Acceleration

I know I'm young. My dad likes to tell me that. He likes to say, "Martin, you are a smart kid, but you are young. Smarts don't substitute for experience." I am under the impression that he might be right. I'm 83% sure. But with every day that passes that percentage goes up. Rumors are spreading.

You know how that goes. People talk. They get on one specific subject if it's good enough and the talk grows from there. Most often that talk just fades away.

I don't see that happening. I feel a buzz in the air I've never felt before, and people are scared. The news (God bless them) aren't picking up any obvious stories yet. They've been hinting around that some grizzly incidents are going down around town. There's footage of police taped areas, police knocking down doors. All the victims were dead.

Yet no one is hinting at any kind of rampage, spree killing, or serial murders. I have been able to identify three of the houses over the last week, and each one . . . well. This is the scary part. Each is the home of at least one NexGen. One of those homes had twins. A seven-member family, all dead. We have been spending a lot of time at home. My mom is fearless as can be, she likes us to continue life like normal. Dad's extremely cautious. He wants to pull us until something comes to fruition.

My sister is having issues with that. She's one who needs people. She needs her friends, and the way everyone in school looks at her. She really is pretty. She's not the gorgeous kind of "Oh my gosh" pretty, but she is pretty. I would compare her to a celebrity, but none are cool enough to be my Bethany. None compare.

I'll tell you one thing. I steer clear of the NexGens, and I don't think I'm the only one. Several of them, Scottie, Chuck, Jasmine, Trey, and Marilyn are my classmates. I seem to be diverting more attention than usual, myself. But everyone knows I'm not a NexGen. The look just makes them nervous. Plus I have this really interesting mark on my lower back (no, it's not a tramp stamp). It looks like a miniature Doc Ock stabbed me in the back with one of his mechanical arms. It's pretty cool. One pink spot about the size of a dime surrounded by three points. If I connected the dots the three points would form a perfect triangle.

I know this because Bethany used to connect those dots when we were little. Mom has like a dozen pictures of her doing that. I have one of them tucked away in this journal. I only mention the mark because I've seen it before. Jasmine has the same mark on her hip. It's got me a little worried, but Mom and Dad insist I am their natural baby. I mean, I have my mother's eyes so she can't be lying right?