After dinner and brushing teeth and changing into his pajamas, Daniel lay in bed staring out the window. It was a warm night but he lay underneath his blanket nonetheless. He liked it that way because it felt that he could hide there. He looked at the tree outside.

He looked at his wall where his only photos were tacked. There was a picture of him as a baby being held by his mom and his dad. His dad wore a soldier’s uniform —the picture was taken right before he was sent off to fight. He never came back. His mother was wearing her Church gown. She was smiling. His parents were pointing to a small band around baby Daniel’s leg. In tiny type, one could just make out the word “Worthy”—he had passed the genetic testing to qualify to be a Champion. His parents were proud. His mom beamed. A sharp twinge of failure pierced Daniel’s heart as he thought about the test today. He remembered another day. He was in the playground. He must have been about four or five and was alone except for a younger girl on the swing. An older boy came up—he was probably about nine. Daniel couldn’t remember the boy’s name but he could still see the boy pushing the little girl off the swing. Little Daniel stood up and surprised himself when he said, “Hey, why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Daniel knew this was something a hero would say. The older boy came over and sized little Daniel up. The next thing Daniel could remember was a sharp pain in his nose and blood running down his chin. The boy hit him and Daniel fell on the sand of the playground, his nose bleeding and his face covered in sand and tears. He cried but no one came. The older boy was gone—probably afraid of getting caught. Even the little girl ran away and he was alone. Since that day, Daniel knew that to really be a hero, he needed to back up his words. And that’s why he wanted to be a Champion. But now, he realized, that was never going to happen.

And then he remembered the crash. He thought about squishing the hover-car. Had he really done that? It must have been a coincidence. He couldn’t have done that. It didn’t make sense. How? He thought about it. He remembered positioning his fingers just so. He remembered squinting his eyes. And a slight tingle rode up his spine. And then there was the explosion. But how could he do that? It wasn’t possible. He wondered and wondered until finally he fell asleep.

He only woke up once that night and he had forgotten about the day’s events. He was very thirsty and stumbled into the kitchen to get a drink of water. Half asleep he didn’t see his grandfather’s light on. He went back to bed and didn’t wake until morning.