'Special' - Chapter 1

(Warning- Teen Language, don't like don't read))

In this world… everyone has a 'special'. A 'special' can be an extreme talent, a mutation, an inhuman power, anything! It can be a 'special'. It has never been heard of that a person of the henai, 'the new people', didn't have a 'special', even if they were a late-bloomer.

And that's a damn lie.

"I give, I give!" I pleaded as my instructor twisted my arm around my back for the tenth time that day. No, literally, my arm was actually starting to bruise from his inhumane attacks.

He growled, bear ears twitching as well, "Maybe you just don't have a fighting 'special'."

I froze up, "C'mon, one more time! And besides, you're a fuckin' bear!"

Mr. V and I got into a stance again and he growled. He's going for a low sweep. I jumped and, instead, got a face-full of hairy knuckles.
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"Can joo realleh blam meh? I'm geht-tin' desp-rat!" translated directly from the Broken-Nose dialect, I said 'Can you really blame me? I'm getting desperate!'

Allen just applied more pressure to the gauze around my nose, "You should really just let your special come to you. Meditate! Become Buddha! Just don't get hurt anymore!" He whined, dragging out 'anymore'.

"Says da dag who jast loves chasin' 'is ex up ah tree." ('Says the dog who just loves chasing his ex up a tree.')

He scowled half-heartedly, "My business is not your business. There, you're all patched up now."

I said my thanks and left the bathroom where bro was packing up the last of the first-aid kit. The kitchen was fraught with my uncle's laughter after I told him how I broke my nose. "You seriously need to get over the fact your 'special' hasn't shown it self in the… past… seventeen years!" He rocketed into a fresh spasm of laughter.

And this was funny because even late-bloomers find their 'special' by the time they're thirteen-fourteen-ish.

"Aye 'ate joo all," ('I hate you all') I exclaimed, clearing out of the house.

"Love ya too, Amy!" I faintly heard my uncle call out from the screen door.

I really do hate them. Uncle Dan was no better than those other people at school. I do have a 'special'! And I will make it come out if it's the last thing I do! I push open the door to the Laundromat that was 'bout four so blocks to my house. Best way to wake up my 'special', I figured, was to take lessons or whatever. The 'Help Wanted' ads didn't hurt a look-over either.

"Oh look, it's the 'special snowflake'!" Harold, a large guy with a 'special' for learning (talk about irony), laughed. He jostled some of the other guys with him, they looked over a little nervous. I just barely heard them.

Huh, Ms. Carredio needed raking services. Damn, only guitar lesson again. The slip tore nicely from the flier and I turned to leave. I went over to the convenience store that was in the same shopping center. Allen would want a sprite and a hoagie, so would Dan but with more jalapeños and a beer. Oh good, Carrie's at the register today.
Now…

A teasing jab in the back of my head jarred my thought train, "Yo, Amelia."

"'ey Marcus," Marcus Williams was a friend of mine that had a 'special' for machines and engineering. The 'special snowflake' started from him, though more in a friendly way. Everyone else caught on and it became a bit more… malicious. I walked over to that ordering station for two hoagies. The holographic screens sounded a sort dink everytime I pressed a key

"So how'd karate go," his voice pitched at 'go'. Finally noticed the first-aid? "I shouldn't ask."

"Smart," The receipt was fed out of the machine, Number 29 and 30, 'kay.

Marcus twisted open the cap to his soda, taking a sip. I plucked a pepsi from the fridge along with a sprite. It was obvious he wanted to tell me something, but he wasn't much of a talker, neither was I. Thus, a glorious friendship was made.

"...Ever heard of the Challenge?" He asked.