by Ian Somers
Suddenly, a little orange cat appeared and crouched down directly in my path, hissing as if a thousand stray dogs were bearing down on it. I couldn’t swerve around the little pest, but at the last instant I managed to force energy downward which propelled the board into the air. I vaulted over the cat and five feet into the air.
When I came back to earth I looked back at the little feline without slowing down.
‘Sorry ‘bout that, Kitty! Didn’t mean to scare you.’
My blood ran cold when I turned around. I’d taken that route every day for over a month and should have made a mental note that there was a concrete pillar standing in the centre of the alley’s exit, it had been placed there to stop trouble makers on motorbikes from driving through the alleys. I was hurtling towards it at a phenomenal speed and I knew I couldn’t leap it or swerve around it. There was no avoiding it! I’d reacted too late and was about to crash into a hefty block of concrete at a hundred miles per hour! Panic electrified my brain and a sudden surge of energy and heat radiated from my chest. Just before the impact I instinctively raised my right hand and I felt the heat and energy flow from my chest and through my arm and fingers. I was subconsciously focusing my power at the pillar.
It blasted into a million pieces and I skated straight through the cloud of debris and into the street beyond. I slid to a halt, my heart pounding like a hammer in my chest. I was covered, head to toe, in dust but I’d come through it without a single scratch or bruise. Not to mention the broken bones I should have had.
How had I done it?
I lifted my hand in front of my face and stared at it for a long moment. Could I smash concrete? A grin grew on my face and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I had just discovered a new side to my power. No longer was I confined to simple tricks and stunts. I could also smash concrete!
I gazed at the cloud of dust that was sweeping out into the road. The cat emerged from it shaking its head furiously and licking its paws. I erupted into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
‘Hey, Kitty. I can smash concrete!’ I roared, thumping my chest. ‘No mere prankster am I.’
The cat shook itself, as if in disapproval, and darted off down the street. My excitement faded when a car turned the corner. The driver stared through the windscreen at the dust cloud then at me. I simply shrugged my shoulders and smiled cheekily. I took to my board and quickly left the street, but not quite as quickly as before, I’d had enough of breaking records for one day.
I dismounted before entering the car park in front of the supermarket because, apparently, it gave a bad impression of Delaney’s. This was according to my boss, but what did he know? According to him my hairstyle gave a bad impression of the place too, and the way I wore my uniform. Oh, my shelf arrangements weren’t helping either.
I clocked in just on time and went to the changing room and put on my uniform: a bright red shirt, brown slacks and a red and white tie. Seriously, a blind person must have come up with the colour scheme. I walked onto the supermarket floor and proceeded to look for something to pretend to do.
I skulked around the aisles, trying to avoid the watchful eye, and eventually found myself moving boxes of cereal around in no obvious order. I’d perfected the art of looking busy since I started working in Delaney’s. I could spend entire days looking busy without actually doing anything productive, which I considered a skill in itself.
Amazingly, I got away with my dossing for almost an hour and was trying so hard to look busy that I didn’t notice the early morning shoppers staring and frowning as they wheeled their trolleys down the aisle. An old woman even stopped to gawk at me, but I tried to ignore her, thinking she’d only ask me to fetch something she couldn’t find for herself. That was one of the things that really bugged me about working in the supermarket; people never left me alone for very long. They always wanted me to clean, move or rearrange something. My most common task was to find items for customers.
I had a defence mechanism though. I had humour. Sometimes if they asked where the toilet rolls were, I’d answer, ‘There’s a half roll in the cubicle out back,’ or if they asked where the pasta was I’d say, ‘It’s boiling at the moment and I should have it ready for you in approximately three minutes.’
My defence mechanism often landed me in trouble though. Apparently smart talk to the customers gave a bad impression of Delaney’s. And the uniforms didn’t?
My boss, Mr Reynolds, loved the uniforms, but that was probably because he was the only one working in the place who didn’t have to wear one. Reynolds was my worst enemy, although he claimed I was my own worst enemy.
There was a lot of coughing and chuckling being done by the shoppers and it grabbed my attention. It was only then that I noticed the curious looks I was getting from them. Even the girls at the deli counter were snorting in my direction.
‘Bentley!’
It was Reynolds. His voice was very nasal and sounded like the horn of a vintage car.
I slowly turned around to see his tight, thin face coming close to my own. I knew he was going to give out about something but I tried to act cool, just in case he wasn’t.
‘How’s it going, sir?’ I asked with a smile.
‘Oh, my day is already turning out to be an eventful one, like every other day since I hired you.’
‘Why’s that, Mr Reynolds?’
‘Have you a dandruff problem, Bentley?’
It was only then I noticed my hair and shoulders were coated in the dust of the exploding pillar. The first rule at Delaney’s was to look presentable at all times while on the floor, which meant I was giving a bad impression of the place – yet again.
‘It’s quite a serious dandruff problem by the looks of it,’ Reynolds continued. ‘Any explanation of how you developed such a problem since I saw you yesterday?’
‘It’s not actually dandruff.’
