AN: this is my second time posting this, to space it out. again, if by chance i'm on author alert for anyone, so sorry!!! reviews are like J, they're soo easy!! haha, just kidding! i own Supernatural? let's don't...think so...NO!

She always said I was special, mi abuelita, but I never understood exactly how special. The problem is, when you tell this to a 12-year-old with a thirst to prove herself to the chicos blancos on the playground, she usually gets mud thrown in her face and told to "go shovel some dirt, ya mex-i-can't!" No, it wasn't the fondest memory of my childhood. I forgive them, though; I was being estupido.

I came to the United States after my parents died in a fire. I can't remember it, don't bother asking. Sometimes, I feel like I can remember it, but then it slips away. I came to my mother's sister, Tia Pilar. She and her husband had come to find work, and by the grace of Dios, a wealthy family in Los Angeles needed a maid and a gardener. My aunt and uncle, Josef, had become those people. They made enough money for Abuelita to come to America, to get better health care, but my parents refused to leave. I was told they were too proud to come, that they wanted to stay where their heritage was real, in La Cuidad de Mexico. That is all I know of my parents, aside that I "look just like them!" Urgh. I hate when people say that. If I look so much alike, wouldn't that be obvious? I mean, seriously, its like they question whether Mi Madre was banging the gardener! Yes, I know American phrases, I'm not literature's idiot Mexican. I speak near perfect English, considering i've been here all of my known life. Spanish comes out as an afterthought, something natural. Abuelita speaks it all the time. So after my parents died, I came to live with Pilar, Josef, and Abuelita. Two years after I arrived, Esperanza was born, their first child. She was their little "hope", their solid proof that life in America worked. Ricardo was born 3 years later, when I entered high school. He is the cutest little boy ever, I wish my children will someday be as happy, as bright, and as beautiful as he.

I graduated from high school a year ago. Most of the girls in my school went off to college, or got jobs, even a few went to Hollywood, in the pursuit of dreams. I stayed at home. Abuelita was finally meeting her end, the arthritis in her hands spreading to the rest of her small body. With Pilar and Josef working, and Esperanza and Rich off at school, no one was left to care for her, except for me. Don't get me wrong, I love Abuelita with all my heart, I just wish...sometimes I have this vision, this dream, of me standing on top of the world, powerful, happy, and completely at ease. I dream of my job, to be a powerful partner in a huge law firm, my name in the title: Carrington, Carrington, and Consuelos. I would be working along two men, who had married wonderful women who didn't care about my race. We would all be friends, me, my husband (who remains faceless), the two brothers and their wives. The boys would have poker nights, while us girls went out, shopped and laughed together. Yeah, imagination's a bitch, isn't it? I'll never have that. My high school grades were all A+, but no University would pay for me. I hadn't bothered looking. I knew Abuelita needed me.

Funny thing is though, things are beginning to happen to me. Once, when Esperanza's terrible music was bothering my studying, i yelled for her to keep it down.

"No!" She yelled back over the annoying beats of Kanye East, or something like that. "This is my house! You can't tell me what to do!" Yeah, she's annoying. She is that kind of girl that gives us Hispanics a bad name, you know the ones. And she was only 13 then. The strangest thing happened next though. I was mad at her, got so frustrated because I really needed to concentrate on the homework, when all of a sudden, there was this huge sound, and the music died instantly. "Dammit!" She shrieked, "Mama! Something just broke in this lame-ass boom-box you got me! I can't do anything without my music!" And the arguing began. Pilar started yelling at Esse, Esse started shrieking back. Urgh. But that wasn't what shook me. The popping of the boom-box had happened right as my anger reached a climax, and after, my head ached and I felt like I had run a mile. Even with all the screaming, I fell asleep within 20 minutes. And that wasn't the only occurrence. While watching little Richardo, he dropped his sippy-cup from his high chair. I yelled, "NO!" and thrust out a hand, even though i was across the kitchen. Instead of falling to the ground and splattering all over the floor, it floated to the ground! Floated! and didn't spill a drop. Again, i was so tired afterwards, i felt like i hadn't slept in days. Thankfully, Pilar came home from work a while after, so I laid down and slept through the night. And these incidents began to increase through Senior year. Abuelita knew more than she suggested, i guess.

I could only guess what it was, guess from the American TV that i watched. I was una telepatica, a telepath. So I learned how to control my gift. I started out by floating small things to me. It took all of my strength to move a pencil from my desk to where i sat on my bed, not 3 feet away. But i progressed. Over the last semester of high school, I honed my talent to where I could open the refrigerator, float a head of lettuce to myself at the sink, and wash the head all without my hands. Dios Mio, after 3 months of even more training, could chop the lettuce too! Of course, by that time, I made the finest salads this side of the La Brea tar pits, but at least I knew my family was eating healthy!