We Can Do This

I can do this.

A mantra I’ve been chanting for hours, but still don’t firmly believe. I volunteered to run the bake sale at my high school fundraising event at the local park. This shouldn’t be a hard task, but I wasn’t blessed with an extroverted personality.

“Becky!” my best friend calls me out from beneath the crowd. Her long brown hair is pulled up in a messy bun that is bouncing all over the place as she jogs towards me.

“You know I prefer Rebekah, Sam.”

“Anyways,” she continues knowing we have this conversation weekly. “I just spotted Rhett over by the dart game. Didn’t you sign up for that booth?”

“No. I mean, I did, until he signed up for it too.”

“Because he likes you! I’m telling you!”

I sigh, defeated. “You know why I can’t run a booth with him.”

Samantha rolls her eyes and picks up a pack of chocolate chip cookies and hands me two dollars. “Hiding over here isn’t going to lessen the risk of your powers coming to fruition.”

“I love how you use big words to try to be more like me, but I’m not sure you used it correctly.”

“Pssht. I still feel smarter for it.”

I hand her fifty cents back for change and she grins. I’ve always been the so-called nerd of our friendship. Samantha is more of the jock’s girlfriend type, which is exactly what I want to be. She has no interest in Rhett, but I’ve had a crush on him since the fourth grade. He excels at every sport he plays: soccer, baseball, football, even kickball. Last year during freshman gym class, the teacher asked me to roll the ball. Against my better judgment, I did. It was Rhett’s turn to kick. My nerves already felt like rocks on my chest- throw in my crush, eyes on me as I prepared to roll the ball and you get what I call a build-up of energy. Energy that in my case is turned into power. That’s right- nervousness fulls my powers. Go figure. Some people are bitten by radioactive spiders or fall into radioactive goo and are blessed with amazing powers, but I can only harness my power when I’m frightened or nervous.

When I rolled the ball to Rhett, it flew down the grass so fast I was afraid it singed the grass as it rolled, but it didn’t. Rhett locked his ankle as he kicked the ball. It flew through the air and landed in the trees past the other end of the football field- at least 120 yards away!

Almost everyone cheered with flabbergasted looks across many of my classmates' faces. Thankfully, they gave all the praise to the All-Star and not to the ‘nerd’. I was grateful this happened when Rhett kicked the ball rather than with someone else who would have been less believable.

After Rhett ran across home plate, he walked up to me with his hand raised. “That was awesome, Rebekah!” His beautiful, wide, white-teethed smile is still etched in my mind from that moment. 

My hand met his in the air as they clapped together in a high-five. “Thanks.” My pale-skinned turned lobster red in that instant, I’m sure of it.

“Do you have water?”

I snap out of my reverie, my heart pounding at the pleasant memory. I still would never have washed my hand if I wasn’t such a clean freak.

“Uh. Yeah.” I smile a little too big. I catch myself and try to contain my enthusiasm as Rhett’s dark brown eyes flicker back at me.

“Can I have two please?” 

He’s such a gentleman for the jock stereotype. He continues to stare at me and it dawns on me that I’m not moving. “Oh! Of course!” I’m so awkward.

I can feel his eyes on me as I reach under the table for two bottles of water out of the cooler. When I stand up, he’s still smiling at me which makes me smile again too. 

“That’s two dollars,” I tell him.

Rhett hands me two one-dollar bills. I reach out to take them and my fingers shake nervously beneath his. He doesn’t release the bills right away as if he wants to feel my hand holding his. Is this what flirting feels like or am I just imagining things?

Rhett smiles as he releases the bills. After putting the money in the cash box, I hand him the waters, one in each hand. He takes one and waves off the other. “Please take the other. We’re going to be busy today.”

“Thanks,” I smile shyly. 

He looks down, his lips pressed firmly in a thin line. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah.” The corner of my mouth curls up into a half-smile. There, I did it. I contained myself.

Rhett nods and walks back to his booth.

“See! Nothing bad happened!” Samantha popped out from nowhere and is now standing at my side.

I reach for my chest, “Where did you come from?”

“Maybe you’re not the only one with powers, Re-bek-ah,” she grins as she accentuates my name. “Now I know why you prefer your full name.”

“Why?” I ask sheepishly.

“Because it sounds good when he says it.”

I playfully push Samantha away. She laughs as she steps back, but when she looks up at me, her smile diminishes. “Your eyes!”

“No,” I worry. “Are they blue-blue?”

“Your eyes are always blue! But yes, they are that blue,” she says with added concern.

My eyes are naturally dark blue, but when I build up some of that energy I mentioned, they turn a vibrant ice blue.

“Do you need to leave? I can watch your table,” Samantha offers.

I shake my head. “No, I have to learn to handle situations like this.”

