"Watch closely"
Hector said to me and a group of blockmates surrounding us at lunch break, while he placed the white ball in a red plastic cup that is turned upside down. Two other red cups lay turned on the table. Raising the cup with the white ball one last time to show us that it was really there, he flicked the cup along with the other two across the smooth lecturer's table. Slowly at the start, he slid one cup over the other, then switched two cups' positions. Gradually increasing in speed, he grabbed one cup dashed it to the left, grabbed another and swung it away from the rest. Smooth. Precise and without fail, he moved the pieces across the table without any of them bumping into each other and possibly flipping the cups open.
"Which one is it?" He asked as he looked straight into my eyes in his deepest and meanest poker face that tells me 'You're not gonna get it this time.'
Lacking hesitation, I placed my hands on the cup on my right, lifted it up and to the excitement of my mates around us, they cheered at my third goal. The white ball stood viciously still on the uncovered part of the table. "You're one win away from being my first hall-of-famer, Adam."
He's right. No one has ever reached a fourth goal. Hector has the fastest hands, I've got to give him props for that. He's been adept with them since forever, natural talent I presume. On lots of occasions, he would slip one's pockets empty and return it later to the rightful owner saying he found it somewhere hanging and he was lucky to come across it. This is how he made friends throughout high school. We all have little talents of our own, don't we? I knew this round is going to be unbelievably impossible to beat. Just this last round. Please.
I watched as he reassembled the cups, lifted the white ball for the fourth time and concealed it inside one of those identical cups. Before beginning, he clasped his hands together and rubbed them. I could clearly hear the coarse feel of his palms as they slid roughly across each other's surfaces. I could feel everyone's forces around me, eagerly waiting for the last round to commence. My eyes gazed at the wall clock right behind Hector, resting on top of his head in my view. 12:58.
My eyes bolted back at his hands when they touched the cups. Faster. He spun them around, slid them across and dragged them all over the table. Quick in pace, he jumbled them on the table like a crazy magician. The crowd around me were so amazed, freaked out even, at his speed. I could hear them clearly whispering to one another. I think there's Mathematics going on in here. One would say. No, maybe Adam really has great eye concentration, Biology I suppose. And another. He's relying on Probability. That's for sure. I bet he'll choose the center cup this time. And I say, no. No, mathematics, no statistics and probability, and there's definitely no Physics to this.
Because to me, his hand movements are just as fast as a pendulum swing, less the possible hypnosis. The vibrations of the white ball's movement inside the cup tells otherwise its current position. Moreover, the distinct screech of the white ball on the smooth filmed surface of the table was as piercing as a mosquito flying near your ear. Right ear or left ear. This tells me if the ball is in the right and left cups. You may be wondering about the center, I leave that job to my hands that are on the table. Every object, breathing or non-breathing, is subjected to the idea of personal space. An object becomes more noticeable when its personal space is breached by some disturbance. This disturbance is translated then into something like an invisible force that creeps around any adjacent object for a limited amount of wave, hence the table. The white ball being enclosed in one cup's personal space creates disturbances enough for my hands to pick up these waves and determine it's location. Normally, these waves are short in length. But hey, who said I was normal?
That's right. It's a cheat. My own personal gameshark. With one hard press on a visible red blot on my thumb, I turn from a mule to a flying unicorn. It's like a drug that fills my entire body with greatness that surpasses Alexander. Right now, I can almost see the ball moving without the cups as this cheat is as accurate as a savant's sketch of a city. Spatial perception, echo location and extreme coordination, these are what my cheat offers me. Other special offers I've yet to discover but what I truly know is that unlike savants, my cheat doesn't work forever. Like I said, I may rocket up to the heights of The Great but I too shall experience the same downfall.
It is bound by time. 9 minutes. It's all I have. As I watched the numbers on the wall clock flick to reveal a new set of numbers, 1:00, my eyelids drooped down to a close. I fight to open them only to see the world in a blur. I held on to the table to support myself. They didn't notice me in such condition for all they care was if I'm going to get this round right. Hector made his last spin in a move so fast my eyes could barely see. Deep breaths.
This sucks so bad. Drained. That's what my body feels like at this moment. My heart pounded like a full marathon. I could barely hear the people around me anymore, they were all shouting words I cannot comprehend. I tried lip reading, left, left, right, center, left, they screamed at me. Stretching my arm felt like all the muscles are going to be torn to shreds, but I forced myself and pressed my palm on one cup. I looked up to Hector's eyes who provoked me without words.
