I sat on my bed, locked in a staring contest with a pile of yarn. Well, it didn't really have eyes to stare back, but I was doing enough focusing for both of us.

My rational self was being really annoying. You don't have superpowers moron! Quit getting your hopes up, because you'l just be disappointed. Remember when you thought you could fly and almost broke your leg?

But it's happened twice now, I argued back. Could it really be possible that something had happened outside the apartment last night? Maybe not drug induced?

As if pulled from a cheesy kitten poster, I told myself, You never know until you try.

I swallowed and picked up one of the ends of yarn. It hung limply in my hand. Not alive, not moving. My heart was beating like crazy. What had I done before? Both times had been unintentional. 

Move, I commanded it. It sat there like a string of inanimate fibers. 

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I pictured it in my mind. The yarn twisting up my arm like a pet snake. All my energy went to that one mental image. 

A tickle ran up my arm. My heart skipped. Was I imagining it?

My eyes snapped open. The yellow and maroon yarn was winding lazily up my arm. I began to hyperventilate, unable to believe it. 

What kid hasn't deluded themselves into believing they had superpowers? For a solid three months I once convinced myself I could communicate with worms. I drew too many crappy doodles of myself with my worm subjects to count.

"This is real," I whispered, partly to try to convince myself. 

"I am making this happen."

I stopped concentrating on the yarn. It slipped off my arm. Then I did what any teenage guy on who just discovered he has superpowers would do. I went to get a snack. 

Without even noticing what I was grabbing, I came back to my room with a jar of mayonnaise and some celery. The limp yarn drew my eyes. 

I stretched out my hand toward it and concentrated. It didn't move. 

Suddenly worried I was broken, I stretched harder, eyes squinting with concentration. Nothing. 

I seized a handful and mentally screamed,

MOVE!

Like a pit of snakes, the yarn began to writhe and twist under my fingers. A wave of relief poured over me, along with a sudden realization. 

I had to be touching whatever I was trying to move.

As I chomped on my Mayo celery sticks, crazy ideas and half formed plans raced around my mind. But a warm glow was building inside me. 

I was special. I had something none of my classmates, maybe nobody else, had! The thought compensated for the disgusting things I was eating.