On his way home, Michael's heart pounded relentlessly against his chest. Work granted him solitude, an ideal setting to quell the itch of showcasing his newfound abilities. However, at home, the arrival of his parents after 18:00, coupled with Dan's likely prolonged stay into the late hours, presented a different challenge.
"No, can't show 'em yet. I can barely make a coin 'levitate.' I need to get to the stage of at least lifting a car, flying, maybe even stopping bullets. Anything less ain't cool enough. Besides, the real fun's in imagining their reaction more than actually revealing my power." Michael wasn't about to squander the thrill on mere anticipation, only to lose interest upon fulfillment.
Tossing his uniforms on the bed and slipping into something more comfortable, Michael retreated to his room, as per his routine. Uncharacteristically, he didn't power up his computer.
"Practice!"
The yearning to manifest the powers he'd always dreamt of having had transformed from a wishful fantasy into a reality demanding time and effort. Since immobilizing the String proved too challenging, Michael decided to focus on the opposite — aligning with the String's natural tendencies.
"Yeah, faster, faster than that!"
The String moved smoothly in his chest and arms, but directing It higher or lower across his body felt like hitting a roadblock.
"Now, out from my index finger. In! Out from my palm!"
Michael experimented with rapidly drawing the String in and out, developing a vague sense of where It could stretch easily and where It faced resistance. Through his fingertips, the String extended most readily past the skin, followed by the palm and the crook of the arm. The challenge increased near the armpit, and beyond that point was currently impossible.
"Is it because the sense of touch is most sensitive in those areas or the daily exertion of these parts of the body?" Michael pondered as he continued shifting the String at extreme speeds.
By 18:00, both his parents had returned from work. Just in case they looked for him and because hunger struck, Michael left his room to prepare something to eat and greet them.
"What are you making?" Mary placed her bag on the countertop.
"Just grilled cheese sandwiches. Want one?"
"Yes, please."
"Dad?"
"No, I'm good, thank you."
Gathering extra slices of bread, cheese, and condiments, Michael crafted sandwiches for himself and his mother.
"Here you go."
"Won't you sit and eat with me?" Mary asked, seeing him head back to his room.
"Sorry, Mom, was in the middle of something and just stopped to eat."
Controlling the String while eating was akin to drawing a circle in the air with one hand and the Mona Lisa with the other. Michael had to momentarily lose momentum to succeed, a feat at which he excelled, given that drawing was a skill he had mastered more proficiently than even his younger brother, Dan.
Post-grilled cheese, his dedication to practice intensified. Michael sat cross-legged on his bed, entering a rare state of concentration. Typically, only a captivating light novel or game could command such attention. This time, he wasn't reading or playing; he was pushing his limits. Yet, it was strangely pleasurable.
"Enough."
At 22:00, Michael declared a halt for the day. 'After so many hours of training, can't really tell if I'm improving or not. Today was experimental. Tomorrow, gotta plan a proper regime and journal. Make sure I'm keeping track with practice time and exercises. Need something to base the results on.'
With his mind made up, he went to sleep.
…
06:00-10:00
Suicides:
Michael channeled the String back and forth at high speed, traversing the upper body from the sternum. The String dashed from every finger to the corresponding one on the other hand.
10:00-14:00
Swirls:
He spun the String like a drill, alternating between low and fast speeds and then shifting from fast to low at fixed spots.
14:00-18:00
Telekinesis:
Using the String, Michael lifted a quarter continuously, with as little time to recharge as possible. He also checked if the body or mind felt different afterward.
18:00-22:00
Break:
Michael brought the String to a full stop until the tiniest wiggle was subdued.
First day results:
Suicides:
Shortest sequence before strain: Four seconds.
Longest sequence before strain: Seventeen minutes.
Number of sequences: Nine.
Swirls:
Shortest sequence before strain: Thirty-two seconds.
Longest sequence before strain: Thirty-seven minutes.
Number of sequences: Six.
Telekinesis:
Shortest attempt: Forty-nine seconds.
Longest attempt: Seventy-two seconds.
Number of attempts: Two hundred and twenty-four.
Break:
Shortest motionlessness: Zero seconds.
Longest motionlessness: Zero seconds.
Number of attempts: Almost every second!
