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He awoke the next morning to the sound of his alarm buzzing loudly, though he didn’t even remember setting the thing. He groaned as he hit the switch to shut off the incessant noise and rolled out of bed.
After showering, where he noticed bruises on his legs and shoulder, Lance went downstairs for breakfast.
“Hey, look who finally decided to get up,” Eva said as she finished eating and stood up to clear away her dishes. She handed Lance a plate that had been resting on the counter. “Here, I made you bacon and eggs.”
“Thanks,” Lance said as he took the plate from her and sat down. After the night he had, he was starved. Moments later, their mom walked into the kitchen.
She took one look at her son and said, “Oh, honey, you look terrible. If you can’t take working those long hours they stick you with, then maybe you should quit.”
They had had this conversation before, and it annoyed Lance to have to repeat it again.
“You know I can’t do that, I have to pay for school.”
Here it comes, Lance thought as soon as the words had left his mouth.
“I still don’t see why you didn’t just take that scholarship,” his mom said. She knew why, and thought it was a stupid reason; sweet, but still very stupid.
“Because, he can’t stand to be away from his precious Keri,” Eva said, making mock kissing noises.
“Lance, you’re still young. You should take that deal and go meet some nice girl away from here.”
“Keri is a nice girl,” Lance insisted. “Besides, I just didn’t think that particular school was the right one for me, and, if I change my mind, I can always transfer there later.”
He quickly finished eating, cleared his place, and ran upstairs to finish getting ready for school. He noticed that he had a voice mail from Keri. Several of them.
“Ugh. How do I explain last night to Keri?” Lance asked himself as he brushed his teeth. Sorry I didn’t call you back. I was too busy getting mugged and stopping bullets in mid-air. Yeah, that would go over just swell.
Lance spit out the toothpaste and wiped off his face before running down the stairs. Even with all that had happened the previous night, Lance still managed to think about how many times he went up and down those stairs each morning.
Lance grabbed his backpack as he headed out the door and caught up to Eva.
“Your face looks a lot better today,” Eva said as Lance opened the driver’s side passenger door and tossed his bag into the back seat while Eva did the same on the other side.
“Yeah, thanks for not mentioning that to mom, by the way,” Lance thanked as he opened the car door and got in.
“No problem,” Eva replied as she checked herself in the mirror.
“Do you think mom noticed the mark?” Lance asked as he pulled the car out of the driveway. He had to focus on backing out, as little children often ran out of the path entrance that led to the neighborhood park just across the street from their house.
“Who’s to say?” Eva asked back, applying an extra layer of lip gloss, providing just the right amount of sheen to appear seductive without looking downright slutty. “We have no idea how much she notices and what she thinks of it.”
Lance thought about how true that really was. Their mother was usually pretty quiet and never seemed to notice her children’s youthful indiscretions. Either that or she chose not to bring it up with her kids.
“Oh, uh, Ryan keeps asking about you,” Lance informed her hesitantly as he drove.
He really didn’t want to say anything, since Ryan was his best friend and Eva was his sister, and if things didn’t work out it would put Lance in a very bad situation. Still, he felt somewhat obligated to help Ryan out, and the least he could do was hint to Eva that Ryan wanted to go out with her.
“Oh?” Eva asked, trying to hide her interest. “And what does he ask about?”
“How you’ve been, um, if you’ve started seeing anyone new since the last time he asked, you know, that sort of thing,” Lance answered. He really, really didn’t like the idea of Eva and Ryan together. “He also mentioned that he really wants to ask you out, but he’s not sure how you’d react.”
“Well, I didn’t say no to him at homecoming,” Eva reasoned, a little annoyed that she was having this conversation with her brother, instead of with Ryan.
“Yeah,” Lance agreed, “But we all kind of figured that was more of a pity date. And besides, that was months ago. If you really like him, just, I don’t know, maybe show it a little.”
“Okay, though I think I’ve been pretty obvious,” Eva said sullenly.
