F-Tier... yeah, feels about right, really. I mean, how else would you classify a power that's description reads, "I get a tiny bit better at stuff"?

They did send me home with some pamphlets and such, but I pretty much just handed those off to my parents, along with the badge with my picture on it that I received before leaving, and went straight to my room. It had been a long, tiring day, and it was fully night by the time I got in. With the school year just around the corner, I had about two weeks left of summer vacation, and I wanted to use it to do as little as possible. I would still have my regular karate classes, but aside from that, my schedule was wide open until Mom's Labor Day Weekend "new clothes" extravaganza.

It seemed, however, that there was no immediate reprieve coming, since I got woken up first thing by Darryl calling me, "Seriously, man? Eight AM on a Saturday?"

"Yo, you didn't come back with us! You got powers?!"

Darryl was one of the rare people left in the world who was a comic book fan. The comics industry had pretty much imploded when superpowers became a reality, cause who's going to read comic books about fictional superheroes when the real thing is right there? Darryl... Darryl would, "Man, it's not worth it. I got a power, and it's the crap one. I have the power to get slightly better at stuff, that's it. But hey, I'm the first F-Tier superhero in existence... woo. Can I go back to sleep now?"

Darryl was clearly still wanting to talk about this, "Nah, nah. I'll buy MickeyD's. You up for it?"

My stomach reacted to the news like an ancient monster rising from the depths. Egg McMuffins sounded really good right now, and some sausage burritos... and a sweet tea. I had some money from yesterday to pay for food that I never ended up spending, so I swung out of bed, threw on basic clothes, and got ready to head out. Ugh, yeah, definitely time for new clothes, my shirt and jeans felt a little tight, and I had to adjust the band on my cadet cap. Ah well, time for that later when Mom goes nuts about clothes shopping.

Invariably, Darryl and I kept ending up at this particular McDonald's. At least for breakfast, it was cheap enough for us to eat, and one dollar unlimited refill drinks was a pretty good deal all figured. Darryl was already there, coming from the other side, and he was practically vibrating with excitement. God, this was gonna be hard on him to hear.

He got ready to jump right in, but I cut it off, "We're not talking about this til I have food and caffeine in me."

Darryl was a little bit dejected, but the promise was still there. We got in and ordered: Darryl got the breakfast platter, and he bought me my regular order, sausage egg and cheese McMuffin and a large sweet tea. Then I added in two more McMuffins and three sausage burritos which I paid for myself. It was weird, it still didn't feel like enough food. The food came out quickly enough, and we went around the corner from the registers to our usual seats over by the restrooms away from everyone.

I laid into my food, and didn't realize something was up until I noticed Darryl was paused, staring at me, "Damn, dude, when's the last time you ate?"

I looked down. Darryl had somewhat started his breakfast, and I'd polished off two of my McMuffins and both of my burritos, and I would need to refill my tea, "Wow, yeah, cafeteria yesterday for lunch."

"That explains that," he replied, shrugging and getting back to eating while I went over and refilled my tea. Then I stopped back at the counter, and dropped the rest of my lunch money on a couple more sandwiches, and a large mocha frappuccino. Damn, I was hungry.

We kept eating until Darryl decided he'd let me get enough food in me, "Okay, so like, what was it like?"

I swallowed my bite of McMuffin, and considered a moment, "I mean, when the tablet glowed, the guy doing the exam nearly swore, but honestly, it ended up being nothing. Met a couple of other supers who were doing the evaluation. Anna's a psychic, she was just there like Mrs. Brown in the guidance office, and Adam, he was the guy who 'awakened' my powers and told me what they were. Mostly, it kept ratcheting between really scary and totally boring."

His enthusiasm for the moment didn't weaken even a little, "Yeah, but you said you were the first ever F-Tier. How'd that happen?!"

Don't get me wrong, Darryl is my best friend. We'd been together as long as either of us had memory, and aside from some arguments and fights here or there, we'd always been best friends, but his constant upbeat excitement could be... we'll call it spiritually taxing. If someone ever figures out how to harness his energy, I swear we'd be off fossil fuels in under a year, "Well, that's basically what happens when you get the worst superpower ever discovered. I get slightly better at things, that's it. No super flight, speed, nothing. I just get better at... stuff, he didn't specify what, though."

Darryl sat back, and looked sort off into the middle distance for a moment, "Yeah, but like, what was the power actually called?"

God, I want off this ride, "1% incremental improvement. I get slightly better at stuff."

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He did some math on his phone for a minute before responding, "We need to go bowling."

Darryl's dad ran a local bowling alley, nothing too fancy, but because his dad owned it, we could bowl for free. The only downside is I suck at it. The best I have ever bowled is a 33, but fine, whatever gets us out of this conversation. At least they have chili dogs and never-ending root beer... why am I still hungry?

We went to the alley, and I let my mom know on the way where we were. We got our spot down at the end, and started bowling. Darryl demolished me in the first game, hitting a 130, while I did get a personal best, of 37. Ooh, look at the unrestrained power of a super....

Darryl wasn't ready to be done, so we kept going, and Darryl kept taking notes:

Game 1: 37- 130 Darryl

Game 2: 42- 127 Darryl

Game 3: 48- 122 Darryl

"Look, Darryl, I'm glad you're happy, but I don't want to spend the whole day in a bowling alley."

