Brain Power (Chptrs. 8-10

Brain Power

By Joel Marchel #26
P. 5 Creative Writing
18,032 words


Chapter 8

Thankfully I slept through the rest of the night dreamless.  Throughout the night the kitten remained on my chest, like a guard statue.  I awoke to the kitten’s face right by my nose, mewing loudly.  I sat up and cradled the small kitten.  There was a letter by my bed in my mother’s handwriting.  It was on a piece of old rustic yellow looking paper.  She considered letter writing a fine art. It had Chance written in big letters on the front.  If the letter was personal she would always right the entire thing in a special form of calligraphy with an old ink and quill.  With business letters she still used calligraphy for her signature.  It was her special thing.  No one could insult her letters.  That was the one skill and aspect of her life that was truly perfect.  She loved knowing that she was perfect at one thing and there was no one that she knew that was better than her or that could criticize it.  She would write letters over e-mail, texting, and phones. I picked it up and read it. 

Dear Chance,

I’m off to work.  I left money and your driver’s license on the kitchen counter.  You have to take your brother to the mall today.  Half of the money is for your brother, the other half is for food.  Consider yourself lucky that I have to work overtime today.  Now you get a little freedom with your car.  If I had it my way, you wouldn’t drive until you’re 18. What’s with the kitten?  We need to talk about your two day snooze fest when I get home so plan on staying up late tonight.  As you know I’ll get home around 11:30, don’t complain, this way you’ll get out of school tomorrow. Try not to be mean to your brother.  He looks up to you, you know.  Don’t stay at the mall past 8:30.  Your brother’s thing starts at 1:00 so leave at about 12:15.  If you make him late he will kill you.  I will not hold him back.  So lay off the video games in the morning, you know how easily you get distracted. Be careful and safe and have fun!

                                                                                                                                                              Sincerely,                                                                                         
Crystal Wilson
Love Mom


I lightly laughed at the end.  She always went into autopilot when writing letters. My mom loved writing letters and had to write so formally for work. She had written so many letters to associates she was used to writing sincere, and then her signature.  I’ve been getting them from her since I was three and a half.  When she wrote to me or Devon she had to stop herself and put love Mom.

I rolled over, despite the kittens mewing protests, and looked at my alarm clock.  It read 6:31.  She must have put the letter down and left about 20 minutes before I woke up.  The front door slamming shattered my thoughts.  I heard her Armada screech away.  For once in her life she must be late.  In my entire life I had never known her to be late, two days after giving birth to Devon she was at work, 7am sharp. This must be the first time in my life that I had woken up before 8pm on a non-school day.

My growling stomach ripped me from my thoughts.  As I made my way to the kitchen sleep still had a firm grasp on me.  I stumbled from room to room. I fumbled for anything edible.  I ended up with a two day old muffin and some generic brand cereal.  I devoured my “breakfast” in a matter of minutes.

I was incredibly tired, but despite all my effort I couldn’t fall back asleep. All I could do was sprawl out on my bed with Grim.  I had no idea what to name the kitten or if I could even keep him.  So I named him the first thing that came to mind. As Grim purred and batted at my chin harmlessly I recounted the events of last night.  I felt the non-existent watch tight on my wrist as I thought about the man.  What in the world am I supposed to do with the gold and the money that the man gave me?  I tried to imagine me explaining the $250,000 I have to my mother. Last night I killed a man, no one outside of the order would know about this.

At the thought of how much money I had my mind started whirling with ideas of how to spend it.  Through all the shouts in my head of different ideas there was a low constant hymn saying “Don’t spend it, put it in your account” The voice was my mother’s.  She was right and wrong.  I couldn’t spend too much, but I couldn’t put it in a bank. That wouldn’t be very inconspicuous.  For now my secret drawer was the cube’s home.

I did a double take.  A little money couldn’t hurt.  I pulled six one hundred dollar bills out of the box.  The money looked very strange.  I couldn’t see the year.  Oh well, money is money.

