The Morning My Hand Started Glowing

I woke up to find my hand glowing blue, and every tiny experiment made the powers stranger.

The day began so normally that I almost trusted it.

The alarm clock blasted, sunlight leaked through the curtains, and I lay there pretending I could somehow become invisible to Monday by not moving.

Then I lifted my hand to rub my eyes and stopped dead.

My palm was glowing.

Not a bright superhero spotlight glow. A soft blue shimmer, like moonlight had got stuck under my skin.

I stared at it. The glow stared back. My fingers twitched, and my notebook on the desk gave a tiny wobble. I froze.

I tried again, just a little.

The notebook floated into the air.

"Nope," I whispered, because that seemed like a sensible first word for discovering you might be magical.

I bolted upright. Bad idea. My feet left the bed, and I bobbed in the air for a second like a confused balloon before dropping back down with a thump.

My heart hammered so hard I could hear it.

Carefully, I pointed at my pencil. It scooted across the desk as if an invisible hand had grabbed it. I blinked. The pencil kept moving. I snatched it out of the air, then nearly yelped when the bedroom door swung open all by itself.

I did that.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I still looked like me, except my eyes were flashing with that same strange blue light, on and off, on and off, like something inside them was trying to send a message.

I swallowed and tried one last experiment.

I focused on the book on the shelf. It lifted, drifted down, and landed neatly in my hands.

"Amazing," I breathed.

A second later, there was a knock at the door.

"Get up or you'll be late for school!" Mum called.

I spun around so fast the book slipped from my fingers, and this time it didn't fall.

It hung there in the air between us, glowing brighter than before.