User:Xepscern/Jeremy 3

Jeremy looked at the sink of dirty dishes, still trying to piece together what happened today. Every afternoon after school, Jeremy washed the dishes from the night before. Usually a monotonous chore, Jeremy was thankful of it today, as it allowed his mind to focus on what was important.

After Sarah took Jeremy back to his current time, he demonstrated his powers to Monty. Monty congratulated him, in a tone Jeremy now realized wasn’t in line with usual calm, charismatic speech. Monty was surprised seeing Jeremy float in the air an inch, and Jeremy now saw how he seemed almost giddy with excitement.

When the demonstration was over, the three of them told Jeremy what their plan was for him. All he would do once a week, during the school lunch, would meet them in the parking lot, where they would transport him to a facility to train his powers. With Sarah’s powers of time manipulation, Jeremy didn't need to worry about being absent for too long.

Jeremy mulled the conversation he had with Monty over and over again.

”Train?”

”While your extraordinary now, we need to test your limits. Think of your power like a muscle. The more you use it, the better you are with it. You'll be able to fly faster, longer, need less concentration to maintain altitude. We won't strain you to the point of exhaustion, I promise.”

“Will I change from this?”

“Yes, physically. Don’t worry, you won't grow wings or anything. With your power being physical, your whole body will tone up the more you fly. You will notice muscle growth.” 

Half way done with the dishes, Jeremy heard his brother come home from track practice.

“How was practice,” Jeremy asked.

“It was alright,” Dylan said, grabbing a water bottle from the refrigerator. “It was nice and cool outside, didn't get too hot and smelly from running.”

“You call this ‘not too smelly’?”

“Hey, you remember summer. I practiced so hard, I came home smelling like that liquid at the bottom of a dumpster.”

Jeremy shook his head. “Only you would brag about smelling like garbage sludge.”

Dylan shrugged, and finished his water bottle. “You thought about joining the track team yet?”

“As much as it would be fun to achieve the smell of trash juice, I'll decline your offer once again, Dylan.”

“You sure? It might help you lose some of this weight.” Dylan leaned in, his tone changing to more serious and hushed. “Plus it would get dad off your back.”

“You know that's not true,” Jeremy said back in the same tone. “Dad is… he's a dickhead. He's never given me a break. So why bother.”

“Okay...” Dylan said. “By the way, Dad will be home all day Saturday. So better find yourself something else to do.” Dylan left the kitchen, the sound of him running upstairs following.

Not wanting to think about the possibility of spending all day with his loving father tomorrow, Jeremy’s brain went back to Monty, his mind now hung on the last minutes of their conversation.

“By the way, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly is your power?”

“Oh, where are my manners? I'm so sorry, usually I lead with this. I am a telepath.”

“So… you can read my mind?”

“Oh, now, don't worry. I need to be touching the person to establish a link to their mind. All your secrets are safe with you.”

“Oh, that's good, I guess.”

“That being said, I don't need to link to your mind to know what you're thinking. You're scared. You're nervous. You have no idea what's to come. Trust me, we've been there. None of us are psychological experts, but we are here to help with this change. Because you're about to become something more.”

“What do you mean?”

“Right now, we have ten documented cases of people with these special abilities. You are number eleven. Now, don't tell any of them, but I see more potential in you than any of us. You now have power, Jeremy. You are powerful.” 

Jeremy heard the door open, it slamming against the near wall. Knowing what was bound to happen, Jeremy’s body immediately tensed, ready to face any verbal assault.

“You're not done with the dishes yet?”

Jeremy’s dad’s voice was loud and brash, always sounding confrontational.

“I'm almost done. Just these last two plates, Dad.”

Jeremy’s father walked up to the drying rack, examining the clean dishes.

“Not a spot on these! I guess you are good for something! You'd make some fag a terrific wife.”

Jeremy didn't respond. He had no idea how to.

“Hey! Laugh! Aren't my jokes funny?”

“Oh, sorry, I didn't hear you,” Jeremy lied. “I was trying to get the sticky stuff from this plate off. What did you say?”

“God, nevermind.”

Jeremy’s father grabbed one of the clean plates from the rack and made himself a sandwich. Jeremy prayed that his father would leave after making his snack, and go to the living room to leave him alone.

Jeremy’s father say at the kitchen table, plate and open beer in hand.

“So what are your plans this weekend?”

“Oh, I don't know. Cassie and me might go see a movie.”

“What movie?”

Jeremy realized what he was doing. “There's this new movie that so far every single review has hated, so we’re going to go and make fun of it.”

His father made a condescending face. “Why go to a movie if you know it will be bad That's stupid.”

“We have fun.”

His father sighed in disgust. “Yo and your friend need to get a life. All you do is sit around and eat junk food, and all she does is cut herself to seek attention.”

The last words hit Jeremy the hardest. Cassie suffered from depression, and did indeed harmed herself a few years ago. Since then, thanks to an antidepressant prescription, Jeremy noticed Cassie became happier, and wasn't afraid of her ending her life suddenly. That being said, however, Jeremy was always sensitive whenever anyone brought that up about her.

A fact his father knew.

“Look, Jeremy, I'm sorry I'm a dickhead,” Jeremy’s father said, beginning a half-hearted apology. “I just don't want you around those kind of people, okay? Look, I had a long day. I'm just in a bad place, okay?”

Jeremy was unfazed, having heard this story already this week.

“I love you.”

Jeremy didn't believe him.

“I love you, too, dad.”

Jeremy didn't believe himself.

His father finished his sandwich, put the plate in the sink to be rewashed, and room his half finished beer into the den.

Relieved, Jeremy washed the plate his father just used, with Monty’s last words hanging on his head.

”You are powerful.”

At this moment, despite his new found gift, Jeremy felt powerless.