As Lance pulled into his parking space at school, he noticed that Eva was smiling slightly, as though she were remembering a very pleasant memory, which was a bit unnerving for Lance.
Sighing to himself, Lance thought. Well, there’s no stopping it now. I can only hope that Ryan blows it.
He walked from his car to the school building, and paused to check to make sure he hadn’t gotten anything on his black track t-shirt. He liked wearing the shirt, and it went well with his jeans and favorite pair of low top, white Adidas’ with the black stripes on the side.
There was a meet that night, which meant that the varsity team was supposed to wear the team shirt, and anyone that was caught not wearing the shirt would cause the entire team to run extra laps at practice the next day. Though most of the events were individual, the coaches wanted to display a unified team spirit.
A meet also meant another thing to Lance, and that was that he wouldn’t have to work that night. It also would hopefully keep his mind off of the fact that he was almost shot in the face, and that he couldn’t explain how he wasn’t lying cold on a slab in the morgue.
Continuing that thought, he also wondered where there was a morgue in this city; Maybe somewhere in the urban city to the north? That had been one of the nice things about living in the suburbs. He hadn’t had to worry about getting shot in the face and where he would end up after that.
But, it hadn’t happened, and that was what Lance was trying to focus on. He also should have been focusing on the track meet and the girlfriend he would have to apologize to for not calling the night before. That was all the stress he thought he could handle at the moment.
“Hey, Lance,” Ryan called as he ran over to greet Lance at his locker. Ryan was also wearing his official track t-shirt. His hair was longer that Lance’s and it bobbed slightly as he ran to his friend.
“Hey, Ryan, I have some good news for you,” Lance said, attempting to fake a smile.
“Did you see the papers this morning?” Ryan asked energetically, ignoring Lance’s own news.
“No,” gulped Lance, “Why?”
“Police caught a pair of druggies trying to mug a guy,” Ryan said excitedly.
Was it the same guys? Lance thought.
“So what? That’s becoming less and less uncommon these days,” Lance replied, trying to turn Ryan off the subject of the previous night.
“So…when questioned by the police on why they were trying to mug someone so out in the open, they told the police that their boss, who the dealers refused to name, demanded payment, and they had already failed one mugging attempt earlier,” Ryan stopped for a moment and looked at Lance. “They must have been getting desperate.”
“Okay, I’m failing to see what you’re getting at,” Lance remarked, still trying not to let his anxiety show.
“Well, and this is the coolest part, the guys said that the first guy beat the crap out of them. Then, when one of the dealers tried to shoot the guy, they claim he stopped the bullet in mid-air, like some of that freaky bullet-time shit.”
“Oh, well then, that’s entirely believable,” Lance stated sarcastically. “Next you are going to say that this was from the Enquirer.”
“No, man, this was in ‘The Journal’ this morning,” Ryan tried to explain.
“And for another thing, this was reported by drug dealers. Drug dealers who had just gotten the crap beaten out of them. They were probably just scared, and well, not feeling so great from the beating,” Lance reasoned, trying to convince Ryan that what was in the paper wasn’t true. Lance reached for the folded up newspaper and snatched it out of Ryan’s hands. “Give me that. See, it says there weren’t any witnesses and that even the dealers couldn’t remember exactly where it happened.”
“Still, this is, like, everything teenage guys dream about,” Ryan said.
“My breasts?” Keri asked, popping up next to Lance and kissed him on the cheek, having to stand on her tiptoes to do so. “Mornin’ hun.”
“For once, no, Ryan wasn’t commenting on your chest,” Lance replied, trying to hide the pain as Keri leaned on his bruised shoulder.
“Really? That has to be a first,” Keri said jokingly. She was back to her normal sweet self, completely ignoring the fight she and Lance had had the day before. “So what were you guys talking about, then?”
“The genius here thinks there’s a guy out there who can stop bullets,” Lance explained.
“Hey, it’s in the paper…”
“Do you believe everything that’s in the paper, and besides, it’s just giving the drug dealer’s account of what happened, it doesn’t say that this is fact.”
