Chapter 7 "Normal"
Most people that have a normal life say they want something more. People who don't live ordinary ones say they wish they did. Maybe the thing is that we want both. We all want to have an amazing story to tell about ourselves, but keep a peaceful life. That's almost an impossible thing to have.
- Michael Mules, Journal Entry
Going back to a regular life was nearly unbearable. Michael felt like he was in a prison, not being able to jump the way he could or use the high extent of his senses like he knew was possible.
But he had to, or he could end up attacked like in the alley or lose another half day of his memory, or something worse could occur next.
The only thing that was making him feel like any bit of his real self was Wendy. It surprised Michael how quickly she had become an important part of his life. They now spent most of their free time together. She would now even come to his house for dinner, since she usually ate out.
"My parents keep saying you're the type of girl they'd like for me," he told her one day at school during lunch. "And my sisters keep saying it's about time that I brought one home."
She looked down at her tray of food to hide her wide grin; smiling had now become an ordinary thing for her. "I wonder how they'd feel if I had come in my old dark-dreary form," she remarked.
"I wasn't even going to bring that up," Michael admitted. "What happened with that look?"
After darting her eyes around, Wendy answered, "I was never really a makeup girl and I missed the sun. I'm really just a plain and simple type of person."
"I like plain and simple."
They would have had another minute of awkward silence and stares, only a milk then carton flew to their table, and onto Wendy's tray. Small drops of milk also spilled onto her food.
"Nice one," someone said jeeringly in a low tone, but Michael heard it quite clearly. He looked over to one of the tables at the far side of the lunch area where a group of guys had been looking at them until Michael looked their way.
"This is exactly why I quit eating lunch here sophomore year," Wendy remarked. She began lowering her body down behind the table, her cheerful mood seeming a bit diminished.
In his ears, Michael could hear a bit of chuckling coming from that same group of students that he had eyed. Without a thought, he grabbed the thrown milk carton and started walking down the series of tables towards them.
In the table next to them, Mark was with his usual group of friends and saw Michael as he walked passed his table. When he reached his destination, the one sitting on the top of the table stared at him with the same evasive look as the smoking student, Carl. That had gone well, if Michael thought to remember.
"What's up?" he asked Michael casually.
He held the milk carton forward. "You missed the trash can," he said in the same casual tone.
The guy looked at the milk carton, and then to him, frowning. "Go ahead and throw it, then."
Don't start forcefully, he said in his head.
"It's yours, so you should do it."
"You're the one who cares." This time the guy sounded irritated.
Behind him, Wendy walked up rather hesitantly. Michael nodded over his shoulder to her. "So the fact that your trash fell on her food doesn't concern you?"
The guy shrugged. "It wasn't my fault she was eating there. Why don't the two of you just get over it, already?"
Rubbing at the back of his neck, Michael took the time to come up with the right response, chirping his teeth.
"I've seen you around. You're a junior right?" He nodded. "Well within a year, you'll be going into the real world and that immature behavior isn't going to get you very far."
Now this guy came off the table, approached Michael within inches. His snaring eyes showing that he was expecting a fight, his slow and fast heart thumping, indicating the same.
"Thanks for the lecture, but your knight-in-shinning-armor thing isn't entertaining anymore," he scowled. "It's just annoying."
In his mind, Michael could see the various things he could do to this guy, but he also thought about the person or people watching him, possibly waiting for him to do something with his abilities. Then he thought of prom being a day away and his graduation in a month. He didn't want to endanger any of that.
His free hand stayed into a fist for only seconds. Instead he reached out and grabbed the guy's hand and put the milk carton on it.
"This is my last month in school," he said to the surprised junior. "Just help me make it a good last month by pretending to be a respectful classmate."
They met stare-to-stare, neither one willing to fall back. Several of the closer tables of students were watching them with immense interest. Michael could hear their hearts beating in joint anticipation.
The guy's heart then started calming down. He finally broke contact with Michael's eyes and walked over to the trash can and tossed the milk carton into it. He looked back to him and raised his arms as if saying, there, you happy?
Nodding in thanks, Michael turned and started back to his table with Wendy right behind him.
