Fear. Anxiety. Gel pens. Jessa Baxter cycled through her most recent thoughts. Friends. Telekinesis. Dread. She glanced at her phone to see a text message from her grandparents. Good luck, Jessamine. They never got to grips with the colloquialism of texting. She noticed a weather update: storms spreading from the west. Umbrella. Jacket. Boots. No—it was too early to try remembering things. She decided to focus first on the most urgent wrongs that needed righting. Emptiness. Hunger. Breakfast.

“Surprise!” Jessa’s family yelled, far too loudly to be appropriate on an early Monday morning. Jessa stood in the doorway in her slippers and dressing gown. She rubbed her eyes and pushed the jumble of frizzy waves away from her face.

“What? What’s going on?” she said. Her mother, father, and older sister Audrey sat around the pine table that lay adorned with the kind of breakfast feast usually reserved in the Baxter house for birthdays. Jessa ogled the bacon sandwiches, cut into small triangles just the way she liked them, and a towering plate of fluffy pancakes—a breakfast treat that the Baxter family had only recently discovered on holiday in America. Mrs Baxter had even brought out her ‘special occasion’ bowl, which she generally deemed too precious (and expensive) to use. But Mrs Baxter couldn’t think of any occasion more special than the day her youngest daughter started at the most prestigious parapsych school in England.

"It's a surprise Fancy Breakfast!" Mrs Baxter clapped her hands together.

"You know how much Mum loves an excuse for Fancy Breakfast," said Audrey.

"Works for me," Jessa grabbed a sandwich and opened up the slices to dowse the bacon in ketchup, then hungrily scoffed the whole thing.

“We wanted to make sure you have a good start on your first day,” said Mr Baxter.

“First day of high school,” Mrs Baxter shook her head wistfully, “I just can't believe how fast you've grown up.”

"Mum, don't get all soppy."

"I can't help it. It's very emotional for a parent to see their youngest child getting older. It just seems like yesterday that we found out you were a parapsych! What an exciting day that was.”

“Remember Jessa's first day at PsychPlay?" said Audrey.

“I’ve never seen such a tantrum," Mr Baxter chuckled through his moustache.

"Can we please not re-live the train-set incident right now?" Jessa said.

"You were such a brat," said Audrey.

"You weren't even there!"

"Girls, girls. No hostility today, please."

"Fine, I'm sorry," said Audrey. "And to your credit, Jessa, you have matured a lot recently."

Jessa said nothing.

"I'm sorry for calling you a brat, all right?"

"All right," Jessa took an abnormally large bite of her sandwich and tiny ketchup blobs collected in the corners of her mouth.

"Maybe I can make it up to you with this,” Audrey said, retrieving a gift from its hiding place under her chair.

"I get presents?" Jessa scrabbled at the impeccably wrapped box, tearing away the shimmering paper. “No way!”

Inside the box were the shoes Jessa had been fawning over for months. She’d never been especially into clothes, but after seeing members of her favourite bands wear them onstage, the blue and red high-tops had been at the top of Jessa’s wish list.

“Thank you, they're amazing!”

"They'd better be amazing," Mr Baxter raised his wiry eyebrows. "Forty pounds for a pair of shoes!"

"Don't be a spoilsport, Daddy," said Audrey.

"They're very loud, though," said Mrs Baxter. “Will they go with many outfits?"

“Well, the lead singer of Since the Future wears them, and the guitarist of Falcon Draft wears them, so yeah, they go with everything.” Jessa pulled up the legs of her pyjamas to more efficiently put on the shoes.

“I’m not quite sure what that means,” said Mrs Baxter.

“Mum, they’re two completely different genres,” Jessa replied.

"Well, I'm glad you like them," Audrey smiled.

“I do, thank you,” Jessa replied. “But wait, why are you still here? Don’t you have classes on Mondays?”

"I told them I'd be late today so I could have breakfast at home. I’m so busy these days; I feel like I barely see all of you.”

Jessa was too busy admiring the shoes to hear Audrey’s response.

Mr Baxter pulled out something from a deep fleecy pocket of his dressing gown. “This is from your mum and me.”

Jessa quietly opened the lid, to reveal a white gold pendant. It was a flat disc, with a smaller circle inscribed into the centre. Jessa’s fingers gently turned over the charm. On the other side were three wavy lines.

“Oh,” she said. “It’s very pretty. But what is it?”

“I found it in Norway," Mrs Baxter said. "When I went over there to work at that big conference, I went to this little parapsych folklore shop in Oslo. The lady who owned the shop told me about her daughter, who’s a telepath. Anyway, I mentioned that you’ll be a telekinetic, so she showed me these pendants. Apparently, the waves are an ancient Scandinavian symbol for telekinetic powers, dating way back before humans really even knew what parapsych abilities were. She said the circle is a modern addition, and is meant to symbolise that, regardless of your powers, you are whole and beautiful.”

Jessa removed the pendant from the box.

“Do you like it?” asked her father.

“I love it,” she smiled.

Jessa held up her mess of bedhead hair so her mother could fasten the necklace clasp.

“And as we’re feeling generous, we have a little something for Audrey, too.” Mr Baxter handed a small box to his oldest daughter.

Mrs Baxter moved away from Jessa to rest her hands on Audrey’s shoulders.

"Why does Audrey get a present? It's not her first day."

"We just like to spoil our girls sometimes, that's all."

“Oh my goodness, it’s a Sheaffer,” Audrey cooed.

“How exciting,” Jessa muttered, “a pen.”

"It's a Sheaffer fountain pen," Audrey corrected.

“That’s what I said. A pen. Great," Jessa rolled her eyes.

“And it’s engraved, look,” Mrs Baxter pointed out the delicate calligraphy on the shaft.

“We know it’s not your first day of university or anything, but it is a new term in your PhD, so we thought you deserved a little present too, just to show how proud of you we are.”

“Thank you, Mum. Thank you, Daddy,” Audrey kissed her parents.

“We’re so proud of both of you. Our beautiful, intelligent girls,” Mrs Baxter took her seat again and poured her daily bowl of Fit Flakes. “Oh, and I just remembered! You’ll never guess what I heard about the people down at number 94.”

Jessa tuned out of the conversation, choosing not to pay attention to her mother’s neighbourhood gossip. She ketchuped another bacon sandwich and munched away, watching her parents and sister engage in idle chatter. She reached her hand into the fruit bowl to grab a particularly plump and juicy-looking pineapple chunk.

“Jessa, please,” Mrs Baxter interjected, “not with your fingers. That’s what the spoon is for. So anyway, the other man was appalled, of course…” Mrs Baxter continued her story.

"I guess we're done celebrating my big day, then,” Jessa murmured.

"Jessa, please don't interrupt while I'm talking to your father."

Jessa left the table with a loud huff, stomping up the stairs in her new shoes.

“What’s up with her?”, said Mr Baxter.

“Hormones, probably,” Mrs Baxter dismissed. “So anyway, you won’t believe what they did next…”