start of a fantasy

I sat at the front table of a famous restaurant with my mom, who doesn’t seem to understand when to stop talking. 

“Like I said, I will have you attend Middlegin School after next year. Registration will start in a few months,” my mother said, but my mind was miles away. I passively listen while she spoke as I flipped through the dinner menu. People occupied all the tables inside the restaurant that night. 

“Sarah, didn’t you hear what I said,” she repeated tapping near my menu.

I raised my eyes off the table. “Yes, mom. I heard but—”

“No buts. You will go. It’s the best school around here.”

“I don’t care if it’s…” I said, then noticed her head turn into a volcano with only minutes away from erupting.

Her eyes widened at me, and I regretted what I had said immediately. Instead of helping, I quickened the process of the volcano erupting. “I said you will go, you will go! My only child cannot fall to low standards.”

“Excuse me,” the waiter said, interrupting my mom. I let out a sigh, pleased the waiter had come to the rescue and stopping my mom from making a scene inside the restaurant. “What can I bring you this evening?” his pen and notepad in hand.

My mom ordered first, then I followed. He scribbled a few words on his notepad, collected the menus, then left. I wished he would stay longer, so I didn’t have to hear my mom’s lecturing. 

“You’ll be taught in the best manner and everyone will respect you when you reach college,” she said, then turned her eyes to the side. “It’ll cost a lot of money…” she looked back at me, and I slightly lowered my eyes. “That’s something I’m willing to pay anything for.”

Save that money and let me go to a public school, I thought, but wouldn’t dare tell her. 

“Your dad would be proud if he was still here,” she said, but didn’t look sad. Expressing emotion wasn’t something she was great at. All these years, I thought my dad left her becaue of this issue but I could never put togther why he left me. It didn’t add up. Like I understand if he left her, but why me? 

She babbled about things I had no care about. I continued to keep my eyes on the table and tried to listen the songs restaurant played in the background—saying, “Yes” to each time she asked if I was listening. Sometimes she would ask me to lift my eyes and I’d do what she said. 

“Here’s your chicken sandwich with a side of mozzarella sticks,” I waiter placed two plates in front of me. “And your burger without onions and a plate of salad,” he placed the other two plates he had in front of my mom. He glanced around our table—probably thinking if he placed everything—then said, “Enjoy your dinner.” 

“Hey, I forgot to ask you something,” she called the waiter, as he began walking away.

The waiter returned, and she gestured for him to lower down. My eyes narrowed on her. She whispered words I couldn’t hear, but I sensed it was something about me when the waiter turned to me and smiled. 

He straightened his back and asked my mom, “How many years?”

“Fourteen,” she said, without attempting to whisper it. 

I knew exactly what she told him. She most likely asked him for a cake or something to celebrate my birthday dinner. 

Even with the food on the table, she continued spilling sentences from her mouth, despite her mouth filled with food. I, on the other hand, finished my dinner as quickly as possible. My stomach filled to the brim felt as if all the food would soon be out my mouth. My mind became clouded. 

“I… go… bathroom,” I said, pushing off from my chair. It must be something I ate, I thought. My mom said something, but I only noticed her lips moving—all the noise inside the restaurant seemed to mix together into one combined sound. 

No clear words registered inside my head, as if all the words combined into a super-word. While I wobbled my way to the bathroom, I bumped into a few tables. I said sorry but unsure if it came out correctly. My head heated up and my brain boiled inside and bobbled like a bobble head.

I reached the unisex bathroom, but the door was locked. The door handle wouldn’t turn for me, so I rested on the wall opposite the door and waited for the person to leave. My eyes wanted to give in on me, so I held them open with my sweaty hands.

A young child left the bathroom moments later. I knew the child was young because he or she didn’t pass my height, but I didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl. The person jumped up once they saw me and ran away as if I was some sort of creature. Following the light inside the bathroom, I got inside and closed the door behind me. 

My first guess was to head to the toilet, but my stomach wasn’t the problem anymore. The problem remained inside my head and eyes. I splashed lukewarm water on my face, which did the trick. It comforted my eyes and my head no longer boiled. 

“Woah,” I said, seeing myself in the mirror. I shot back a few steps away from the sink and mirror. My eyes had turned a deep orange color. How could my eyes that were brown since I could remember turned orange? Orange eyes don’t exist, I thought. Moving closer to the mirror, I checked again, making sure I wasn’t seeing things.

“Yup. They’re orange all right,” I said, realizing I felt a lot better. My body went back to normal. 

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“One second,” I said, washing my hands, which I noticed also looked different.

A large hole filled my palms, but I turned my hand I could see the back of my hand, without a hole. I pointed my hand at the toilet and without saying a word, a lighting strike left my palm and went directly towards the toilet, causing a loud bang. I jumped away, confused to what had happened.