Today, I would have a little shopping spree at the mall. I called Rachel to tell that I would pick her up a little after twelve.  My mother didn’t know that she was coming.  My brother would keep his mouth shut about it if he wanted to live. It was a little after 11. I grabbed a glass of water and ran into my room and began to change.  My room had poster of rock bands all over the wall.  I had the largest room in the house. I was lucky to have such a high paying internship.  All my cash went towards either my music or my technology addiction.  I had a sweet surround sound system hooked up to a brand new stereo.  I had a small flat screen LCD on the side wall.  It cost about as much a normal or plasma TV two or three times its size. I had a new laptop lying by the TV. Technology was like cocaine.  I simply couldn’t stand not having the most up to date technology. The only thing that wasn’t new and high tech in my room was an old fashioned metal trash can behind my door.  At least it was behind it when my door was open. I liked it; but hated other people seeing it and using it to make assumptions about me. As I pulled of the last shred of my clothing off my brother burst in, fully dressed and ready to go.

”What the hell!” I yelled.  I spun around to face him hands in front of me.  One was covering all that was sacred and the other held out. Flames erupted from the trash can on the other side of the door.  He was so oblivious; he didn’t even notice that there was a fire.

”When are we going?” He yelled as he pointed at his watch.

“In a little bit, now get the hell out of my room, and knock first, you retard!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.  What the hell was his problem?  It was a small fire at least.  I poured my glass of water on it, and the flames deceased. I took a shower and through on white slacks with a black hoodie. After stuffing the cash into my already bulging wallet I headed downstairs. 






Chapter 9



I jumped down the stairs two at a time.  My first ride in the Jaguar; it was only twenty minutes away.  My friends were always so amazed at what I had.  They were even more surprised to find out that my mother had given me very little of it. While she had a great paying job and could afford luxuries a many; she hadn’t really contributed that much to my high tech and cushy life.

All throughout my childhood I was extremely intuitive and had the ability, unlike most children, to have goals, plans, and hopes that didn’t give immediate gratification. In essence I have been a business man all my life.  At the age of seven, when I fully realized that people worked for money and got paid periodically, I sat down with my mom and dad and explained that I thought I should get a weekly allowance to do my chores. I would get paid whatever my age was.  Despite my dreams and ideas of buying new video games and candy I opened a bank account and demanded my allowance to be directly deposited into the account.  Half of all other money I received went to the account as well. I knew my parents and their weaknesses.  I knew the only way I would get allowance is if they believed that I was growing up and becoming more responsible.  Throughout the years I would often trick them by making sure my mom deposited the money, but I would ask my dad to give me cash.  I told him I was embarrassed and asked him not to tell Mom. Every month I would look at my bank statement and wish I had that money in my pocket. At ten I started exploring my wonderful skills as a con.  I was very charismatic, persuasive, and over empowering.  I could make people buy almost anything.  I would sell tons of candy to fat kids who were on diets; I would sell cheap trinkets and cards for a “charity” to teachers and kind children alike.  My parents never questioned where all my extra money came from.  Once I was fourteen, after my father was gone, I printed out a contract between my mother and me stating that if I fully paid for the car the day I bought it she had to pay the insurance and gas until I was nineteen.  She always thought that she was correct, and that was her downfall.  I bought a few expensive meaningless things before I drew up the contract so that she thought my saving gene was gone.  That assumption was a big mistake.  For my birthday I convinced my grandparents and other relatives that cared about me to join together to buy me a shiny new motor scooter.  It ran forty miles an hour.  After my fourteenth birthday I got letters of recommendation from my two favorite teachers and got a job.  I never touched my savings until I turned seventeen.  I just got the job I have now and had some serious cash.  I bought my car for seven grand less than sticker, to my mom’s dismay. In a fit of rage she banned me from driving until I was eighteen. I started buying new stuff left and right.  After years of sacrificing I had everything I wanted.

I picked up the keys and called my brother.  He came down the stairs slowly with his head down. “Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked.  He looked up at me; his eyes were watering and swollen.  There were tears rolling down his cheeks. “Oh my god, what’s the matter?”  He began sobbing uncontrollably.  I ran up the stairs and grabbed his shoulders. 

”I had to scrub my eyes out after seeing you naked!!” His fake sobbing turned to laughter.  I pushed him back on the steps.