…
22:15
For the first time in years, Michael lay on his bed so exhausted that a blink could sink his consciousness into the land of dreams. Content with his proactive day, he went to sleep giddy, thinking of tomorrow.
…
Second day of training had the same results as the first and a routine one concerning family and job. Michael wasn't disheartened. Rapid improvement would have been awesome, but starting from scratch without guidance meant everything was still in the experimental stage. He went to sleep feeling blissful once again.
…
Third day of training.
"Eighty-four seconds! Eighty-four seconds!" Sitting on his bed, a wide grin stretched across Michael’s face, and every hair on his body stood on end with electrifying ecstasy. The quarter floated above his palm for eighty-four seconds before the String returned to his body.
"This can be considered breaking through a bottleneck, right? Definitely! At the seventy-ninth second, I was sure the String was depleted entirely, but then, at the eightieth second, It got a boost of vigor. Yes, sustaining for four more seconds was probably luck, but the eightieth was surely a threshold! Arg… and my head is dizzy—dizzier than usual."
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
It could have been nothing, simply a new record that got to Michael’s head as something more than it actually was. Time would tell if it was a true or false achievement.
"Is the String longer? Nope… still four centimeters," he confirmed it the day before with a ruler. "Perhaps by a few millimeters?" Checking was not worth the trouble, due to the String wriggling.
20:31
Michael’s cellphone rang as he worked on forcing a break in the constant motion of the String.
“Hey, what’s up, Mac?” Michael picked up. “Tomorrow? At what time? Well… sure, I’ll pay you back, but who else is coming? Freshman college girls?! No, no. It’s alright... You know… it’d be a first for us going not as an all-male group, haha. No, I really don’t mind. Okay. Good night,” he hung up.
Results of the day… except for Telekinesis, everything was pretty much the same.
"Break is the hardest, so even if I had a breakthrough in Telekinesis, it’s acceptable I did not improve," Michael thought in his bed. As for Suicides and Swirls, since he was done with them today, he left testing whether the breakthrough influenced them for tomorrow, to entice his anticipation.
Lying in his bed, eyelids slowly descending.
"Freshman, eh… What is that? 19, 20 years old?"
…
Fourth day of training, 08:11
“Twenty-two minutes!” Michael's voice exploded in exclamation as he entered the south entrance guard’s booth.
It was the ninth sequence of Suicides, and he broke his three-day limit, persevering to and past the twentieth minute.
‘Luckily, no one was around to hear me!’ He quickly entered the booth, shutting the door behind him and giggling like a fool. ‘If in Swirls I last for forty minutes or more, then yesterday's Telekinesis breakthrough is definitely legit and the cause, if not part of it!’
It's worth stating that after Break, Telekinesis is the toughest exercise.
‘In that case, I wouldn’t mind taking an actual break and going out tonight. The tickets are already paid for.’
11:03
“Forty minutes and fifty-seven seconds!” Michael kept his voice low, yet against the awkwardness of his, he could do nothing.
Already in the second sequence of Swirls, he accomplished his aim!
‘Again! It has to be by at least two minutes!’
Reaching beyond forty minutes was fine and nice, but the margin did not satisfy him.
19:30
“Where are you going?” Marry caught Michael all dressed up, catching a whiff of the perfume he seldom uses.
“A movie with friends.”
“When will you-”
“I’m twenty-three, Mom!” Michael frowned. She would not have asked Dan.
“Okay, okay! Throw the garbage on your way out. The bag is full and it smells.”
…
"Hey!"
"What’s up?"
Michael and Mac greeted each other with smiles. Both lacking vibrant dating lives, Mac, an actual hard worker who valued his twelve-hour job, was exceptionally happy to see a friendly face of a friend rather than a colleague’s.
“Eric will meet us in the mall,” the blond-haired, blue-eyed, fully-bearded, in short, hipster-looking Mac informed.
They met on foot ten minutes from Michael’s home, at a bus station near their old high school. From there to the mall, it was a twenty to thirty-minute bus ride.
“I’m starving,” Mac rubbed his belly. Taller than Michael by a head, he could eat twice as much, even though the latter was no less a foodie.
“You don’t mean to vacuum plates right in front of the girls Eric brings, right?” Michael asked, half worried. As detached as he made himself be toward people outside his tiny circle, there was still a measure of self-awareness that ticked him off next to cute girls.