“Are you sure? I don’t have to report to the dunk tank until noon.”

“I can do this.” I assume if I repeat the words out loud, they’ll become true.

I’ve only just come into my powers one year ago. Just weeks actually before the kickball incident, I was laying on a hospital bed preparing to have my tonsils removed. I got strep throat several times back-to-back, so my ENT doctor decided my tonsils needed to be removed. I remember being so scared. I had never been under anesthesia before and had no idea what to expect. The doctor asked me to envision my paradise and shortly after thinking about the waves reaching my toes and the gentle Florida beach winds blowing through my blonde hair, I was asleep.

When I woke, I could feel a lot of tension in the air. My mom was talking with her hands with two nurses. The only words I could make out were ‘power outage’. Before I went back to surgery, they had to make sure I had removed all of my jewelry because of the electrical current that would be present in burning the tissues in my throat. I thought something bad happened like I lost a finger because I missed taking a ring off and the metal got too hot. I was still groggy when I lifted my arm- still attached to a bunch of cords. I checked each finger where I removed rings from, and all were fine.

At that time, my mom noticed I was waking up and rushed over to my bed. “Awe honey. How are you feeling? Do you feel okay?”

“Yeah, I feel fine. I’m just tired. Can I go back to sleep?” I told her.

“No, honey. You need to wake up more. As soon as you get up to walk and go to the bathroom, we can go home.” She was so urgent in her desire to leave and get back home.

When we arrived home, my mother still babied me, making sure I was okay. “Do you want some applesauce or an ice pop?”

“I’ll take a strawberry ice pop mom,” I whispered as I stood at the bottom of the stairs that led to my room. 

Once there, I kicked off my shoes and slid into bed. I just wanted to sleep more. My mom brought up the ice pop with the end cut off and I pushed some of the ice out just enough that I could lick the end. I wasn’t hungry or thirsty, but I figured it would get my mom off my back a little if she felt like she was helping.

My mom pulled the bed sheet up to my waist as I leaned against the headboard. “You sure nothing else hurts, Honey? Just your throat?” 

“Yes, mom. Why?” I asked as I bit off a tiny piece of the ice and sucked out the flavor.

She looked down as she brushed her hand over the comforter.

“Mom? Did something happen?” I urged her to speak to me.

She looked up at me, the corners of her mouth created dimples, and her brows buried into her forehead. “The doctor-” She stopped as something caught in her throat. “The doctor-” She couldn’t continue.

“Mom, please tell me.”

“He said that the power cut out while they were removing your tonsils. The generator didn’t kick on.”

“Am I okay?”

She nodded un-convincingly. “The procedure went fine. They were able to finish. But when the power went out briefly, the doctor said it scared one of the new nurses and she spilled some type of liquid on your hands. The doctor dropped the tool on your hands and it caused a fire.”

I looked at my hands surprised. “But they look fine.”

“Yes. It could be nothing, Honey. It’s just that when the doctor picked up the cauterizing tool off your hand, your heart rate went through the roof.”

“What does that mean?”

“He couldn’t explain it. It just worries me. You hear all these stories about how surgeries go wrong and it could have easily happened to you. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I am, Mom. I feel fine. Minus the slight pain in my throat and the incredible urge to sleep.”

“It’s okay, Dear. Go to sleep.”

My mom was all ‘Honey’ and ‘Dear’ for a week making sure I didn’t experience any type of supernatural effects from the surgery. She watches too many movies. 

Ironically, I did notice signs of effects from the power outage during surgery that very same night. For some reason, any time I was scared or nervous- anything that elevated my heart rate- including running, made my eyes turn ice blue and my fingers feel numb and tingly.

Within the first few days after the tonsillectomy, a noise startled me in the backyard and I threw a stick so far that I didn’t see it land. I also squeezed a silicone spatula when I tried scooping up cookies I accidentally burnt and left finger-sized grooves in the handle. I had to throw it away so that my mom didn’t wonder how that happened.

This is my curse and my blessing- I suppose. I’m able to harness energy from my raised heart rate in my hands to throw farther or bend materials I wouldn’t normally be able to bend. 

I haven’t figured out yet how this is supposed to be a superpower, but it’s not natural. I just wish it came in handy for good rather than helping my crush kick a ball further than anyone has ever seen.

“I can do this.” My nerves are calmer now as I take a seat on a folded chair a few feet back from the table. The crowd is picking up now since we opened a half-hour ago. No one should have melted cookies or warm water so long as I can not be frightened or nervous about anything else today. What else could excite me watching a bake sale booth?

“Miss Benson.”

I spoke too soon. Mr. Barnhart is walking with purpose, eyes glued on me.

“What’s the matter?” I stand and ask as he stops in front of my booth.

