The day arrived like every other weekday. A subtle thud came from my Dad after he finished his own daily morning routine. How he felt that this was enough after so many failed attempts always amazed me. The second warning came with more conviction–three stiff smashes came like a switch, but only for a few seconds. The third time was the kicker–what would it be today?…Splash. Two Dixie cups of water cascaded down on me and my blue and red pinstripe sheets. After deliberating with myself whether or not a few extra minutes was worth having my mattress overturned, it was inevitably time to rise and shine. En route to the toilet I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked the same but my brain felt a bit erratic–as though it was tugging in every direction. Was I going to brush my teeth first or go to the bathroom? or wash my face or floss or do a handstand or read the dictionary? All these thoughts abstractly molded themselves into a single solitary realization…I think I have a superpower. Ultimately the routine went; wash face, pee, brush teeth. I didn’t have time for the other tasks, unfortunately. While at school these powers were truly put to the test. Immediately upon sitting down in first period earth science my mind went jumping; from theoretic thought to hypothetic hyperbole in a single bound. 

What was that, a venn- diagram comparing cumulonimbus clouds and cirrostratus ones? Sorry Mr. Marela, there is a much more pressing battle between Mario and Link just getting underway on my graph paper. 

When lunchtime came my mind zeroed in only on the things that were present at the time, a table full of buddies, the table next to us full of girls, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. After a quick game of hit for hit (a barbaric game in which each patron punches their associate with great fury until someone bows out) it was time to head back to class, a double period of Language Arts. We were reading A Diary of Anne Frank, a typical 7th grade story, but something that actually held my interest. I even started reading it over the past weekend. Before the teacher began her lesson I was called up to her desk. She told me that I was going to meet with Mrs. Steeble, I didn’t recognize the name. I ambled down the hallway toward room 220. I tried deciphering why I was being sent here, but nothing apparent came to mind. That hallway was silent.  But, the closer I got to 220 the louder it became. What was going on? As I opened the door a rush of rambunctiousness resonated. There were only four kids in here but it sounded like forty. There was constant movement–not a single calm moment. Before I even shut the door a lady came up, introduced herself, and said that this was the FLEX classroom. She explained that this was a place for students to focus and work more efficiently (a fortress of solitude). The commotion calmed and the room turned into an oasis with a few flicks of the light switch. After completing a hundred-problem multiplication sheet and a DRP assignment I was ushered back to my normal class by Mrs. Steeple. The day ended typically with a few more daydreams, some nail biting, and a binder of homework that I doubt was going to get done.

****

I walked up the hill every day to get home. Today I was surprised to see that my Mom’s car was in the driveway. This was a very rare occurrence; she worked an hour away at a school for troubled teens and often didn’t get home until after 8 pm. I did have a baseball game that night, maybe she wanted to come watch. As I cautiously came into the house she told me grab a snack, but do it quickly because we were going to a doctor’s appointment. 

Crap. 

While we drove to the doctor’s office I told her about the new class that I had gone to that day, and how my mind was in limbo. I didn’t want to tell her about the powers yet, not until I had a better understanding of them. 

This place did not look like a typical doctor’s office. There were no receptionists wearing scrubs or that familiar smell of latex gloves. This was just a carpeted waiting room with a lackluster supply of Dr. Seuss books and an underwhelming collection of mismatched mega blocks. A thick, dark, oak door opened and out walked a man wearing a baggy burgundy sweater, tasseled loafer and half-moon glasses. He called us into the office. Was he the doctor? We exchanged pleasantries and spoke a little bit about my school, home life, and friends. After a while he asked my Mom to leave the room so we can speak alone. 

He began asking me all types of questions about my concentration and focus. He spoke about my powers and how they affect me in school and on the field. I told him that I felt great and that my mind was as powerful as ever. Why did he want to know this stuff about me? How did he know about my special abilities? He wasn’t a doctor… he was a villain. Trying to break me down, uncover my secrets so that he could have the powers for himself. 

After a half hour in his office I did not crack. My mom informed me that this was going to be a bi weekly affair. I was ready for our next encounter. He kept referring to my powers as ADD, a “disorder” that alter one’s ability to focus. I was answering yes to all the questions he threw at me. Do you do your best work under pressure? Are you drawn to things that allow for high levels of creative expression? Are you attracted to high risk activities? Do you often run late? He said that a bunch of kids my age have it, I knew he was lying. He wanted me to take some sort of a pill that would suppress these powers and make me function like a “normal” person. This was where the line needed to be drawn. 

He saw this as a curse, but to me it was a gift. This was my life now………

That day my mother told me something that I have never forget, she said “anyone can excel at one thing, you can exceed at them all”.

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