He looked like he was about to explode with energy, "No, dude, you don't get it. You've bowled your best game ever, every time. Look!"

He'd scored every game on paper, and showed me, "Huh..."

He had marked both our scores, highlighting mine, and with it laid out on paper, it was easier to see it. Yeah, I still sucked, but I was more on target with every frame. Notations above the scorecard laid out the math of bowling: 2 bowls per frame for 10 frames, and if I cleared the pins on 10, I got a third roll. Normally, that's 20 rolls of the ball per game, three games, 60 bowls. Darryl's grin threatened to swallow his whole head, "Don't you see it, man?!"

I mean, it was neat, and certainly better than I'd ever done, but I don't feel like it merited this degree of energy into it. Darryl was getting frustrated now, and took out more paper, "Look. Okay, let's say you have a dollar, right? Now, let's say that every second, the dollar gets 1% more valuable. How much money would you have in just one day?"

I did the math on my phone, "Eight-hundred, sixty-four dollars. I mean, it's neat."

Darryl slapped hands down on the table we were scoring at, "No! You're doing the math wrong. Look!"

He started drawing out the equation. $1 became $1.01, then $1.0201, and Darryl explained as he continued the equation, "Every second, the number gaining the 1% increase is slightly higher than the last time. Sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes an hour, and twenty-four hours in a day. That's... 86,400 increases in a single day. Keep bowling, I'll score it."

"I need food."

Chili dogs achieved, I went back to bowling. Darryl took notes, and started recording on his phone, while I just kept rolling a ball down a lane. At first, I really didn't have much faith in this, but he was right, my scores kept improving, and improving by slightly more each game. By the tenth game, I was easily beating Darryl's best scores. I wasn't getting better each game, I was getting better every time I picked up and rolled the ball. It didn't phase Darryl in the slightest, and he only seemed happier as it went on, but something felt off, "Hey, Darryl, the ball feels weird. It's... too light?"

"YES! I was right!"

He exploded out of his seat, and rushed over, "I didn't even know if it'd be a thing, and it is! Quick, put the ball in your other hand!"

I switched hands, and felt the regular weight come back, while Darryl started grabbing my shoulders and squeezing, "Dude, not doing a massage right now!"

"No, no. I'm checking your shoulders. Feel it, your right shoulder feels tougher and thicker."

I set the ball down in the return, and sure enough, he was right. Looking, there was a slight difference between my left and right arms, things had shifted, and I felt a slight alarm, but Darryl could not be stopped, "Switch hands, bowl with your left until it feels the same as it did with your right."

Okay... I started bowling again, following the directions... and it was like a soft reset. I sucked again, not as much as I had originally, but again, it started going up. With every roll of the ball, I was getting better. When I caught up to my right, I started switching arms between bowls, and by the time we left, I did the impossible: I hit a perfect 300, once with my right, and once with my left. In the matter of half a day, I had gone from sucking, to perfect scoring back-to-back while switching hands. I thought I would be absolutely exhausted, but mostly, I was just starving, and grabbed a lane pizza before we headed out.

Once we were outside, Darryl checked my shoulders again, "Yup, just like I thought!"

I was a bit tired, but the pizza smelled too good to wait, so I grabbed a slice, "An explanation would be great, man."

"Okay, so this is really just a hypothesis right now, but I'm pretty sure they screwed up your eval. It's not just the bowling, though that was insane to watch. Your shoulders and arms improved while you were bowling. It wasn't just a matter of you bowling better with each throw, your body incrementally improved with every roll of the ball. That's why the ball got lighter, it didn't, but it didn't feel like as much weight because the muscles in your arms got one percent better every time you picked the ball up and moved with it. Your form got better too, I got that on video. And that is why you're eating so much!"

I shook my head and swallowed, "What the hell does that have to do with my eating?!"

He was all teeth with the smile again, "Because man, you needed all that protein, cause your body was literally improving in real-time. Like, you remember that thing, that one Thor guy who was on Game of Thrones? Peter Dinklage talked about how the dude ate six whole chickens at dinner the one night. That's cause he's a serious weightlifter, and he needs the calories and protein for muscle maintenance and growth. That's you dude! So far today, you've eaten... five McMuffins, four large teas, two sausage burritos with salsa, a large frapp, four chili dogs, a soft pretzel with cheese, mozz sticks, about a gallon of root beer, you ate the ice that came with it, and... you're gonna finish off that pepperoni pizza before you get home."

I made excuses, and said my goodbyes to Darryl, who did take it in stride, calling it my 'brood on a rooftop' time, and citing that tons of heroes did it in comics. I kind of understood why now, even though it had seemed silly before. Oddly enough, I went by the high school, and took a seat on the bleachers by the football field to eat my pizza. No one would look for me here, which is what I wanted. It was all too much. Jesus, just over a day ago, all I wanted was to cruise through the last bit of my summer vacation, maybe do some huge Minecraft project. Now, my body was changing so fast you could see differences, I had all these expectations, just... I needed everything to just quiet down. I don't know what to do, and I'm terrified, and even the act of eating is now somehow locked to all of this. It's my whole life, and I don't want it.