”You retard!!!” I yelled “That was your fault for not knocking.”  I was overcome with anger.

“And it’s your fault for being soooo ugly!”  He shrieked in laughter. That was the last straw.  He needed to be taught a lesson. I picked him up by the shoulders and stood him up right.

”Fine, I’m off to the mall.” I shallowly said. “ I hope you will still get there in time.”  With that I walked out the door and got into the black Jaguar.  He came running out and started to yell.

“What the hell?  You need to take me.” He started crying as he talked. This reminded me, despite his maturity, he was still nine, and he was a child. This is tough love.
I grabbed his head through the window and pulled his head through the window. “I’m driving to the mall with Rachel, and to protect you from my ugliness I will LET you walk: instead of riding with me.” I whispered. “Ok, I’m off! See you at the mall!” I said happily.  I released his head.  I sped out of the driveway and began slowly riding away enjoying these few moments. After taking his crap for nine years I have finally gotten back at him.  That was the first time in his life I had been mean to him.  I had firm with him at times but this was downright mean. He sat on the corner of the street with his face buried in his hands.
Hopefully this will teach that brat to be nice.  I looked into the rearview mirror one last time before I had to turn around.  What the hell?  A black truck slowed down and pulled up near my brother.  A large man stuck his head through the window and began to talk to my brother.  I began to turn around.  The street was so small it made it a five point turn.  I kept my eye on my brother the whole time.  My brother had replied to the guy.  The guy laughed and said something else.  I finished my turn and drove towards them.  Devon smiled and stood up.  He laughed and got into the truck. 

”Devon, you idiot!” I mumbled to myself as I sped towards the truck.  I slammed on my brakes and jumped out of the car before it stopped moving. “Get out of the car Devon!” I yelled as I strode to the passenger door of the truck. 

”No! Seymour is taking me to the mall.  He says you’re mean for not taking me like you promised.” Devon yelled at the top of his lungs.  How could my brother be so blind?

The man stepped out of the car and started talking to me. He was slightly taller than me.  He looked young, but there were subtle signals that he was old.  He was cleanly shaven, meant to look like he didn’t have facial hair.  He had short dirty blonde hair hidden under a cap and brown eyes.  He was your picture perfect stranger danger guy.  He had a low tilted cap and sunglasses with a leather coat.  “Obviously you don’t like your brother, so let me take him off your hands and I’ll return him to you in a few hours.” He put his hand on my shoulder and smiled a big grin.

I pushed his hand off me and calmly said “Sorry, I think my mom would be kind of mad that I let my brother go with a creepy stranger.” I smiled a big fake smile that said screw you! 
“Trust me, no one will know.” He laughed lightly.

I rolled my eyes at him and grunted “Umm hmmm.” Apparently that meant to him that I agreed with him.  He started walking back to his door.  As he opened the door and stepped one foot up into the car I was behind him and rasped “You have three seconds to tell my brother to get out of the car, leave and never come back.” He stepped back down from the car and turned to me.

“Or what?” He smiled and casually brushed aside his coat with his arm.  The coat had been concealing a switch blade clipped to his belt. He smiled at me as he looked down at the knife and looked back to me.

I had never taken threats well. Throughout middle school I was always the devil’s advocate and an outsider, and I wanted it that way. I constantly questioned my teachers and peers; it never worked out well and made school a challenge, which I enjoyed immensely.  I was, like every other teen, finding myself.  I looked inside myself but saw nothing there so challenged myself to find the point to life, I got my answer. Challenges were the point of life, without them; life had no meaning whatsoever.  I constantly had to find the biggest and baddest group of bullies in the school yard and had to take them on. My black belt in Tae Kwon Doe always helped. I defied teachers at every move and all but squealed in joy when they made a mistake that I could correct. I grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him into the side of the truck; bend the metal with his weak flesh. My hands burned red with anger and fiery heat. They didn’t ignite, but they were hot enough to burn through his coat and shirt.  I held him until he yelled and pleaded for mercy.  I extinguished the flames within my hand; my gripped only tightened around the burns.