“Where are Olivia and Miles?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about Mr. Barnhart.”

“The other two sophomores that are supposed to be manning this booth with you. You can’t be here by yourself. It’s only a matter of seconds before you’ll be overwhelmed by hungry patrons.”

Mr. Barnhart is my English teacher, adamant about raising as much money as possible for the school through this fundraiser because he wants new books. He hasn’t stopped talking about it for weeks.

“I’m fine-” I barely get the words out, before half a dozen middle school-aged kids storm the table, immediately followed by several younger kids fingering all of the homemade candy in baskets at the far end of the table.

Mr. Barnhart scurries around the table and faces the side of my face as I stare ahead in disbelief that fellow students would act this barbaric over sweets. 

“Handle this. I will find you help.” With that, he hurried off, arms brushing his sides swiftly as he walked away.

I could feel my chest tighten as everyone started talking at once, shoving dollar bills in my face. 

“Please! One person at a time!” I waved my hands for everyone to calm down. I was slightly more strict than I intended, but it worked. All eyes stare at me with surprise. Some of the younger kids have their mouths hanging open.

It’s not until I see Rhett and Mr. Barnhart standing behind the Barbarians that I realize they aren’t surprised I yelled at them, but are surprised at something else.

Rhett pushes aside the two middle school boys standing in front of me and leans in to speak to me so they can’t hear. “Your hands are on fire,” he whispers.

“What?” I look down at my hands and wispy ice blue flames are glowing from my palms. I make tight fists and the glow diminishes.

“How did you do that?” His voice changes from concerned to curious.

“Magic trick everyone!” I yell nervously. “Be right back!”

I do a quick half-bow and walk quickly away from the booth. I look over my shoulder to see Mr. Barnhart accepting the student’s money for their snacks. They all act like everything is normal and skip back to whatever they were doing before.

Rhett follows after me. “That wasn’t a magic trick, Rebekah. Was it?”

I stop in the middle of a crowd and look him square in the eyes. He looks at me and his eyebrow twitches. “You have the most gorgeous eyes.” As soon as he says it I look away.

“Seriously,” he says, taking his hand and gently pulling my chin back to face him. “They change colors so quickly.”

“And you don’t think that’s odd?” I’m not nervous when I look into his eyes now. At this moment, I feel calm because of him.

“No,” he answers matter-of-factly. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“Well, it’s not exactly natural.”

“How not?”

I hold up my palms and stare into them. No flames. No blue. No nothing. How do I explain to him what happens to me?

Before I can speak up, an older student, probably a senior runs through the now broken crowd and jumps into the air right in front of me. He looks away, catches a football in the air, and lands on top of me, throwing me to the ground. 

He stands up quickly, looks down at me on the ground, and laughs. “Oops. My bad.” He starts to run back towards where the football was thrown when Rhett grabs the back of his shirt.

“What the hell man?” 

The senior whips around quickly to face Rhett. “What’s your problem, Rhett?”

“You’re not going to apologize?” Rhett extends a hand and helps me to my feet. My side hurts where he fell on me, but otherwise, I’m fine.

“It’s okay, Rhett. I’m fine,” I say, trying to dismiss the obvious discourtesy of the older student. 

“It’s not fine and he needs to apologize!” Rhett steps closer to the senior, his brows buried and his face red, but that’s not all that’s red. His hands are red too! The same ghostly flames that were glowing from my hands are now wisping around Rhett’s hands- only they are red and not blue.

“Rhett!” I holler to him. He turns back around quickly, his eyes also red. “He’s not worth it.” My voice is barely over a whisper.

He continues to stare into my eyes that are most likely ice blue at this point. As he’s looking at me, I see the senior run away while Rhett isn’t looking.

Rhett catches my gaze and turns back to see him running away. For a second, I think he’s going to run after him, but he doesn’t. He lowers his hands, making fists out of them to quench the flames. He doesn’t turn around right away and I can only imagine him calming himself at this moment.

I touch his shoulder and he jerks as if he was surprised I’m still here.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, turning around to face me.

I smile as I reach for his hands. “I guess we’re not so different?”

He smiles, his eyes now the same gorgeous brown I’ve crushed on since the fourth grade.

“How did yours happen?” I ask referring to his powers.

“Tonsillectomy. Last year,” he responds.

I drop his hands in disbelief. “Me too.”

“I wonder if there’s anyone else like us.”

“Maybe. Let’s just hope that their trigger isn’t anger.” I wink at him.

He folds his arms in front of him. “Well, I hope there aren’t more fueled by fear, or else we could have a real situation on our hands come finals.”

I laugh as Rhett takes my hand and leads me back to the games.

“Do you want to check out the dunk tank?” he asks looking at me.

“Yes,” I grin. “We can do this.”