Even Stranger

Description

I was five when I found I could fly, sixteen when I killed a man. Both events were unsettling in their own way and, together with various other close calls, taught me I was not, nor did I want to be, hero material. Telepathy and my other odd abilities needed to be kept under wraps. In the future, normal was going to be the name of the game.
The fact that normal didn’t work that smoothly was probably due to an overdeveloped conscience, an inability to keep my nose out of other people’s business and because several people wanted me dead.
Why is it just when you think you’ve got all your ducks in a row, something or someone always turns up to blast them right out of the water?

Perfect for fans of Stephen King and Janet Evanovich.