Devon jumped out of the car and ran around towards me.  I stared at him. “Go get into the car, buckle up and cover your eyes!” shuddered.  The red glint in my exploded as he stood there defiantly. “NOW!” I yelled.  With that he obeyed me. I turned my attention to the crying, sad excuse of a person in front of me.  I release my grip and threw him to the ground.

He stood up and pulled out his knife. “I don’t take threats very well” I shrank backwards as he sunk the knife into my stomach.  Hot liquid ran down my stomach and dripped to the ground. His face was in awe, twisted with pain.  As I looked down the last of the metal on his knife ran down my bare chest and onto the ground.  My upper body was burning red and had disintegrated my hoodie. I looked at Devon to make sure he wasn’t looking.  A fast fist smashed into my jaw and knocked me to the ground. He jumped on top of me and readied for another punch. “You should have left well enough alone, you brat!”

“I don’t take threats very well!” I muttered as he threw another punch.  My hand met his fist and tightly gripped it.  I pushed his hand into the hot metal.  I clapped my hand tightly around his mouth as he began to scream. I stood up and helped him up. His hand was horribly burnt but all the metal dripped off.

I whispered in his ear “Leave and never come back, and never try this on another kid or I’ll personally make sure that every inch of your skin is burned until you wish you were dead!”  He stared at his hand in horror.  I grabbed his burnt hand and held it for a second.  As I removed my hand all the burns disappeared from his hand. “I didn’t want to go through the police and whatnot.” I pushed him into his car. “You keep my secret and I’ll keep your.” I smiled as his trucked rushed away.

I ran upstairs to put on a matching hoodie.  As I got into the car I saw Devon huddling in the back seat covering his eyes. “Tell you what; don’t tell Mom anything about today and you can ride in the front seat.” I bargained. His eyes got wide at the thought at actually sitting in the front seat.  My mother had never let him sit in the front seat before; to him it was like a golden seat. “Deal?” I asked. He jumped into the front seat and strapped on his seat belt. “Devon,” I looked at him in the eye. “Never, ever do that again or I’ll kill you!” “Better yet;” I smiled “I’ll let one of those guys do what they want to you and then kill you!” He nodded and faced forward.

“I’ll never do that again; please don’t tell Mom.” Without another word I pulled out of the neighborhood and headed south towards Rachel’s house.














Chapter 10


The awe and fascination of driving was rapidly replaced by fear. I constantly went below my speed limit and was very paranoid about the drivers around me.  I was scared of messing up and crashing with my brother in the car. I would have been better if I didn’t have any passengers. The carelessness of the drivers around me didn’t help my paranoia at all.

I knew that one day I would be the target of serious road rage.  I didn’t consider the safety hazards but I was constantly hanging my head out of the window informing people on how to drive properly and reciting some laws of the road. I received many harsh screams and vulgar gestures, but who were they to be so careless to endanger my life. A terrible thought crept into my head, and after twenty minutes of creeping I consulted it.  Oh my God! I’m turning into my mother. I focused on the road; and informing other people on how to drive even harder. It was a failed attempt to push the thought out of my head.

I inched into Rachel’s driveway; afraid that I would crash into her father’s many exotic and expensive cars. Their house was beautiful; it was worth about 1.5 million, so Rachel said.  It had antique furniture and expensive paintings. Rachel’s father spared no expense for his children.  His endless source of meaningless spending on his children stemmed from his guilt of driving away their mother, putting them through three more spontaneous and hopeless marriages, and only spending about six hours a day awake at their house. Even those six hours were filled with business calls and chatting online with potential clients. Rachel knew this and spared no time in guilting her father into doing everything for her. He had all the money to do this because of his incredible flare for business.

Her father was the owner of a huge corporation that had created many web sites specifically for business owners. One allowed them to research other businesses’ secrets and tricks.  They could also hire spies to work at other business and report information to them. He also ran a successful car dealership that specialized in exotic cars that were worth more than houses. He was very successful in business but not in relationships.  He has had four wives and has five kids.  He only lives with two of his children; Rachel and Kyle.  Kyle is 13 and is the most annoying thing in the world.  He makes Devon look like an angel. Both Rachel and Kyle are from his second marriage to Doitreive.

