Thomas had a "study date" scheduled with Chloe after school — emphasis, sadly, being on "study" — but since she usually hit the gym first, he had some free time before she arrived. The weather in Twisted Oaks was usually lovely this time of year, and today was no exception; clear, sunny and warm, with just the slightest touch of the crispness of autumn creeping into the air.
As was his habit since he was old enough to not to hurt himself in the process, Thomas jumped the fence instead of just opening the gate, and unlocked the back door into the kitchen. He set down his backpack on the kitchen table, pulled his sweatshirt off, and grabbed an apple from the fridge to tide him over until dinner. As much as he would've preferred chips or some Pop-Tarts, Thomas' mom was quite keen on healthy eating and had long ago banished junk food from their pantry.
Neither his mother nor his father were home yet, either — his mom was likely just finishing up work at her yoga studio, and his dad often wound up staying late at the car dealership, crunching the day's sales numbers. Like most afternoons since his brother went away to college, he had the place to himself. He suspected that his parents would normally have disapproved of him spending time with a girl alone, but they were entirely aware of Chloe's predilections — which they warmly accepted without question — and trusted him not to get into too much trouble.
Not wanting to waste such a lovely day, Thomas soon found himself outside in the backyard. He spent a few minutes lounging in a lawn chair, just soaking it all in. However, his reverie was soon interrupted by the memory of the odd occurrence earlier that day.
He had somehow known that Heather was in danger of slipping without even seeing her. That plainly shouldn't be possible.
Just how had he done that? Now that he thought about it, this wasn't the first time something like this had happened. There had been times in his life when he just seemed to know what was about to happen. He'd first noticed it as a child when he'd warned his mother right before a pot of spaghetti boiled over. It was something he'd always chalked up to strong reflexes and situational awareness, so he had never given it much thought. Chloe, however, had noticed his knack for catching stray balls, and liked to entertain herself by occasionally tossing things at him just to watch him catch them.
Curious, he grabbed a few small stones from around his mother's garden, then walked to the center of the backyard. Closing his eyes, he tried to clear his mind, focusing on his breathing — a trick Chloe said she often used before winding up for a pitch. With a little trepidation, he flung the rocks straight upward.
Suddenly, eyes still closed, he felt the now-familiar pinpricks on the back of his neck, and then a series of images burst into his mind, like a film reel being played in slow motion. He saw the downward trajectory of the rocks before they'd even begun to fall, and where they'd land if he just allowed them to drop. Quickly guiding his hands to where he could feel the stones would be, he reached out and felt the slight sting of impact as the first rock fell into his open palm.
Then the second.
Then the third.
He opened his eyes with a gasp. This was unreal. His ability was not only unquestionably supernatural — he now knew it was something that he could control.
His revelation was interrupted by the sound of a backpack being tossed over the backyard fence, prompting him to drop the stones. A few seconds later Chloe appeared, vaulting over the white picket fence. As usual, she was wearing a pair of navy blue athletic shorts and a simple gray t-shirt reading KNIGHTS SOFTBALL.
"Hey Thomas! I rang the doorbell and nobody answered, so I thought I'd check back here."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Chloe! I should've been listening for you."
"Nah, it's fine, I can't blame you for wanting to be outside on a day like this. What are you up to?"
"Well, I've discovered something kind of weird, I think."
"Oh?"
Thomas quickly filled her in on the day's earlier incident.
"Wait, you helped a Heather? Why?"
"Look, it just kind of happened, and that's besides the point. You know what? Let me just show you. Stand back a bit."
Thomas picked up another handful of stones, closed his eyes and tossed them upwards.
One. Two. Three. Four. He caught almost all of them — the fifth rock grazed the side of his hand and landed in the grass. He wasn't quite fast enough
Chloe stood, mouth agape, for a few seconds before speaking.
"Holy crap. I mean, I always knew you had freaky-fast reaction times, but this is like full-on Spider-Sense. Have you been bitten by anything radioactive lately?"
Thomas chuckled. "Not that I know of, no."
"So, I mean, how do you do that, exactly?"
Thomas shrugged. "It's like ... I can see things a few seconds before they happen. And sometimes I can see how things will turn out, depending on what I do. And other times it's not even something I see, it's just a vague impression, of what's going to happen — like pin pricks on the back of my neck. I've been able to sense it as long as I can remember, but I never realized it was something I had conscious control over until now.
"Man, what I would do to have you on my team."
"I think the whole me-being-a-guy might present a slight complication with that."