“And Ryan is believing drug dealers now?” Keri interjected. “And does he know kung-fu?”
“Well, no to both, but still, it’s kind of cool,” Ryan said, defeated. There was no way he was going to win this argument. Besides, he wasn’t actually sure of what he believed, which is exactly what Lance had wanted. The three teens walked to Lance and Ryan’s first class together.
“But what about those other reports of stuff like this?” Ryan asked.
“You mean rumors? There isn’t any proof that anyone out there has any type of super powers.”
“So, hun, why didn’t you call me back last night?” Keri asked subtly as they strolled along through the thinning hallways.
“I got out of work late, so I just went home and crashed,” Lance replied. “I’m really sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. I just get worried about you sometimes. You run yourself ragged as it is, what with school and track,” Keri said as she squeezed Lance’s waist. At only five foot six, Keri was almost an entire foot shorter than Lance, so she was easily able to wrap herself around his waist. “The long days just worry me.”
“Well, I have another one today,” Lance stated, pulling on the shirt he was wearing to make his point, “But not nearly as stressful. You coming tonight?”
“If I can get a ride out there. I’m not allowed to drive right now, remember?” Keri reminded Lance. Of course he remembered, as Lance had been the cause of her current punishment. The two had broken Keri’s curfew several times too many.
“Ah, yes, your mom,” Lance said, “Well, either way. I should be able to call you afterwards tonight, unless I pass out from exhaustion again.”
He was joking, of course, but saying such things around Keri caused her to worry, which Lance found cute.
“And they have film of that guy in England…” Ryan broke in.
“That’s like saying they have video proof of Big Foot. Get over the ‘super powers’ thing already,” Lance said before kissing Keri goodbye. “Next you’ll be saying you have proof that the Martians and vampires have secretly invaded the government. Just focus on the meet tonight.”

The rest of the day was mostly uneventful, with no fights between Lance and Keri. There was also no mention of the argument from the day before.
The biology teacher was back in class that day so Lance had to take the test. It was hard for him to focus, his mind being preoccupied with everything that had happened to him lately. He kept thing that he was lucky to not only be alive, but that no one witnessed the attempted mugging. He would never have another moment of peace if someone had. That, and as he stared at the teacher, he was beginning to see why a lot of the male students did poorly in biology.
Lance also found himself worried about the victim of the drug dealer’s second failed attempt. Were they okay? The paper really hadn’t said. If the thugs hadn’t tried to jump Lance first, then the other guy might not be hurt at all. Or they could have found this other guy first, and he’d be in trouble anyway. That thought bugged Lance and it nagged at him the rest of the school day.
Thankfully, the track meet allowed Lance’s mind to take a rest and just focus in on his events.
Hey man, you doing okay?” Matt, one of the younger runners, asked. “Ryan says you’ve been like this all day.”
“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” Lance said, getting ready to warm up for his first hurdles event, which was the high hurdles. This was the one he liked best, as it really allowed him to use his longer legs to his advantage.
“Is it lady problems?” Matt asked, referring to the argument between Lance and Keri in the school’s cafeteria.
“Yeah, something like that,” Lance said, trying to unofficially confirm that as the reason to his troubles. He very well couldn’t come out and say. “No, the reason I’m distracted is because two dumbass drug dealers tried to jump me, and I fought them off until I managed to stop a bullet right before it collided with my face. Then, these same two drug dealers tried to jack someone else, got caught by the cops, and then relayed the whole thing to the police.”
That was a mouthful, and it wouldn’t be a good idea to say that to anyone anyway.
Lance, having talked about his personal problems with enough people, went out to the field alone where he ran through a few warm-ups while he waited for the final announcement to be made for his event. After several minutes of waiting, the announcement was finally made, and Lance jogged briskly to the event’s starting line.