I hopped out of the car and looked at Devon.  Before I could even tell him to get in the back he jumped through the middle space onto the back seat and buckled in. I reminded him “I’ll be about ten minutes” He nodded quickly. I walked up to Rachel’s door with a smile; I have been smiling a lot today. I have a feeling that today Devon was going to be an angel. I rang the doorbell, again, and again.

Her father pulled open the door with an angry face.  As he saw me his face quickly turned to happiness. “Good Morning Mr. T!” I chirped brightly.  His brown eyes were overlooked upon seeing his huge eye bags. He had a tight gray suit with a loose hanging tie. “Another late night at the office?” I quizzed.

“Hello Chance, you know I don’t like you calling me that,” I called him “Mr. T” for short and he hated it. “and yes it was. Rachel’s in her room; please have her vacate the premises as soon as possible before she gives me her Christmas wish list for “Santa”.  She’s been writing it for days.” I laughed. “You don’t think you could break it to her that Santa isn’t real and that Daddy isn’t a bottomless well of wishes.” I laughed a little more.

“Not on your life!” I chuckled as I walked in.  I took off my shoes before Ms. Selmer could catch me with my shoes on inside the house and attack me with her duster her while she assaulted my ears with her wailing Chinese. 

“She’s in the study; good day Chance, I’m off to work. Have her home by six.  Death awaits the tardy!” He reminded me. I smiled as I shut the door. He works days and nights six days a week. He usually works 12:30pm to 5:00pm and then 7:00 til 2:00am. He knew his working hours limited his control over his children so consequently for Rachel the things that he could control; he controlled every little aspect and held those parts to military expectations. I had a feeling that things were going to be ok for a while, in fact today was a good day.  I had almost forgotten about what happened. Last night. Would Rachel still want to go with me to the mall?  Should we talk about it?  I was so overwhelmed with the possibilities of what would happen that my body went into autopilot and began to walk towards the study. Before I knew it I was in there, standing before her. Their study contained a library with over ten thousand books, or so that was what Kyle had bragged to me. There were four big fluffy red chairs facing each other in the front corner of the study.  She was on her laptop, occupying one of those chairs, and she was clearly enthralled in whatever she was reading.

She looked up at me and set aside her laptop.  There was a long awkward silence between us.  This had never happened before; usually the words just flowed out between us, neither of us knew what to do in this situation.  She began to look like her father.  She had his matching huge eye bags. I sat down beside her in one of those chairs. I opened my mouth to start the conversation. “Did you know that Wicca dictates that we draw our power from ourselves and the many gods help us do so?” She smiled. “I’ve been up all night researching spontaneous combustion.” That explains her drowsy experience.

“You don’t have to research spontaneous combustion; I’m the one who killed that guy.  It wasn’t any science screw up.  It was me!” I exclaimed.  It felt great to get that off my chest. Rachel started to laugh but stopped when I looked at her with my solemn green eyes.

”Oh god Chance! It wasn’t you.  It couldn’t be” She shook her head.  I stood up.

“Why the hell not? It had to be me!” I yelled.  She looked down to the floor.

“No I wasn’t you.  I know it wasn’t.”

”How do you know that? I set that stone on fire, why can’t I set a man on fire.”

“Just drop it.  Let’s get on with our lives.”

”No! I need to know why you THINK that I didn’t do it.”

“I know you didn’t do it.  I know that because I set up a fake fire.  I rigged a replica of the stone to ignite in flame upon remote activation; with a little help of course.” I knew the stone looked different. “I did it so Rapier would be knocked down, and he would quit.  I never expected someone to find us, and… well spontaneously combust.  I’m sorry to let go a night while thinking that you were a killer.” She gave a meek smile.  “I tried to tell you at the end of the ceremony but you ran off so fast.”

”Rachel I have a power!” She sighed and shook her head.  I held up my hand and snapped my fingers, I pointed my index finger up and a three inch flame erupted from the tip of my finger.  The fire reflected in her wide eyes.  Besides her eyes her face was completely emotionless.  No one beside me could have understood what she was feeling right now. Her eyes were my gateway to her heart and soul. I always thought that her eyes couldn’t lie to me; but they did last night.  I mistook satisfaction and joy, because she had accomplished her task, for fear.  No; they didn’t lie, I had seen what I thought was supposed to be there.  Even worse I had seen what I wanted to be there.