"Hey, I don't know about that — I mean, our captain from a few years back ended up transitioning and now plays baseball in college, so anything's possible!" Suddenly her eyes widened as she was clearly daydreaming. "I can see it now, 'Now up to bat, Tammy Swan—'"
Thomas made a face.
"What, don't like Tammy?" Chloe replied, her eyebrows raised in amusement.
"Nah, just doesn't fit. Tammy's like the girl who had blonde highlights and won't stop babbling about her boyfriend." Chloe's expression soured at this.
"Crap — sorry, that kind of sexist, wasn't it?"
"A little, maybe. But you're right — thinking about it now, Tammy doesn't suit you. Hmmm, well, do you know what your mom would've called you if you'd been born a girl?" Thomas faltered at this, and looked towards the ground.
"No clue. Never asked, I guess." Thomas replied with a tinge of nervousness; Chloe responded by giving him an odd look.
"Huh, well, now I'm curious. Anyway, I agree, whatever's going on with you is pretty weird. I guess try to use powers for good and not for evil?"
Thomas chuckled at that, "I'll try my best. We should probably get to studying, though."
They both turned to walk inside the Swan family's modest, unassuming two story domicile. Once indoors, Chloe made a beeline for the fridge to grab some snacks while Thomas trotted upstairs to his room to grab his textbook and notes. As an afterthought, he also quickly threw the t-shirt that was on his bed in the closet. He wasn't expecting to wind up there with Chloe today, but if on the off chance they did, he didn't want to have to explain why he owned a girl's fitted t-shirt — especially since he himself couldn't explain what exactly had motivated him to buy it from the thrift store down street in the first place. He sighed as he thought to himself, Why am I like this?
Upon returning to the kitchen, his neck prickled along with a sudden impression of something heading towards him, and he threw his right hand up in front of him. Almost instantly he felt the cool texture of an orange as he grabbed it in mid-trajectory
"Hah, I still love doing that!" Chloe giggled.
"Chloe, I don't know if my mom would appreciate you tossing her produce around, even if I can always catch it." Thomas snarked.
"Hey, we're supposed to be studying physics, right? I'm just conducting my own experiments, that's all."
"Yeah, I'm sure. Remember, just because your best friend apparently has superpowers, doesn't mean you get to use them for your own entertainment. Well. Most of the time, anyway."
"Okay, okay! Buzzkill," Chloe teased as Thomas sat down next to her at the kitchen table, textbooks sprawling everywhere, and spent the next hour or so quizzing her on her physics notes.
"Alright, so now, if you take the derivative of the equation for velocity, what do you get?"
Chloe's face scrunched in concentration for a few seconds before her eyebrows shot up in comprehension. "Well, it'd be the rate of change in your speed, so ... it'd just be acceleration, wouldn't it?"
"Yup! You got it," Thomas cheered.
"Cool, I see it now," she replied, pausing for a moment before, "And, you know, knowing that, calculus in general makes a lot more sense now."
"I know, right? I don't know why they don't just teach calc and physics bundled together or something. It's a ton easier when you actually have something concrete to relate it to."
Chloe breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks for helping me with this. For a while there, I was afraid I was as dumb as one of the Heathers."
Thomas cocked his head, curious. "Are they dumb?"
"Big time! I have Geography with Heather M. She completely failed a quiz on European countries today. It was like grade school stuff. The teacher even forgot to take down her world map. I'd feel sorry for her if she wasn't such a jerk."
"Well, you're nowhere near that bad," said Thomas.
Chloe looked away for a moment, giggling. "Glad you think so."
"Of course, Chloe. I mean, would I lie to you about something like that?" Thomas said with a twinkle in his eye.
"Only if I didn't think you knew better than to try to flatter me, Mr. Swan."
"Well, hey, maybe I don't know better, you don't know that!"
Chloe chuckled. "Oh, come on, I'm your best friend, let's not pretend I can't read you like a book. Although, I do wonder sometimes ..."
"About what?" Thomas shot his friend a perplexed look.
"Well, there's something I've been meaning to ask you ..."
"Oh?" Thomas prompted nervously.
"Okay, so this is might sound a little weird, but I've noticed a few things, like the fact that you always play Mass Effect as female Shepard—"
"That's because Jennifer Hale is much better voice actor than Mark Speer," Thomas interjected defensively. "A-and because she looks hot," he added, suddenly feeling nervous again.
Chloe gave a bemused smile at his reaction, continuing "—agreed, but anyway, there's been a few other things that have made me wonder, do you ever feel like—"
Chloe's question was cut off as the sound of a door banging rang through the kitchen. A few moments later Thomas' mother appeared in the kitchen. "Hey, kids! Hitting the books?"