"Jacket pocket," I mumbled in difficulty.
They were all silenced like one pistol fire in the air.
Wait. I waited for Hector's reaction. His look was unchanging.
"You sure about that, Adam?" he asked me mockingly.
I breathed out, "Yeah."
"You know you can still change your mind, your hand is still on one cup."
Right. In my confusion, I forgot to remove my hand on one cup. He ticked one cup open, no white ball hiding. With two cups left, I lifted the one under my palm and to my horror, there wasn't any white ball lurking either. But at the same time, it was a relief, I didn't pick that answer.
"There are three choices from the start, Adam. Where do you think our white ball is hiding now that only one cup remains uncovered?"
"Your jacket pocket. That's where the little white ball chose to hide" I said confidently.
Hector smirked laying his hand on the last cup.
Everyone looked closely as they compressed nearer to us. One. Two. And he lifted the cup.
My mates chattered in amazement. No white ball.
They applauded, some of them jumped on my back in excitement. I still couldn't believe it. I guessed. It was one wild guess. My heart almost stopped. I stood still as my mates were all crazy rejoicing at my worthless success. So where's the white ball? In the midst of chaos, I watched Hector pull the white ball out of the jacket pocket...of the guy beside him.
RING! The school bell made a terrible noise. At once, the students in the room quickly chased after their seats. A fuming woman, wearing an all blue ensemble rushed inside the room holding a clean piece of unused chalk. Quickly, she jotted down the an unusual word on the green board.
"Proxemics," she turned to us all, "Who can explain what this word means?"
She looked around the class. Someone who doesn't seem to be listening to anything she's blabbing about. Someone who looks like a person that can be lashed out upon. An easy target.
"Mr. Persimmon, would you like to give us this word's meaning?"
Why of all people, I get to be the first one to on her list. Oh, I forgot, I always get to answer her questions, with one press on my thumb, I can be Einstein for 9 minutes. But this time I carelessly used my cheat on one stupid game to look cool. They're all waiting for my answer. I didn't even hear the question clearly, all I know is that she wrote something on the board that seems Greek to me in this headache. My vision is still unclear, there were bright lights on one side of my sight. This is really annoying. I should be used to this by now.
"Space..." I answer.
"That's right, Mr. Persimmon, but next time, I would like for you to give me an intelligent answer, I'm not asking you for Titles here."
I got away with that one. That's enough. She's not going to bug me again now that I've answered at least one question. Slowly my breathing became relaxed. The strange contraction on my feet has slightly loosened up. The numbness on some parts of my body began to start feeling normal. Why do I have to undergo this everytime. A consequence? Since when did using my talents become a sin? Why didn't I just get telekinesis, that would be cooler or mind control perhaps? Everyone would have chosen flight or teleportation. Why did this gift even come in yin and yang? Wait, what am I even complaining about? Billions of people would kill to have this gift. All I'm saying is that, if you're gonna give me a lamp as a present, I just hope you don't give me the kind that flickers after 9 minutes.
It has been a day. As I ponder about the mystery that is the red blot on my thumb, I realize that I'm already at the frontdoor of my house. I don't need a cheat to hear the breaking vases and clanging silverwares. I definitely do not need a press on my thumb to hear where they're fighting again. At the kitchen, and in a few seconds, I shall move aside for my father would come storming out of the door. True enough, he just passed by me and slammed the door close. Here we go again.
My room didn't have that much stuff. I'm really minimalist if that's what they call it. Not just because I don't want my dad to come in angry and break some of my stuff in his annoyance, I really don't like too much clutter. It keeps me at peace. I don't like picture frames. It's like a bound to this space I should be filling up. I didn't have that much friends either, it's a weakness. Closeness, I mean.
In the silence of everything around me, it made me feel safe. BANG!
A gunshot. It was clearly a gunshot from downstairs. I sprang up from my bed as my heart began to beat faster. I raced downstairs, yelling "Mom!" I knew where she was. I ran to the kitchen only to find my mom lying in her own blood. The room was spinning as cold sweat trinkled down my neck. I couldn't move for a moment. What do I do? I took a thick white cloth on the counter and placed it on top of the wound that's bleeding profusely. Who did this? Who the hell did this?! I couldn't catch my breath. It was that feeling all over again.
A gun clicks on the back of my head while I cry before my dying mother.
Slowly I reached for my left thumb.
I knew what I had to do. I just knew.
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