“90… 100.” mr. Smith smiled at Harry “Here you go, lad. Thank you for your help.” he laughed sightly touching his arm; till the other day there was a chalk around that arm, making impossible to work for the old man. It had been a real fluke for Harry when mr. Smith asked to help him in the shop for a month, just the time for the arm to heal and all. Mr. Smith owned a little food store just in front of the ocean; being the only one working there it was impossible for him to keep it in order with a broken arm. Harry was always looking for those kind of odd jobs, mr. Smith knew it very well so it was natural for him to ask immediately at Harry. In the end he liked the boy, even if Harry was in that city from not even a couple of months.
“Thanks to you, mr. Smith.” Harry smiled at the man “Whenever you want.” he laughed sightly and turned, ready to return to that hole that he was calling home since he had arrived there. Lowering his look on the dollars, Harry couldn’t help but sigh sightly: those money should be enough to pay only a part of the rent.
“Nice tattoo by the way...” mr. Smith’s voice suddenly broke Harry’s thoughts, making him turn again in his direction “What?” he asked, blinking absently. He surely looked like an idiot.
“The tattoo.” mr. Smith laughed sightly at his expression “They’re nice… I haven’t noticed them before.” he laughed again “See you around lad... ” he waved his hand to Harry and left him alone, disappearing into the night. Harry kept his eyes on him till he was out of his gaze, only at that point he got out of his trance and started walking in the opposite direction. As he walked, Harry moved an hand to touch his ‘tattoo’: it extended from the upper part of hisback to his shoulders, forming a some kind of geometric interlacing.
Harry couldn’t help but smile, those marks -everyone else’s ‘tattoo’- were with him since the day he was born and they made him different, they made him special. Because those marks were wings. Light, thin, insectoid-like wings. Wings that he could use whenever he wanted. Even in that moment. Yeah, why walk home when he could fly?
Harry laughed sightly to himself as he slowed his walk -it was still something so new to him that sometime he even forgot about his own power- turning around to see if somebody was around.
“Nobody…” he whispered as he took off his T-shirt - he had broken too much T-shirts- and opened his wings. A mental countdown and Harry was already flying over the city, trying to not get lost up there.
He was watching the streets under him when suddenly a leaflet flew right into his face, making him fall heavily on the nearest roof of an apartment building.
“What the…” Harry snorted as he woke up, touching gently his scraped elbow. The little leaflet was near him, laying on the ground. Angrily he picked it up, ready to throw it away when the big title caught immediately his attention.
“Elite World Training Center for Gifted Talents...” he read in a low tone. What was that?