"Yup!" replied Thomas, "Though I think we're at a good stopping point for today; Chloe's made a lot of progress on kinematics."
"Well, good, because I was just about to start on making calzones for dinner. Chloe, would you like to join us? They're from scratch."
"I mean, how could I say no to that? I'd love to! Let me just let my parents know I'll be having dinner here."
Thomas found himself briefly wondering what she had been asking about — he didn't know why Chloe was so interested in his gaming habits, or what else she might have noticed. Perhaps she'd bring it up again after dinner.
Chloe and Thomas helped Mrs. Swan prepare dinner, with Thomas rolling the dough out and Chloe rinsing and chopping vegetables.
"How was the studio today, Mom?" Thomas asked.
"Oh, not too bad. I introduced headstands to my morning beginner's class, though, which always make me a bit nervous. I tell people they don't have to do it if they don't feel comfortable with it or strong enough, but you always worry that there's one try-hard who goes and does it anyway and ends up toppling over and getting a nasty bruise."
"People forget there are risks, I guess," Thomas replied with a shrug.
Chloe chuckled. "Now, I'm imagining you teaching child's pose with, like, heavy metal in the background," said Chloe, before affecting a radio announcer's voice. "NEW at Swan Transformative Wellness Studio! EXTREEEEME YOGA!"
"Well, it'd certainly mean fewer people falling asleep during final savasana," Thomas' mom chortled before continuing. "You know, Chloe, you're welcome to attend my studio whenever you'd like — and of course, the same goes for you, too, Thomas. You seemed really fascinated by it when you were a kid."
Thomas stammered in reply, "Ah, thanks Mom, but, yoga's ... not really my thing."
As the calzones went into the oven, Chloe brushed the flour off her shirt and turned to Thomas' mom. "Mrs. Swan? This is kind of a weird question, but do you know what you would've named Thomas if he'd been born a girl?"
Thomas jerked up, startled by this question and feeling the beginnings of a blush of embarrassment creep into his cheeks. He hadn't expected Chloe to actually ask his mom what his name would've been! There was a momentary pause as Mrs. Swan's eyes seemed to glaze over, as if remembering something that she hadn't thought about in years. She perked up, the satisfaction at remembering evident on her face.
"Sophia. It means 'wisdom' in Greek, and I always thought my daughter should pride herself on being wise. Though I guess we'd have called her 'Sophie' for short. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, well, earlier, Thomas was showing off his amazing hand-eye coordination, and I'm trying to persuade him to join the softball team, and—" Chloe was quickly cut off by a thoroughly blushing Thomas making slapping gesture in her direction. His mom snickered.
"Is that so, hmmm? Well, if it got him a scholarship and saved us from having to pay for his college tuition on top of his brother Lars', I'd call him 'Sophie' any day of the week."
Thomas, realizing he was outnumbered, just kept his mouth shut — but still somehow couldn't help but grin along with them, despite the conversation taking humor at his expense.
"Well then, Sophie, better keep your options open," said Chloe, wagging her tongue at him. "Just saying."
"Still, you're a bit too handsome for a Sophie," his mom said. Thomas felt a knife churning in his guts at those words, as the happiness evaporated, but couldn't understand exactly why. Chloe noticed his discomfort.
"What, don't like being called handsome?" She teased. "Would you prefer pretty then?" Her eyes seemed to light up as an idea popped into her head. "My, Sophie, you are looking so very pretty today!" Thomas nearly choked, and his face went beet red.
Chloe continued to refer to Thomas as 'Sophie' throughout the evening — his father having to be brought up to speed upon his return from the car dealership — though she made a point to keep her teasing playful. During dinner, Thomas' mom once again brought up his reflexes as she passed around the potatoes.
"You know, Chloe, it's interesting that you mentioned Thomas being quick to react. Now that I think about it, his grandmother was good at it, too. I remember when I was a kid, she used to do a party trick where she'd take a handful of coins, toss them in the air, and catch them all before they hit the ground."
"Oh, wow, really?" replied Chloe.
"Yup! My sister and I figured she must have practiced for hours while we were at school. She called it something, but I can't for the life of me remember what it was."
"Huh, I guess it runs in the family."