He shook out his worries as he shed his warm-up clothes. The black, red, and white jersey that displayed his school’s name had come untucked from the tiny black cloth that was considered shorts. He quickly tucked the jersey back into the tiny black shorts and continued on in his routine. The ritual brought about a stability to his mind that he had not felt all day. Out there on the track, preparing to run, there were no drug dealers, no freaky super powers. Just one hundred and ten meters and a set of hurdles stood between him and the finish line.
“Ready…” the referee said and the runners ran through some quick stretches before settling down in to the starting blocks.
As he settled into the blocks, where Ryan stood on the back to hold them down, Lance’s mind flashed back to what the coaches had told him.
“’Don’t be the first one in the blocks, your body will just freeze and tense up that way,” one of the coaches had told him. He had so many; he couldn’t remember which one had said it first. “Do something, stretch, shake your legs out, do a little dance, anything to keep your body moving and loosened up. It could be the difference between second and first place…”
Lance coiled up into the blocks, taking one final breath, letting his anxiety bleed from his body. It was perfectly natural to be nervous, even useful, if that energy could be properly harnessed.
He could feel the wind blowing through the fields, his body adjusted to it naturally. Even a slight breeze could throw a runner off balance if the were not aware and prepared for the wind.
“Set…”
Lance shot his backside up into the air. It was something every runner Lance had ever known had smirked about doing during practice, but somehow it didn’t seem so silly when it came down to race time. The black, tar-like substance of the track stared up at him, and he could see the whole of the track in his mind. Every hurdle, every line was there in his brain.
“Go!” the ref yelled as the gunshot from the starter pistol pierced the air. What had seemed like forever had passed by in mere moments, and Lance knew that it was less than sixteen seconds from the pistol shot to the finish line.
As Lance raced out of the blocks, he could hear the cheers from the spectators and teammates as he flew by, pushing himself to run faster, to keep his stride, to not fail. He could feel the hurdles as he ran over the track.
The race was close, Lance could tell. He did not have to look, and wouldn’t have, even if he was compelled to do so, as it would break his stride and concentration. No, instead, he instinctively knew where the other runners were on the track. One had hit the first hurdle, which had then traveled into the path of the runner next to him. Both would be disqualified, for the runner who made the initial impact had hit more than the allotted amount of hurdles, and the second because he had instinctively side-stepped into another lane to avoid colliding with the flying red and white piece of plastic.
Lance always felt bad when that happened, as it wasn’t really the runner’s fault another person had knocked a hurdle into the lane, and all the runner did was step out of the lane to avoid injury.
It was coming down to the last moment, the final straight away after the last hurdle, where so many of the races were decided. It was between Lance and one other runner, who was from a rival school. Then again, when in high school, all of the schools were in hated rivalries.
It had been a split decision, as both runners had seemingly crossed the finish line at the exact same moment. They would have to wait for the official times, Lance figured, as he walked back to his designate spot at the finish line, struggling to catch his breath, his lungs burning from the sudden exertion.
An attractive young lady, who was a student from the hosting school’s female track team, had recorded Lance’s time. It was a fairly common practice to have the junior varsity members of the men’s team and members of the girl’s team work the various events of a meet. This particular girl was a red head and wore a tight pink tanktop that didn’t show off much in particular, but Lance silently appreciated the effort.
The girl read off what the stopwatch had recorded and told Lance that he had officially finished second.
It was the part of the race that Lance had always found unsettling, being timed by a person. The timing of the runner was done by people with stopwatches and it relied heavily on the visual acuity and reflexes of the person doing the timing. The timer pushing the stop button even a split second late meant the race for him, and it was always in Lance’s mind that he wondered if he had lost races due to this unaccountable human error.
He had also discovered that it was incredibly pointless to bring this fact up to anyone, as it was considered to be having ill will towards the most gracious host team to be thinking these types of thoughts.
Lance, out of breath and feeling angry at the outcome of the race, turned towards the inside of the track, congratulated the winning runner, and then trotted over to the starting line, where his warm-up clothes still laid.
“Lance, that was one hell of a race,” Coach Reynolds declared as he extended his arm. Lance reluctantly accepted the handshake, and then continued on towards his destination.
