The morning light streamed through Kevin's window, pulling him from his deep sleep. His body felt heavier than usual, as though the energy he'd unleashed the night before had taken more of a toll than he realized. He groaned, rubbing his face, and sat up slowly.
For a moment, he thought it had all been a dream. The power station, the surge of energy, the glowing veins—none of it seemed real. But then his eyes fell on the scorched hoodie draped over his desk chair, the faint smell of burnt fabric still lingering in the air.
It was real.
Kevin's heart raced as the memories flooded back, his mind spinning with the possibilities. He needed to know more—what had happened to him, what he was capable of, and whether it could be controlled.
At school, everything felt... different. Kevin noticed the world in ways he hadn't before. The chatter of students in the hallway seemed sharper, each voice distinct. His classmates' movements looked slower, as if they were operating at half speed. Even the smells of the cafeteria food wafting through the air were more pronounced.
He clenched his fists, willing himself to focus.
The morning passed uneventfully until chemistry class. Kevin had never been great at science, but today, the lesson on energy transfer and conductivity felt strangely relevant. He found himself leaning forward, hanging on every word.
"Electricity flows through conductors because of free-moving electrons," the teacher explained, sketching a diagram on the board. "Metals like copper are excellent conductors because their atomic structure allows for easy movement of these electrons."
Kevin couldn't help but wonder: Am I a conductor now? Is that why this energy flows through me?
Lost in thought, he barely noticed when the teacher called his name.
"Kevin? Can you answer the question?"
He blinked, his cheeks flushing. "Uh, sorry, could you repeat it?"
The teacher raised an eyebrow but repeated the question. Kevin mumbled a half-hearted answer, earning a few snickers from the back of the room. He sank lower in his seat, determined not to draw any more attention.
By the time gym class rolled around, Kevin's unease had morphed into anticipation. After the previous day's success, he was eager—and a little nervous—to see if the strange abilities would return.
"Alright, everyone," Coach Bradley announced, "we're running a timed mile today. No complaints. Line up at the track."
The class groaned collectively, but Kevin's stomach flipped with excitement. As they took their places on the starting line, he focused on the energy within him, trying to summon it.
The whistle blew, and Kevin took off.
For the first few steps, he held back, pacing himself with the others. But as his confidence grew, he let loose. His legs moved effortlessly, each stride carrying him farther and faster than he'd ever gone before. The wind whipped against his face, the track beneath him a blur.
He crossed the finish line before anyone else had completed their first lap.
"Whoa, Kevin!" Sam shouted from the sidelines. "What are you, part cheetah?"
The coach stared, stopwatch in hand, his jaw slightly open.
Kevin tried to play it cool, shrugging as he caught his breath. "I guess I had a good day."
But the whispers started almost immediately. His classmates exchanged incredulous glances, and he could feel their eyes on him for the rest of the period.
That evening, Kevin couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. He walked home with his hood up, his senses heightened. Every passing car felt suspicious, every rustle of leaves made him tense.
When he reached his house, he bolted the door behind him and went straight to his room. Pulling the notebook he'd started using to log his experiments, Kevin jotted down everything he could remember from the day: the speed, the heightened senses, the energy.
But one question loomed larger than the rest: How far can this go?
As he closed the notebook, his phone buzzed with a text from Sam:
"Park tomorrow, 5 PM. You in?"
Kevin hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. If he kept showing what he could do, people would notice—people who might ask questions he wasn't ready to answer.
But something inside him craved the challenge, the thrill of pushing his limits.
"Yeah, I'll be there."
He hit send, the decision made. Whatever was happening to him, Kevin knew one thing for sure: he couldn't hide from it forever.
****************************************************************
The next day after school, Kevin found himself at the park, gripping the straps of his backpack nervously as he approached the basketball court. A group of kids was already there, including Sam, who waved him over.
"There's our star player!" Sam called out, tossing a basketball in Kevin's direction.
Kevin caught it reflexively, the ball feeling almost weightless in his hands. "Hey," he said, trying to sound casual.
The game started quickly, and Kevin decided to hold back this time. He played conservatively, passing more than shooting, trying not to draw too much attention. But even then, his natural agility and speed couldn't be hidden. He dodged defenders effortlessly and made precise passes that had Sam and the others cheering.
"Come on, Kevin!" Sam shouted during a fast break. "Show us that magic from gym class!"
Kevin hesitated, but the teasing and encouragement from the sidelines got to him. He pushed forward, dribbling past two players with ease before jumping for a layup. His speed carried him higher than he intended, and he had to adjust mid-air to avoid slamming into the backboard.
The ball swished cleanly through the hoop, and the court erupted in cheers.
"Dude, that was sick!" Sam exclaimed, running over to clap him on the back.
Kevin smiled awkwardly, trying to hide his unease. His performance had drawn even more attention, with kids from nearby courts stopping their games to watch.
After a few more rounds, Kevin excused himself, claiming he needed water. He jogged over to a bench and sat down, his heart pounding—not from exertion, but from the anxiety of almost exposing himself again.
As he sipped from his water bottle, he noticed someone watching him from across the park. It was a man in a dark jacket, leaning casually against a lamppost. At first, Kevin thought he was imagining it, but when he glanced up again, the man was still there, his gaze fixed firmly on him.
Kevin's stomach tightened. Who is that?
"Yo, Kevin! You good?" Sam's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Yeah," Kevin replied, forcing a smile. "Just catching my breath."
But as he rejoined the game, he couldn't shake the feeling that the man was still watching—and that somehow, he knew.