[ WP ] You have a very shitty type of precognition .

Everyone was excited. 
 
 It was determination day, the 1 day a year that children at the age of 17 could get tested for their power, or even powers. For some, their abilities had already begun to appear and this was simply a confirmation. For others, the possibilities were endless. Of course, there were the `` common'' powers- super strength, energy beams, flight. According to the pamphlets everyone got, roughly 50 % of people had such powers. There were the less common ones- teleportation, phasing through objects, rapid healing. 
 
 And of course, there were the rare powers, the ones people both dreamed of having and dreaded. Time travel, telepathy, precognition. Those kinds of powers immediately secured you a job at a research lab or the military. Very high paying jobs, of course. But you got the job whether you wanted it or not. 
 
 I'd spent the night before the test staying up, dreaming of that powers I would get. Would I be able to control the weather, like my mom? Or maybe I'd be able to shape-shift, like my brother. He got conscripted by the army after that. Maybe I'd be able to see him if I could do something cool like him. 
 
 But then again, maybe I would get a really dumb power like my English teacher. She could pronounce any word correctly just by reading it. Maybe teaching a language made that a nifty ability, but not one I'd want to have. 
 
 When the day of the test arrived, I was both groggy and energized from almost no sleep. When they called my group, I was practically sprinting to the door. They changed the test nearly every year, but the basics were always the same. I was ready. 
 
 Or so I thought. 
 
 When we got in the room, there were no chairs or tables or exam papers like I expected. There were shelves filled with tiny bottles. Me and the other 14 kids looked at each other, bewildered. We'd never heard of anyone being tested in this way. 
 `` What are those?'' a skinny girl at the back asked. 
 `` I dunno,'' someone whispered back. For a long moment, no one moved. You could feel the tension in the air, everyone wondering who would go. 
 I shot forward, unable to take the anticipation. Before anyone could react, I sprinted to the shelves. I took one of the fragile bottles in my hands, held it up to the light. On the bottom was a label with a name. `` Alex Jones''. I shrugged, not knowing who that was. 
 
 `` They have our names on it,'' I guessed out loud. By then more than half the group had joined me and were busy inspecting the bottles. 
 `` Yeah, you're right. This one's mine,'' the skinny girl from earlier announced. After a few minutes of shuffling and swapping, we each had our own bottles. 
 
 `` Are we supposed to drink it?'' a tall boy asked, scowling. `` What if it's poisonous?'' 
 I stared at him blankly. `` Why would they want to poison us?'' 
 He shrugged. `` The government does all sorts of weird shit.'' 
 
 I turned the bottle around in my palm. Other than my name, there were no other markings on its transparent surface. A light blue liquid swished inside of it. 
 
 The skinny girl shrugged and uncapped the bottle. Before we could say anything, she downed every drop. 
 
 The scowling boy all but slapped the bottle from her hands. `` Are you crazy!? You have no idea what's in that!'' he exploded. 
 
 She laughed. `` My power's poison immunity. I've known since middle school.'' Before she could explain further, the clutched her head. `` This is n't poisonous,'' she continued finally, `` But it's... weird. I can see a word, in my head. 2 words. Poison immunity,'' she sounded out slowly. `` I guess it tells you your power after you drink it.'' 
 
 Not being able to stand more waiting, I wrenched the cap off the bottle, nearly crushing it in my palm. `` Sounds good to me,'' I said, taking a long swig. Immediately I wanted to gag. The girl was right- it tastes overly sweet. I almost instantly see a word. No... two words. 
 
 LIMITED PRECOGNITION 
 
 I blinked. The words slowly faded. _Limited precognition? Limited how? _ I wondered. I looked around at everyone drinking, slowly swallowing and wincing at the sugary taste. On rubbery legs, I stumbled my way out of the room. It wo n't be long before the military finds me. Maybe I'll see my brother. 
 
 When I get home no one is there. Maybe they'll wait before they snatch me. I go to my room, sink onto my bed, stare at my ceiling. LIMITED PRECOGNITION. What does that even mean? 
 
 I hear a door open and shut downstairs. It might be my dad. Or maybe my new employers are here. I swallow the lump that's suddenly appeared in my throat. I force myself to stand. If I pretend nothing's wrong, maybe no one will know. They did n't make us report our powers, after all. Maybe they wo n't find me. 
 
 I walk down the staircase, trying to pretend to be upbeat. 
 
 `` Hi dad!'' I greet as cheerfully as possible. He's at the fridge, trying to decide what to eat. My dad pulls out something, I ca n't see what, and mutters something to himself. I can see steam wafting towards the ceiling. My dad has undoubtedly used his heating powers to instantly cook something. 
 
 _Not something. Chicken._ 
 
 I scrunch my nose. How did I know that? Probably a lucky guess. 
 
 He turns around, holding a perfectly cooked chicken. `` Hi kiddo, how was your day?'' 
 
 `` It was-,'' before I finish my sentence, I think of something else. My dad... is going to get some mustard. Dijon mustard. Then tomorrow morning, he's going to have some toast with jam. Strawberry. 
 
 Mom's going to have scrambled eggs when she gets home, extra salt, pinch of pepper. My brother, wherever he is, is going to have some sort of jello tonight. 
 
 Why do I know that? 
 
 Then it hits me. 
 
 `` I can predict what people will eat!?'' 