“Yeah, I know,” Lance said, avoiding eye contact with his coach.
“No, I mean it. You had him beat. We’ve gone through all of this before, and you know it’s not just you; all of the teams say the same thing when they’re at our school. Besides, you’re still closing in on that record,” Reynolds said.
It was true. If it hadn’t been for the previous season, Lance probably would’ve already been on the top of the records list for the schools, and probbly the state’s, high hurdles event. As it had been, he hadn’t been very far off.
“Now go get your sweat back on, and stay loose. We’re counting on you in the ‘lows’,” referring to the three hundred meter low hurdles event.
At almost a full lap around the track, Lance hated the race for the distance alone. He was not a strong distance runner to begin with, but throwing in hurdles, at any height, just seemed like sheer torture. Yet, it just so happened, that despite his displeasure for the event, Lance was actually pretty good at it. And, however grudgingly, was one of the few members of his track team to actually be willing to run in the event. His team needed the points, counted on them, and Lance always tried his best not to let his team down.
He turned away from his coach and trotted down the side of the field, still feeling disappointed in himself, knowing that it wasn’t entirely his fault. At least, he knew it in his own mind. Still, Lance was told that he was supposedly still on track to a record breaking season, and to even let anyone else finish close enough to him that it had held the outcome in dispute was just not good enough for him. He would come at the next race with a vengeance, he decided, leaving no room for such a dispute.
After gathering up and putting on his official team warm-up clothes, Lance decided that it’d be best for him to cool down by stretching somewhere out of the way of any other athlete. He found such a spot by the discus throwing field. As exciting as it was to hear how far some of these guys could throw that small Frisbee-like object, it was also equally boring to actually watch. As such, it was the perfect spot for Lance to momentarily wallow in his own self pity while stretching out his tightening muscles.
He didn’t much care for the sight of large teen males looking like they had to use the bathroom as they grunted and threw the discus out into the field, away from where Lance had chosen to sit down. It was quiet, aside from the occasional yelp of the thrower and the response of the distance being called out from an official in the field.
“Why do they always yell like that?” Lance asked himself, “Do they think it helps them throw further?”
Of course, why does anyone make a loud grunting noise whenever there is quick physical exertion? Lance thought. Is it really a natural reaction, or is it something we’re taught for dramatic effect? Lance did not really have an answer; it was just something to ponder as he went through his preprogrammed routine of cool down stretches.
He finished up his cool down exercises without thinking of too many more profound thoughts and stood up, grabbing onto the fence for balance, his back towards the throwers. He noted that he was probably a good two or three feet taller than the metal, chain-link fence, and wondered what real protection it would offer in the case of an errant discus.
As if in response to the thought, Lance heard the sound of crunching gravel, the usual grunt, and whiz of the discus as it flew through the air. No, it wasn’t the usual grunting noise, as he noted a hint of panic in the thrower’s voice. Something had gone wrong.
Before Lance could react, he heard a, “Look out!” come from behind him. Panic struck Lance as he started to twist around to see what was happening. He didn’t have time to react, but he felt something, the same something as the night before. A sort of tingling sensation as he noticed that the discus had struck him in the head, at least, it should have. Shimmering in the cool spring breeze were the same ripples in the air that had appeared around the gunshot the night before.
“Oh my god! Dude! Are you all right?” the discus thrower exclaimed as he rushed over to check on Lance. The teen was one Lance hadn’t recognized but had presumed was the thrower of the object that should have struck him. He looked like what Lance had expected, thought, being large and fairly muscular.
“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” Lance replied, feeling for lumps or gashes on his head, just to make sure what he said was true. He felt none, which he took as a good sign.
“That thing totally nailed you,” the thrower insisted, repeating what he knew to be true. “Are you sure you’re okay? ‘Cause I’ve seen it in movies where the guy gets hit, and he thinks he’s fine, but then his head falls off, like, right after.”