‘Really,’ Reynolds said sarcastically. He folded his arms and feigned interest. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s actually dust. I was er … cleaning out the … attic … this morning and it was dusty up there. It’s been years, decades even, since it’s gotten a good tidying.’
‘Cleaning out the attic, eh. Sounds like a very sane activity to engage in first thing in the morning.’
‘I would say it’s therapeutic. I suggest you try it some time.’
‘I have a suggestion of my own: you should go and dust yourself off immediately,’ Reynolds lowered his face and narrowed his eyes at me, ‘and make sure you don’t take too much time doing it.’
I knew how to take an order so I saluted him and turned stiffly on one heel then made my way towards the store room. I was leaving a faint trail of dust in my wake, but nobody was too concerned because I was the one who swept the floors. It was turning out to be a bad day and just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, Gemma barged through the swing doors from the store room. She stopped dead in her tracks and looked at me like I had five heads. She gazed at my dusty hair for a while before speaking.
‘What happened to you this time?’ she asked, her face amused.
‘You don’t want to know and you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’
I spent the rest of the morning sweeping floors and helping to deal with the big weekly delivery. I tried my best to stay out of trouble and even fought off the desire to use my gift at one point; I’d spotted Reynolds leaning over a refrigerator unit and was tempted to give him a little nudge that would have sent him face first into a stack of frozen peas. I often felt the urge to be mischievous when Reynolds was around, but I hardly ever indulged in that kind of skullduggery. Something deep down inside told me that the gift was never to be used to hurt others. It was as though my powers were only intended for the good of mankind … but this could have been from watching too many superhero movies.
I got some respite at 12.30 when my half-hour lunch break arrived and I went to sit in the rear yard to enjoy a bottle of juice in the fine weather. I couldn’t stop th
inking about how I’d destroyed the pillar that morning.
How did I do it? Could I summon such power at will or did I have to be angry or afraid? I was almost eighteen years old and I had noticed that the gift had been growing in strength for the seven years since I discovered it. I wondered just how powerful I could become. Could I become so powerful that I would be a danger to others?
There were so many unanswered questions about my powers, every day there seemed to be a new one to ponder. The most difficult question to answer was: how to use the gift? I knew I couldn’t waste the power on pulling pranks and making anonymous videos. There had to be a higher calling. There had to be a way to put the gift to good use.
‘Hey, Dusty.’
I looked up to see Gemma standing there, smiling from ear to ear. She had her hands on her hips and a teasing look in her big brown eyes.
‘Please don’t call me that,’ I moaned.
‘Too late. All the staff have agreed to call you that from now on.’ She sat down next to me and swept her silky brown hair over her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll always be “Ross” to me.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘You seem very chirpy this morning. What’s behind that big smile of yours?’
‘Well, I am feeling quite happy with myself. My two friends and I found an apartment in the city that we’re going to rent when we start college in September!’
‘How interesting,’ I said rather glumly. I hated when she mentioned college; her leaving Dullbrook meant I would have to endure the place on my own. ‘You must be really looking forward to it.’
‘I am.’ There was a brief flash of concern in her eyes. ‘You still haven’t any plans for after the summer?’
‘No plans past this week. I won’t get good enough results for college, so it’s either stay here at Delaney’s or find some other bottom-feeding job.’
‘It’s your own fault that you didn’t do well in school, Ross.’
‘Oh?’ It wasn’t like Gemma to be so forward. ‘How’d you figure that out?’
‘I could give you a thousand examples.’
‘Give me two.’
‘Okay. When Mr O’Donnell asked what the difference between Stratus and Cirrocumulus clouds was, you said, “One is made of candy floss and other is simply a figment of your imagination, sir.”’
‘Oh yeah,’ I chuckled. I’d tormented Mr O’Donnell for the five years he taught us geography.
‘And then,’ Gemma continued, ‘when he said, “What sort of idiot are you, Bentley?” you answered, “What sorts are there, sir?”’
‘At least I called him sir.’
‘It’s not funny!’ Gemma snapped, she’d always been the model student and hated my reckless attitude. ‘You made school impossible for yourself and now you’re seeing the result. You’re gonna be stuck here while everyone else is moving on.’
‘No need to rub it in.’
‘I’m not trying to rub it in. I just can’t figure you out, Ross Bentley! You’re the strangest person I’ve ever known. You were one of the smartest guys in St Francis’, but you failed all your exams. You were the best at sport, but you gave it up. We all wanted to know you better, but you barely talked to anyone and lots of girls in Maybrook fancy you, but you’ve never had a girlfriend.’
‘I’m not like other guys.’
‘Tell me something I don’t know.’
‘I could tell you something that no one knows.’
Gemma turned to me sharply and placed her hand on my shoulder. ‘Ross, I’m your friend. You can tell me anything.’
‘Gemma, I’m—’
‘Bentley!’ a voice barked from behind. ‘Doesn’t your lunch break finish at one o’clock?’
I turned to see Reynolds standing behind me, tapping the face of his wristwatch. ‘It’s now three minutes past! I’m not paying you to shoot the breeze.’
‘How does one shoot the breeze?’ I wondered aloud.
