bald eagle flying over the Pacific, the window broke. Glass shards flew everywhere. 5 screams. I don't know if one was from me. I opened my eyes and stood up, trying to make sense of what happened and, THERE WAS AN EAGLE ON THE CIELING!!!! This time I know I screamed because I raelized that somehow I had caused this. It flew out the window just as abruptly as it had came in and the rest was a blur. My parents learned all about this incident but what they never learned was that it happened because of their son, and well, stepson. Back then I didn't know who my dad was. Now I sure do. He killed 2 women and me and him were on a desert island with a group of people for almost a year. Even though I don't like to think about that I know if it hadn't happened I would never of learned what my powers were. Now I live with my grandmother but my dad told me what my stepdad had said. He didn't want me, and he was right about me being special, because I am, but so is that island. And I know I'm gonna find it someday.