“Well, I don’t think that could happen from a discus, even if it had hit me, which it didn’t,” Lance replied. By this point, the other athletes and coaches from the throwing even had made their way over to Lance to make sure he was indeed all right.
“I didn’t see what happened, are you all right?” one of the coaches asked.
“I’m fine,” Lance said, offering his uninjured head as proof. “See? No damage done. The thing must have just missed me.”
The coaches all muttered a few words and the other athletes took verbal jabs at the thrower, who had already been worked up into a frenzy. He was sure the discus had hit the student athlete who stood in front of him.
He took another look at Lance, then at the discus, then back at Lance.
“Well, as long as you’re okay,” the thrower decided, before turning back to the field to complete his turn at the event.
Lance watched the teen walk away before beginning the trek back to his team’s bleachers. He let out a sigh of relief as he walked and kicked a stone as he remarked on how lucky he had just been.
“That was a close one,” he said to himself as he trotted along. He made his way back to the stands where his team had set up camp.
“Hey, man, where’d you go?” Ryan asked as Lance bounded up over the steps and benches that made up the bleachers.
“To cool off,” Lance replied.
“Eh, I know what you mean man. You were totally robbed out there,” Ryan said. “You just missed the excitement over at the throwers pit. It was some crazy shit. One of the throwers said he nailed another guy in the head. Best part is, the thrower said that it didn’t even affect the other guy. Crazy, huh?”
“Yeah, if it were true,” Lance said.
“What do you mean?” Ryan asked blankly. He obviously hadn’t heard that Lance was the ‘other guy’ that the thrower had claimed to have hit.
“I was the ‘other guy,’ Ryan, and the disk didn’t hit me, see,” Lance said, once again pointing to his head as evidence of a near miss. “Not a scratch on me.”
“Either that or your invincible, man,” Ryan laughed as he stood up. “Now come on, I’ve got a race to beat you in.” Lance sprang to his feet and the two walked back down the steps to the infield of the track, which, during the fall season was the football field, to warm up for the next hurdles race.
The loss in the high hurdles must have done something to Lance, as he finished first in the ‘lows,’ with Ryan at a respectable distance in second. The points the two earned helped push their team into the overall lead to win the meet for their school

It was on the bus ride home that Ryan decided to share with Lance the events that had transpired during the downtime between when school ended and when the team had boarded the bus.
“So…” Ryan said, interrupting the tranquil silence of the after-meet victory. He was obviously nervous about what he was about to say.
“So…?” Lance replied, breaking out of the trance that seemed to be a part of the bus ride home once the medals had been handed out. By that point, half the team had finally passed out from exhaustion, and Lance had been reveling in the silence.
Lance clutched his own medals tight in his fist; as if his grip loosened he might accidentally drop one. It was an odd habit, Lance knew, as he noticed his knuckles had turned white, but he still didn’t want to risk losing any of his medals.
“So…” Ryan repeated.
“Are you going to tell me you’re going to go out with my sister or not?” Lance replied as he turned the gold and silver medals over in his hands, the metal quietly clinking together.
“You know?” Ryan stammered out, the expression on his face was a mixture of surprise and fear.
“Well, you only act like this when you’re really nervous, and since you’re only this nervous because of girls, one in particular, it was either that or you’re coming onto me at a really awkward time,” Lance reasoned, the jovialness in his voice an attempt to ease the growing tension.
“You’re not mad?” Ryan asked sheepishly.
“Not nearly as mad as I’d be if I had to hear another day of that ‘does she like me?’ crap.”
“Ha, ha, yeah,” Ryan said, relieved. Lance leaned in closer, the only sound being the clinking of metal coming from the medals in Lance’s hand.
“Besides, if you ever hurt her, I will kill you…”
“Uh huh,” Ryan managed to spill out. He was now rethinking the situation that he had gotten himself into.
“And if you’re thinking of not going out with her at all, that does count as hurting her.”
Ryan shot up straight in his seat with a freaked out look on his face.
“Seriously man, how are you doing that?”
“It’s easy, you’re just that obvious.”
