People have underestimated me all my life.
The memory of my first day at school was of standing under some big Sixth Class guy, his face stony and cold. He'd started on me, for the record. Had called me small. What an idiot. He had no idea what my measley, five-year-old body contained. Enough rage and destructive potential to take down entire cities.
Of course, opportunities for taking down cities are very rare for little kids. Even more so for teenagers that look like little kids, ie. me. Instead of shying away from you - which would be wise - people go all mushy over you. And to make it worse, I wasn't the Justin Timberlake kind of cute. Think more like fluffy kittens. And Elmo.
The other kids learned after a few years to be afraid of me, and to stay away. So I spent my childhood alone, cutting up worms and watching their wriggling bodies curl up and writhe and eventually stop moving.
I thought over all of this on the plane. I could have looked out the window, but I didn't. I had no interest in scenery. How could I care what was under me, when I knew what was ahead of me? Ever since the plane took off two hours ago, my stomach had been tying itself into knots; I just wanted this damn flying tube to land wherever it was taking, and for my new life to begin.
The life I knew I was born for. The life I had been waiting for.