“We aren’t in high school, and it’s Eric’s sister with three of her classmates. I’m certain they already know all about what a catch we are. I knew you’d get anxious.”
“I don’t,” Michael protested.
“Sure you don’t… Come on, don’t make me say it. It’s our first night out in weeks. The only reason Eric’s sister and her friends are coming is that they’re back from college, and Eric’s parents don’t want their little princess without a chaperone at night. I just want to have fun with two of my old friends. No expectations for anyone and nothing more.”
“Fine! Fine! I get it!” Michael surrendered. “Here.”
“Ouch!”
He punched Mac’s shoulder.
“It’s a low blow, reminding that I’m the only virgin,” his voice was low.
“Sorry,” Mac rubbed his shoulder. Although bigger, he was not stronger than Michael, and Michael, as a middle child, knew how to punch to hurt.
“Here.”
“Seriously, man, I apologized!” Mac braced himself.
“It’s what I owe you for the ticket, idiot.”
“Oh, haha…”
Taking the money, Mac leaned on his seat, for the time being not mentioning his hunger. Instead, he changed the topic to casual talk on how they were doing, which deviated to what good game or Anime they watched recently.
Along the way, Michael deliberated confessing his “Superpower,” but for the same reason he kept quiet about it to his parents and Dan, he reserved its existence for himself.
Eric and the four girls waited at a cafe inside the mall. Eric, too, was taller than Michael. His mother was Asian, while his father European, giving him a sort of exotic look, tanned with green eyes and light hair—which bloomed after high school.
“Don’t break it!” A shout from behind startled Eric, causing him to nearly spill the contents of his mug.
Mac grabbed his shoulder, laughing.
“Fat fuck!” Eric turned around and punched Mac’s stomach.
“What was that for?!” The fist blew the air out of Mac.
“Ask your mother!” Eric glared. He turned to Michael more amiably. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much…” Michael chuckled, partly because it was a lie, partly because it was both funny to see Eric get scared and Mac squirming. Then his line of sight shifted to the three upset girls and the fourth one rubbing her temples. Eric’s sister was easy to identify; it was not their first meeting, and needless to say, she was a beauty.
The other three were also attractive, as in hot of his league. The redhead, in particular, rivaled Eric’s sister. They all looked fit and gave off a vibe that high school girls just did not have. There was certainly physical attraction for Michael. Being a virgin did not mean he couldn't get horny.
“Sorry for scaring you,” since Mac wouldn't apologize and Eric was sure to drop it, Michael casually greeted. He didn't see himself with any of the girls, including Eric’s sister, so without expectations, there was nothing to fret about in the uncommon company of the opposite sex. “How's college, Rika?”
“Better than home,” Rika, Eric’s sister, looked up to him. “But what can I do when my helicopter parents insist I’d visit during weekends and breaks? Never mind. Rey, Svet, MK, that’s Michael and Mac.”
“Hi,” it was a short exchange by all sides, clearly indicating the three girls were dragged here by Rika.
“Are we ordering?” Eric inquired.
After the movie, Mac's craving for a burger hit hard. Eric shot him a sideways glance and threw out, "Did you shit?"
"Eric!" Rika snapped, the vibe in the group ranging from stone face to awkward smiles.
"Nah," Mac replied with a shake of his head.
"Then choke on popcorn," Eric deadpanned.
"Brilliant!" Michael chimed in. "I told him something similar."
"Guess we really know each other too well," Eric remarked.
"Sorry again," Michael apologized once more, not giving a damn if it made him seem unsure. He was used to covering for his friends when their banter got a bit too colorful around outsiders, regardless of age or gender.
"Not your fault, right?" a red-haired girl named MK remarked, more statement than question.
"Not really, but you guys ain't familiar with our antics."
"Typical boys' behavior," MK retorted. "We see it a lot in college. Although, outside the campus bubble, folks at an age where they should be graduates, we don't call 'em 'boys,' we call 'em 'man-child.'"
Michael smirked, opting not to respond this time. 'Is she throwing shade because of the banter or does she just not vibe with any of us?' He decided to let the four girls lead the communication dance.
"Maybe we should take a break, you know, disconnect for more than a month, and then reconnect when we start missing each other," Mac suggested as the group exited the cafe for the theater.