The rest of the bus ride home was silent as Lance contemplated all of the changes his life had suddenly gone through. He knew one thing was for certain, the previous night hadn’t just been a fluke. He was capable of something. He just wasn’t entirely sure of what yet.

“Hey big brother,” Eva greeted as Lance walked in the door. She was obviously excited about something, not knowing that Lance already had figured out why. “How’d it go tonight?”
Lance replied by plunking the two medals down onto the counter. Eva peered over at the gold and silver medals as Lance bent over to untie his shoes, making an over exaggerated groan as he kicked them off. He had walked back from the counter to the back door, where he normally kept any pairs of shoes he wasn’t wearing.
“Silver again, huh?” she commented. Lance started into the kitchen before Eva could say, “Mom doesn’t like it when you leave your shoes by the door, remember?”
Lance made a cross between a growl and a sigh to indicate that he was too tired to care.
“Oh,” Eva exclaimed, as though she had just remembered something of the utmost importance. “There’s something that I wanted to talk to you about.”
Lance cut her off, “I already know, and I already threatened him.”
“Uh, he is still taking me out though, right?” she asked, worried that her older brother had once again scared off a potential suitor. He had done so once before, as he had been brandishing a baseball bat in his hands when he answered the door for Eva’s very first date. Lance had found the whole thing to be hilarious; however, his parents had not.
“Yes, I made sure of that,” Lance grinned, remembering Ryan’s reaction on the bus ride back to school.
“What did you…no, wait, I don’t think I want to know,” Eva decided. “You’re not mad about it, are you?”
“How could I be? I’m the one who set it up,” Lance opened the refrigerator to his right and pulled out the plastic carton of milk. He opened the cupboard door to the left of the fridge and pulled out a glass. As he poured the milk, he looked over at Eva and offered her a glass.
“No, thanks,” she looked at him hopefully, “You’re really not mad?”
“I’m really not,” he replied. “I think I’m going upstairs now.” He took the glass of milk in one hand, and, with the other he slung his backpack over his shoulder.
He felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket as he trudged up the stairs. The caller ID read that it was Keri, so he flipped the phone open.
“Hey, hun, I was just about to call you,” Lance said. Keri was probably at home, waiting impatiently for his call.
“I know, but I figured I’d call first,” Keri replied sweetly.
“How’d you know I’d be home and not driving, where answering your call would’ve led to my horrible, horrible death?” he asked. Lance entered his room, careful not to spill his milk, and closed the door behind him.
“Stop it! Don’t talk like that,” Keri pleaded. Lance joked about his own death frequently, much to Keri’s dismay, “and you wouldn’t have picked up if you were.”
“True,” Lance admitted. “So, I missed you at the meet tonight.”
In all honesty, he probably wouldn’t have noticed if Keri had even been there, but he knew for sure that she hadn’t been.
“I’m sorry. None of the other girlfriends were going either,” Keri explained. Lance knew that wasn’t entirely true, but it might have well been.
“That’s not true,” Lance persisted.
“Well, no one went that I wanted to be stuck going down there with,” Keri reasoned. That was true, as most people did not get along with the girlfriend that had driven out to the track meet. She did it to talk up her boyfriend, Kyle, and to put down the other athletes.
“Not even to see me in all of my short-shorts glory?” Lance teased.
“Hun…” Keri pleaded.
“I know, I know, no one likes her. I hear the only reason Kyle puts up with her at all is because she puts out something fierce,” he joked. Actually, the rumors Lance had heard were that she did put out, just not always with Kyle. And not always with men. That little tidbit was probably one of the only reasons that Kyle even stayed with his girlfriend, as it was essential part to every teenaged guy’s greatest fantasy.
“Is that the only reason you stay with me?” Keri asked sweetly, knowing what the answer would be.
“Considering the fact that we, y’know, haven’t…done that. I would say that’s a definite no,” Lance stated.
“So, what? You’re saying is that after the first time we make love, you’re going to leave me?” she asked. Lance couldn’t tell if she was joking or not, and that worried him.
