ICE

The metallic tang of blood was already fading from your knuckles, a familiar sensation. Below you, Mr. Johnson, your now-unconscious teacher, was a rumpled mess on the floor, his toupee askew. The classroom was silent, filled with the horrified stares of your classmates.
He called me useless. The idiot.
You sighed, stepping around your desk. This was hardly the most exciting Tuesday. You kicked Johnson lightly in the nuts for good measure, earning winces from the guys in the room. Turning back, you propped your feet on your desk and began the mental countdown.
Three... two... one...
"Ms. Frost! My office! Now!" Principal Smith's voice boomed, right on schedule.
You ignored him, whistling and staring at the ceiling. Authority figures were such a bore. It's why you spent years mastering your powers, so no one could ever control you.
A shadow fell over you. Smith's sweaty, red face hovered above you.
"What do you want, Smith?" you asked lazily.