‘How many times have I warned you about that smart mouth of yours, Bentley? It gives a terrible impression of Delaney’s.’
I ambled off the ground and headed back inside for four hours of excruciating boredom. What made it worse was that I had opened the door to Gemma; she now knew something strange was going on in my life. She would hound me until I told her what was really going on. And if I didn’t come clean she’d see it as me pushing her away. Did I really want to let my secretiveness ruin our friendship? Would telling her about my gift make her afraid of me or think I was crazy?
Perhaps it didn’t matter; I was slowly losing her as a friend anyway. In a couple of months she would relocate and find lots of new friends at college and I’d become a virtual stranger to her, someone she occasionally spoke to on Facebook. That made me truly alone in the world.
There had to be more to life! There had to be people out there who I could be myself with. There had to be others out there like me. People who wouldn’t think I was weird because I had a special gift. People I could learn from.
Where were they though and how could I find them?
CHAPTER THREE -
The Million Dollar Gift
I was in a very dark mood as I boarded home. I was in such bad sorts that I even dared to use my gift in public. There was a gang of no-brainers a couple of years older than me hanging out on a street corner on my route home. They’d been shouting abuse at me every night since I started at Delaney’s. I usually ignored them, but that night I wasn’t in a passive frame of mind.
‘Here’s the sweetheart with the skateboard,’ one shouted. He was a stocky twerp with a flat nose and a shaved head. ‘You’re about the best-looking girl in Maybrook!’
They all laughed and another threw a stone over my head. I turned and blew a kiss to the one with the shaved head. He instantly gave chase, but no matter how fast he ran I was always just out of reach. Then inexplicably, he lost his footing and fell hard on the pavement. It looked like he simply fell but I knew better. I’d sent a little burst of power at his feet that knocked him off his stride.
I treated myself to a sly grin when I heard the thump. It made me feel strong, not weak like I always felt when I was at work or when people called me names. I felt powerful and wicked, but these feelings were quickly replaced by guilt; I hated using the gift to cause harm to others, it wasn’t fair. What was worrying was that the crappier my life got the angrier I became. The angrier I was, the more I was tempted to harm people. It was a vicious cycle that had to be severed before I got myself into serious trouble.
I put on my earphones and listened to music as I rolled on towards Dullbrook Avenue. I made sure to avoid angry or depressing tunes, opting instead for more mellow songs. Music always calmed me down and I was feeling something akin to normal as I entered the avenue.
When I got home I slammed the hall door shut and made the lights in the hallway come on. When I plucked the earphones from my ears I heard the low murmur of the 6 o’clock news coming from the sitting room. Life at my house was terribly predictable.
As I took to the staircase Dad called out, ‘That you?’
I didn’t give my usual answer. ‘Yes, it is I, the famous shelf-stacker of Dullbrook. Also known as the biggest loser in the world.’
‘What did you say?’
‘Nothing,’ I shouted back as I reached my room. ‘Nothing important.’
The lights in the room came on and I flung my skateboard into the corner then angrily kicked off my runners. Frustration had been building inside me for a long time and I was really struggling to keep it in check. I tried to clear my mind of all the difficulties that dogged me. I banished Reynolds, the local gang, my job and the failures of school from my thoughts.
I searched for a positive thought to focus on and remembered what I’d done to the concrete pillar. All the bad thoughts evaporated and I became excited again, just like I was when I rolled out of the dust cloud. I wondered if I could do it again, but without putting my life at risk. Could I destroy or move something bigger than a block of sto
ne? But what could I use as a test?
Walking over to the window, I lifted the net curtains over my head and I looked along the avenue. There was nobody around. My gaze hopped from one garden to the next, but nothing caught my attention; there were only potted plants or garden ornaments. I needed something more substantial. I needed a real test!
I turned my attention to the road beyond my garden and grinned mischievously. I was staring at a Volvo that belonged to Mr Kirwan, the grumpy old man who lived in the house opposite ours. I tapped into the frustration that I was feeling and channelled it towards the vehicle … nothing happened.
I needed to concentrate harder. I needed to put everything I had into this attempt. I focused on all the things that made me angry, then pressed the palm of my right hand against the window. I pushed every ounce of anxiety, energy and frustration from my chest and imagined my hand as a conductor. My legs suddenly stiffened then shivered violently. Condensation began to spread on the glass.
Then it happened. The car began to move, only slightly, from side to side. As I focused harder the vehicle actually began to bounce on its suspension, as if an invisible rhino was scratching its backside off it. I clamped my eyes shut and pressed forward against the window that was now covered in tiny moisture droplets. The car moved off the ground, only by a couple of centimetres and only for a split second, but it moved. As it touched back onto the ground the car’s alarm screamed and broke my concentration. The link was shattered.
I fell back onto my bed, out of breath. My heart was pounding hard and my head was spinning. I felt physically drained – almost ready to pass out – but emotionally I was in rapture; I’d always been able to move small objects using my will alone, but now I was able to lift objects as big as cars! I felt like the most powerful person on the planet. The possibilities were endless … if I was willing to use the gift more openly. That would be a big step forward though; I didn’t want to be seen as some sort of sideshow freak.
