Protection

“Do not protect yourself by a fence, but rather by your friends” -- Czech Proverb It was noon on a hot August day, and two of my three siblings and I sat in our small orphanage bedroom, in New York City. “Jess, plug in the fan,” ordered Grace, my eleven year old sister. She struggled to turn around in the recliner and pushed me out of the space next to her. I began to object, but my sister’s ocean-blue-eyes practically shot lasers at me. Sighing, I stood and relinquished the overstuffed chair to her. “Thanks,” muttered Grace, settling back into her mane of flowing blue hair, but she wasn’t able to relax for long. Her face was suddenly confronted with our brother’s rear end. He enjoyed the comfortable chair almost as much as Grace did. “Grant! Ugh! Not Funny!” With an enormous heave and not a small amount of water coming out of Grace’s hand, Grant (my ten year old brother who had scrambled on top of Grace) was launched across the room. “Graaa-aaace! Why’d you do that!?” His black eyes flashing, he shook out his shaggy jet-black hair, and once he was relatively dry, sent a good-sized ball of Darkness (his Power) at the wall above our exuberant sister’s head. For good reason, Grant hadn’t risked a full out fight with our older and more powerful sister. An entire year of training at JAP (I didn’t know what this stood for, but I hoped to soon find out) was not something to be trifled with, as Grant well knew. After every summer since they had got their Powers, the two of them left for a day’s trip via bus, after which they traveled to the school. I’d never been there, because I had yet to discover my power, but with any luck, this fall the Clease dorm room at JAP would be the home to one more pupil.