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“I guess we’ll see.” I glanced as the clock, which was ticking away at ten minutes to the bell.

Cameron laughed softly, “I can’t believe you’re worried about your essay grade when we just discovered that we have powers,” she said this in a hushed voice. “Andrew said that there’s no telling how much we can do with them. Even he and Charlotte don’t know a lot about it.”

I cupped my chin in my hands, half-listening to Mrs. Eacker chatter about the logistics of essay writing. “Yeah, well, I’m one point away from an A, so…” I shut my mouth. Mrs. Eacker had finished with her discussion and was now making for the stack of essays. Everyone in the room sat up straighter, eyes intent.

I glanced to my left. Even Cameron watched Mrs. Eacker begin to pass out papers intensely. I flicked my eyes back to Mrs. Eacker, who was only one row away. I clenched my fists against my thighs. Please, please. I thought. I want an A, a high A, preferably, but a 95 could raise my grade too. Please…

Mrs. Eacker was at my desk. She reached for the paper, my paper. She was slow, too slow. The lights in the room flickered, but I didn’t notice. I was waiting.

The paper plopped onto my desk, and as Mrs. Eacker moved on, I snatched it up eagerly in my hands. My ears buzzed with excitement. I looked down at my essay. In Mrs. Eacker’s sprawling handwriting was 95%. Yes!

The adrenaline stored in my system went nuts. That’s when there was an audible crackle. Then the lights went out at once. Several girls screamed, and someone, probably Ethan, the class clown, yelled, “Holy shit!”

We waited, but the lights did not come back on. A think trickle of sun fell on the back of the classroom from the lone window that neither opened nor let in sufficient light. As Mrs. Eacker sent someone out to find the janitor, I felt Cameron’s eyes on me. I flushed slightly. First the teacher’s lounge, then this? I sighed. At least I had an A in English….

Mrs. Eacker quickly and efficiently calmed the class down. She led us out into the hallway where she distributed the rest of the essays and let us chat quietly amongst ourselves. However, we generally failed at keeping our voices down, and the last five minutes of class became a very loud sharing of essay grades. The neighboring teachers gave us dirty looks before slamming the doors of their own, light filled classrooms.

Mrs. Eacker just shook her head and began to read.

Fortunately, that meant that everyone was too busy to pay attention to our discussion.

“Hey, I got an A,” I said weakly, holding up my paper for Cameron to see.

She grinned at me. “Nice.”

“What did you get?”

She shrugged, holding up her own essay, “88.”

“Ah.”

“But that’s not the point!” She glanced over her shoulder to make sure that no one was listening. No one was. “I’m really glad you’re having your training in a few minutes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I gave her a look.

Cameron sighed, “no offense, but apparently you’re kind of like electricity girl, and if you can’t control your powers…what if next time it’s not just randomly affecting the lights? What if it’s during a lightning storm, and you call the electricity to someone? Or you shock someone from a plug.”

“Fine, fine, I get it,” I grumbled, not really upset. “I’m dangerous.” Cameron looked apologetic. I shrugged. “I’m just glad that we have Andrew and Charlotte to help us. They probably had to figure this out themselves. Did you ever ask them how they did it?”