A girl at one of the nearby tables clapped for a moment to Michael. Mark called out to him as he passed his table. "That was inspiring, Michael," he said.
Only glancing back at him for a quick moment, he replied, "Yeah and also thanks for coming to have my back, like Wendy and not just watch like everybody else."
He continued through the tables, leaving Mark a bit taken aback by his comment.
After school had ended, Michael had not felt like going home, so he and Wendy stayed outside of the school, and just sat and talked on the steps to the front entrance.
"So what was with that thing you said to Mark?" she finally got the nerve to asked. "You looked as angry at him as you were at the one who threw the milk carton."
"Look, he was just never a good friend," Michael said bluntly. "I've told you that."
They were silent for minute or two, Wendy being unsure of what to say after Michael basically disowned Mark as a friend. He had come to not even talk to him, though if what Michael said was true, Wendy wondered if Mark even noticed it.
"You don't even care about trying to tell him this?" She hoped that this wasn't pushing the subject for him.
"We're guys, we don't open up emotionally to each other unless we're dying or something," Michael explained.
Boys, why did they have to be so sheltered? Wendy supposed that was one of the great mysteries.
"So then I guess it's just you and me on this."
"Well I haven't heard back from Doctor Suresh." Michael sounded clearly worried about the Indian geneticist. Other than Wendy, he was the only other person Michael could depend on with this.
"What if the same people who made me forget that night, and who also attacked me at the warehouse did something to him too?"
That was a theory they couldn't ignore. Michael was pretty much convinced of it out. Wendy, however, had a new theory she had to put out there.
"What if Doctor Suresh is the one behind this?" she finally said. "He's the only other person that supposedly knows about you. He could be fooling you."
Michael shook his head at this. "No, you didn't meet him. The guy just wants to help me, and he wouldn't do that. I showed him what I could do; he didn't have to pull these sorts of stunts."
"Okay, if you say so."
"I know so," he reassured her.
Still, Wendy knew that whoever was behind this was still lurking out there. With this unknown force stalking and attacking Michael, Wendy felt that he needed someone to have his back now more than ever
This would be exactly what she would do.
"Let just not talk about right now, okay," he suggested rather sorely.
"Right. We just keep everything ordinary - normal." A few seconds later, Wendy added, "Whatever that is for us."
Michael's lip curled as she made that last comment.
When she looked down the parking lot and across the street, Wendy saw a lone car parked with the driver -who she couldn't make out - just sitting inside. For whatever reason, she gazed at it for a minute until the driver started the car up and drove down the street. She shrugged the odd moment off without a thought.
Neither she nor Michael realized that it was the same car that had been parked on that same spot all day.
A cell phone vibrated on a desk minutes after Wendy had eyed that car. A man walked into the room, went to the desk and picked up the phone.
"Yes," he answered.
"It's me, Thompson." It was a woman's voice coming from the other end, sounding tiring. "So the kid talked some punk down for his girl; he had almost been close to going into combat mode."
"Well, he's a big man," Thompson mocked as he sat down on his chair.""Look why am I watching this kid?" the woman snorted. "He isn't doing anything interesting unless I cause trouble nearby, like with that fire. Why did I have to do that again?"
"We needed to see if the kid would jump into danger," he explained to her. "Test his skills a bit."
"Okay but how much longer do I have to keep watching him?"
"Until we have seen what he is entirely capable of," Thompson told her sharply, making it clear to her that there was no arguing with her assignment. ⌠He can be an asset to us one day. Just keep watching him and you'll receive further instructions in due time."
"Fine." Her frustration was very clear over the phone, but she knew to obey.
Thompson hung up the phone and opened one of his drawers. After flipping through numerous cataloged files inside, he took out the one he was looking for. He opened it and relaxed against his cushioned -chair. The file had a school picture of Michael Mules and all the information on him: family, permanent records, and of course, all that was known about his abilities.
The youngster, Michael, would become a valuable to them, but he would have to be tested more, and without him noticing anything.
Maybe normal is a perspective; something that is based on each person's own point of view. Whether normal for someone would be a life of mysteries to be solved or constant danger ahead. Whatever it is for each of us, what probably matters is if it's the normal we want.
- Michael Mules, Journal Entry
To Be Continued