The flame died down to a red glow on the tip of my finger.  I had no idea what to say, especially with a conversation started like “I have a power AND I killed someone.” 

“This changes a lot; doesn’t it?” I smiled and laughed weakly. She raised one eyebrow and stared at my eyes. Her blue eyes pierced my body and soul. That’s what I loved about her; we could see right through each other, although she was a little better at it than me. She turned her laptop on and put it back on her lap.  Her eyes glazed over and pushed my insight out of them.  Rachel’s fingers flew across her keyboard.  She could type flawlessly for hours on end without even glancing down at her fingers. I couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing.  Whenever faced with a problem or something she had no knowledge on Rachel would turn to her laptop and look it up.  She didn’t even give my powers a second glance.  I knew her immediate reaction meant that she was intensely interested, but I wanted her to sometimes be a little more upfront and obvious with her feelings.

“So, you did kill that man?” She asked as she clicked around with her wireless mouse. The word “killed” stung my heart.  It was true, but the truth hurts. There was no emotion behind her eyes.  Why did she not care? She acted as if she was asking me the capital of our stare, just a trivial fact that had no bearing on what was going on.  The simplicity of her question sucked the air out of my lungs; I had nothing to say.  I hate silence and in moments like this I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Killed is a little strong, don’t you think?” No; it wasn’t too strong of a word. It was exactly correct. I overreacted and let myself go, but this was my burden to bear; not hers. “You know; you don’t have to hang out with me anymore… I could even quit the group.” I whispered, looking at the my feet. I know I offered her those choices; but I didn’t want to do any of them. This was just my guilt resurfacing in my friendships.

Rachel looked up at me, dropped her laptop onto the end and flung up at me; her hand flew across my face, leaving a big red handprint on my left cheek. “Of coarse I don’t want you to do any of those things” She had always been violent with showing her emotions.  Rachel touched her red handprint on my face with two of her fingers; she rushed into me and hugged me.  The momentum of her hug pushed me down onto one of the red chairs. Instinctively I grabbed her with both arms and drew her into my chest. “What are we going to do?” She asked shakily, “I know you didn’t do it on purpose, but you still have a supernatural power, the ultimate of unexplainable.”

I strengthened my grip around her body and pulled her in more. My face was buried in her hair; the soft, light brown locks had a light scent of sweet lavender. “I don’t know; but I do know that we’ll make it through” I sighed. Nothing could stop me when I had Rachel to stand by my side and see me through. At times in my life she kept me going. She was always there; when no one else was even knew that I needed someone to be there. She could always tell when I needed her; Rachel knew me better than my own mother.

She jumped out of my embrace and back onto the ground, “What do you mean “we”?” she laughed. “This is your problem.” I liked Rachel but she seemed to be bipolar at times. She would just bounce from one emotion to the next, no transition, no motive or cause, just because she was Rachel.  Every time I think about her; she knows.  I never can figure out how but she knows! As I was thinking that she looked at me, “What are you thinking about me?” she asks harshly. “Is it bad?” She’ll know if I lie; but every time I still try.

“Nothin’” I shrug.  I can tell before I get the whole word out that she has already seen right through my lie.

”Tell the truth!” She scolds.  I know she won’t be mad no matter what I say about her; and she won’t think about me any differently. Nevertheless I still feel bad telling her.

“Just that you’re kinda bipolar-like with your emotion.” I mumbled while staring at the ground.

“In what way?” She asks. The worst part is almost over.

“You bounce around with your emotion; one minute your scared and compassionate, the next you’re sarcastic and happy.” There, now it’s done.

She turns around and heads toward the door that leads to the south wing; which is where her room is. I follow four steps behind her.  As she barely touches the door she whips around and holds her pointer finger up. Rachel flashes a big smile at me and flips her hair back. “You wouldn’t love me if I were any other way!” She knew! I never dropped a hint or ever thought about telling her but she still knew that I loved her.  What could I say to Rachel besides the complete truth?

“You are so right!” I smile; she smiled, we walked together towards her room.