It being a school night, Chloe left for her parents' after dinner, and Thomas retired to his room soon after. He briefly scanned the bookcases that crowded his room, pondering some pre-bed reading, when his gaze fell upon the beautiful mermaid statue on his night stand. He had found it while at a flea market with his mother when he was 12, and had begged her to get it for him. Like the girl's t-shirt he slept in every night, he wasn't sure why he felt compelled to have it, just that he did. Of course, that didn't stop Chloe from teasing him about it when she first saw it — complete with lots of off-key renditions of "Part of Your World" — but he wouldn't have had it any other way.
Having grabbed a pair of sleep shorts and the girl's shirt from his closet, he started to reach for the book he kept at his bedside table — a cheesy fantasy book he'd read a dozen times before. Trying to immerse himself in the book's fictional realm, after a page or two he realized that he was surprisingly tired from the day's events. Perhaps consciously using his ability wore him out faster than he realized. I wonder what Chloe wanted to ask me about, he idly thought. Oh well — maybe she'd bring it up again tomorrow.
Reaching over, he switched off the lamp on the bedside table, leaving only the light from the streetlamp outside seemed to bathe the statue in a warm, calming light against his blue bedroom wall. He played with the fabric of his shirt as he drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face, always glad to be wearing it. Tomorrow is going to be a good day.
* * *
Thomas swung by his locker to pick up his statistics binder for his first class of the day. "Good morning, Sophie!" Chloe said brightly as she walked up to him, a travel thermos full of coffee in her hand.
Thomas felt a stab of panic. "Ugh, do you have to do that here, too?" he asked. Glancing about, it didn't seem as though anyone had taken notice, at least.
"Well, I just thought you liked it! I swear your eyes light up a little whenever I call you that," Chloe replied with genuine sincerity. Thomas said nothing, but shot Chloe a dubious look. "Okay, fine, I'll refrain. Man, are you okay? Did someone eat all the marshmallows in your cereal this morning?"
"I dunno, I just woke up feeling ... off, I guess." Not just off, he thought to himself, disappointed. He didn't know why. All he could could vaguely recall was that he dreamed he was ... someone else, and that it had made him happy .
"Same here. I've been feeling off ever since that Geography quiz yesterday. I really need to improve my handwriting — the teacher thought I wrote Iceland instead of Ireland. Everyone else got a 100%. Even Heather M." Thomas raised his eyebrows. Something about what she said seemed kind of ... wrong. But he couldn't put his finger on it. She glanced around, and lowered her voice slightly. "Speaking of feeling off, I've been wondering, have you ever thought you might be—"
Before she could finish, an angry yell reached down the hall.
"HEY, DYKE! C'mere, I wanna teach your queer ass a lesson. And, you, too, faggot — no one touches my girl and gets away with it!"
Tyler approached them, his face contorted in fury, buddies trailing behind him. Thomas looked around for an escape route, but realized Tyler's boys had quickly encircled them. Chloe tried her hardest not to look intimidated, but he noticed she was backing up against the lockers, her hand trembling.
"What, don't have anything to say, you little carpet-muncher? Or are you hoping your little faggot friend here will defend you?" Tyler sneered as he shifted his gaze between Chloe and Thomas, slowly raising his books in front of his torso in fear. Something about Tyler was different today, and it scared him. Tyler moved his right foot back slightly and—
Thomas closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his mind. A vision came to him; Tyler had his right fist up, elbow cocked back, winding up for a punch, his right foot extending forward. In an instant, Thomas saw what would happen next.
Tyler's fist would come crashing into Chloe's abdomen, doubling her over in pain. Unless ...
Chloe's travel mug.
Thomas opened his eyes, just as Tyler was beginning to swing his fist forward. Acting as though it were instinct, he grabbed the mug out of Chloe's hand, and tossed it downward. The mug rolled on its side a short ways, coming to rest under Tyler's foot just as he shifted his weight forward.
Tyler slipped on the mug and careened forward and down, Chloe and Thomas staggering sideways away from him. As he fell, he still snapped his fist forward — but missed Chloe completely, smashing his knuckles full-force into a locker.
The next thing Thomas knew, Tyler was sprawled out on his stomach, trying to cradle his now-bleeding hand. "OH GODDAMNIT, MY HAND! MY HAND! SON OF A BITCH!" he yowled in pain. His posse quickly lost interest in Chloe and rushed in to attend him. Other students began to crowd around, trying to see what the commotion was about.
"Okay, I think that's our cue to exit," said Chloe, her voice still slightly shaken.
"Agreed," said Thomas, and they both quietly walked away from the lockers and towards the safety of the statistics classroom.
Glancing back, Thomas noticed Heather M. standing further down the hall, leaning against some lockers and watching them with appraising eyes.