“Yes, the first time that we do it, I’m going to finish up, look deep into your eyes, and say, ‘That was okay.” Then, I’m going to open your window and just crawl out, never to be seen again,” Lance said just as dryly and sarcastically as he could.
“Ha, ha, hun,” Keri replied, equally sarcastic. Though, the mental image of the perfect night with candles and soft music only to be interrupted by a statement of inadequacy and Lance’s naked form slinking out an open window did emit a chuckle from both Lance and Keri.
“So, anyways…” Keri said, as she tried to change the subject.
“Anyway,” Lance corrected. “There is no‘s’.”
“Anyway, how’d you do?” she asked, using Lance’s correction.
Lance relayed the day’s event with Keri’s usual replies of acknowledgement. He left out the part about getting his by the discus, as he knew he wouldn’t be able to explain it away logically.
“Robbed again, huh?”
“Yeah…”
“Why don they, I don’t know, get people besides the home team to do the timing?”
“Well, that’d be inconvenient, I suppose, and to hire an impartial group of timers would cost money. Most of the schools’ programs are squeaking by as it is. So, I suppose, that this is probably the best way,” Lance concluded. He didn’t like it, but there didn’t seem to be any use in dwelling on it, especially since he had something much more important to deal with at that moment.
The two teens discussed their days and made sweet small talk before Lance unexpectedly blurted out, “Oh, by the way. My little sister is now going out with my best friend.”
“Oh,” was all Keri could say at first. She was totally shocked by the news. “He finally asked her out, huh?”
“Yeah, but only because I told him to,” Lance explained. He still wasn’t happy with it, but he again realized that he had a much bigger problem that required his attention. After awhile, Lance looked at the clock and said, “It’s late, and I still have homework I have to get done.”
After Keri grudgingly said goodbye and Lance did the same, he snapped shut his cell phone and got up off of his bed.
“Okay,” he said to himself. “This has happened twice in two days now. So, how am I doing it?”
He scrounged around his room for something he could use a projectile, as the both objects he had magically deflected had been stuff flying at him.
Lance scooped up a yellow-green tennis ball, concentrated as hard as he could on blocking the ball, and threw the ball as hard as he could against the wall. He prayed for the best as he squeezed shut his eyes.
The tennis ball connected with a loud thump against Lance’s forehead.
This got Lance to thinking that maybe it wasn’t him that was stopping stuff in mid-air, that maybe it was someone around him that kept saving his life. But, as far as Lance could tell, there hadn’t been anyone else around the night before, especially not someone who would have also been at the track meet.
So, it probably is me. I just don’t know how to control it yet. Lance thought as he threw the ball against the wall again. I can work on that…hopefully.
The ball bounced back and nailed Lance in the shin. It didn’t hurt too much, but the repeated strikes against his flesh were starting to cause bruises.
He decided to give it one more try and launched the ball against the wall. It unexpectedly shot right back towards the most sensitive area on a man’s body. Without time to react, Lance knew that it was going to hurt. But the ball never reached its destination, as it bounced harmlessly away from him. The now familiar ripples in the air were visible right in front of his groin.
“Hm? Well, that’s something,” Lance said, as he had successfully triggered whatever it was that was protecting him. “Every time I panic, this thing kicks in and saves me.”
There was a tingle in his body, Lance found, as he tried to relax. It had been there every time Lance saved himself from harm. The feeling went away after a moment, and Lance was left wondering if he could somehow replicate it.
I don’t even know which muscle to flex, he thought as he tried hard to concentrate, but he couldn’t get that feeling back, and he didn’t want to risk hitting himself in the crotch, so he gave up.
“Well, that’s enough for tonight,” he said aloud as he got ready for bed. His mind was racing with ideas of how he might be able to control his newfound ability. As he settled into bed, he thought, So what? In extreme cases I can protect myself from serious injury? What can I possibly do with that?
Lance couldn’t imagine that in the hours of his sleep that question would be answered for him.