The three guys strolled ahead, Eric playing watchdog over the girls.
"Now that's an idea," Eric said, clapping.
"Perfect," Michael cheered. "Eric, after tonight, let's catch up again in a month and a half. Mac, we'll see you in five years. Cool?"
"Hilarious," Mac sneered. "I wonder what'll happen if I erase the tickets from my phone."
"Reimbursement," Eric scoffed.
"Enough," Michael intervened, patting both on the shoulders. He could endure more of their back-and-forth, but the sneers from the girls behind him were getting under his skin. "The movie's about to start."
20:15
The premiere of a long-awaited superhero flick kicked off. Since Mac snagged the tickets online, they scored some primo seats. Michael found himself next to MK. She opted for a small popcorn and diet Pepsi, consuming them with restraint, while he amassed a mountain of candy bars and a jumbo bucket of popcorn. Whoever she was, his conscience prodded him to share. After all, the poor college girl probably wasn't rolling in cash.
"Thanks," she whispered sincerely as she accepted a candy bar, then fixed her attention on the movie.
For reasons unknown, Michael felt a little better about himself.
22:00
The seven spilled out of the theater as the final credit scene rolled into view.
“Hungry, anyone?” Eric swiveled to the four girls trailing behind. “I know you're only here because Rika twisted your arms. She may be a brat, but she's my little sister brat. As a nod to babysitting her at school, I’ll foot the bill for you. What d’ya say?”
The quartet huddled, discussing their options.
“Can we pick the joint?” Rika chimed in.
“Fine,” Eric relented, turning to Mac and Michael. “You guys in?”
“Exhausted,” Mac confessed. “But it's the weekend, and we don’t usually hit the bars after a flick.”
“Does it matter if you're grinding every day? Been a minute since I tossed back a drink,” Michael agreed to the plan.
“Where we headed?” Eric directed the question at his younger sibling.
“The Debinger.”
“Oh, you gotta be twenty-one or smokin’ hot to get in there. Doubt they’ll let you in, but your pals might have a shot. A couple of rules, though. 1. No pics. If our folks catch wind I took you to a club, my head’s on a platter. 2. We enter and exit together, when I say so. 3. None of you wanders off without me, Mac, or Michael—”
“Rule 1 is cool. We can talk 2, but 3 is some misogynistic crap!” Svet, the curly blonde, grumbled. “We've hit up parties since fifteen—”
“Don't give a damn,” Eric calmly cut her off. “What you do solo ain't my business. My job’s to stick with my sister, but both our folks will have my head if something goes south when I’m around. Can’t swallow it? We’ll grab pizza and Netflix. I’ll give your folks a heads-up that I’m clocking out of babysitting duty.”
“Okay, okay, we'll follow all three rules,” Rey, the other blonde, said, pulling Svet along with MK. “You're picking up the tab, so we'll play nice for a night.”
“Cool. One more thing. A minor detail, not mandatory, just a tagalong to enforce Rule 3.”
‘Tagalong?’ Michael caught a wicked edge in Eric’s tone. Instinctively, he glanced at his buddy, his gut telling him something was up. “Hey—” He damn near yelled when he felt a tap on his rear. Mac gave a sly tap on his lower back and shot a wink from an angle only he could see.
“Oops, sorry,” Mac feigned innocence, acting like he'd accidentally bumped into Michael.
Michael checked his back pocket. Fuming at his buddies, yet also unable to resist glancing at the four girls, he felt a smooth, squared wrapper that was all too familiar.
“Seven of us, but only three of you,” Eric continued. “Rika's obviously with me whenever. Svet too, can't trust you right now. Mac and Rey are the tagalong duo. If Rey's off to the bar, dance floor, or bathroom, and no other girls are going, Mac escorts her. Last pair, MK and Michael, same drill. Are we cool?”
“Sure,” Rika said, holding Svet's hand, who begrudgingly complied.
“Snacks, drinks, and dance, with a personal bodyguard to fend off guys who can’t take a ‘No,’” Rey teased, linking arms with Mac, lightening the mood for her pals.
“An hour. Two max. Some of us punch the clock early on weekends…” Mac reminded.
MK and Michael stayed silent. MK because there was nothing more to add, and she’d accepted the terms. Michael because his mouth was parched, fearing that if he opened it, he might implode on his buddies.