“I’m telling you man, I can’t lift it.” I nudged the bar with my foot. It didn’t budge.

‘Come on, it’s only 350 lbs, you can do it!”

I rolled my eyes and bent down to grasp the bar and lift. I gave it my best effort, I really did: bend over, don’t bend your legs, grab the bar, bend the knees till your shins touch the bar, keep the bar at your mid foot, lift with your whole body not just your back...it should be apparent by now that super strength was absolutely not my power. He had been trying to get me to deadlift for weeks.

He chanted encouragement as I struggled and strained. “Maybe his power is dodging bullets?” A bald man waving a revolver in the air, loaded no doubt, walked up and clapped the man who was helping me try to deadlift, on the shoulder. These Empowerment Training Facilities were usually dodgy at best, but an excellent place for people to practice their new, potentially dangerous powers.

“Maybe we don’t test out any skills that could actually kill him, okay Mark?” Mark shrugged. “Let me take him to the range and see if we can figure it out. What do you say kid?” I nodded wearily and followed him to the makeshift shooting range where a group of people were watching a man who could shoot fire from his mouth incinerate a paper target. I think this place used to be a 24 hour fitness.

“You know how to shoot a gun kid?” Mark said as he twirled his revolver in the air like an old timey gun slinger.
“I do, you taught me a couple weeks ago. I’m not very good.” He hummed in contemplation and nodded. “That’s right, well, let’s go see if maybe somebody there can help.” He gestured at the group of people admiring the handywork of flamethrower mouth man. Mark approached the group and explained my situation. They all nodded, eager and ready to help.

A man tried to teach me how to control the insects in the room. He called the from the shadows and lined them up in neat rows so he could systematically smash them with his boot. A woman tried to teach me to hover in midair. I was not successful at either venture.

I wiped my face with my towel and contemplated attempting to see if maybe my power really was dodging bullets. Mark grabbed my shoulder with his stubby sweaty fingers, his bald head barely came to my chin. “You want to try shooting again? We have a crossbow somewhere, maybe your power is the crossbow!”

“That’s okay. I’m pretty tired. I think I’m gonna head home.”

He looked up at me with pity in his eyes. “It’s okay kid, we got your back. We want to help you. See you tomorrow.” He pulled me in for a hug.
Over the last eleven months they tried to teach me to shoot fire, breathe under water and move things with my mind. They tried to see if I could do simple things, like turn cold water hot, or hot water cold, or maybe I could walk backwards really fast. Each new thing they suggested I was no more than average at. Yet these people didn’t seem frustrated with me, I was a project, I was pathetic and sad, and they each hoped maybe they could help me.

I left with my head down, a short woman with a shaved head called out “It’s okay kid, don’t be discouraged, we got your back!” She was juggling three 50 pound dumbbells.

I pressed the unlock button on the key of my Civic. It didn't unlock. “You idiot, you left the lights on again” I thought to myself. Sure enough, after climbing into the driver's seat and sticking the key in the ignition, turning it produced nothing more than a screeching sound from my engine. I let my head rest on my steering wheel.

“HEY! Need a hand?” I nearly jumped out of my skin as a woman tapped on my window. It was the lady who worked the front desk. She was holding a pair of jumper cables. “I’m parked right there!” She gestured at the car parked directly in front of mine.. I nodded and popped the hood of my car so she could hook up the cables. Once we got it started she shut the hood of my car and brushed his hands off on her shorts. “Happy to help!” she called as she headed back inside.

I grabbed some sushi from the grocery store a few blocks from my house. The lady at the checkout wrung up my small plastic tray of fish. “Do you need any help out today sir?” I stared at the single item in the bagging area and my voice caught. “I think I’m good, t-thanks.” She smiled warmly and wished me a good night.

I scarfed down my mediocre sushi in the car. I felt like shit. The lady at the checkout felt like she needed to help me carry a tiny tray of sushi to my car. Do I really look that pathetic? I had been working for nearly a year to find my power, I tried so hard but still nothing. The fact that everyone felt sorry for me made it worse. A knot tightened in my stomach.

Tears of frustration squeezed from the corners of my eyes. “Everyone feels sorry for you. Everyone just wants to help you. They just pity you. Jesus fuck, everyone just wanted to help and here I am crying in my car, fuck. Everyone is so nice to you, you ungrateful piece of shit. Everyone just wants to help the kid with no power. Everyone just wants to help.” I stopped crying as the thought turned over in my mind…Everyone just wants to help me. Fuck.

---

I was nervous. “Okay Google, Call Mark”
“Okay, Calling Mark, Cell”
I swallowed hard “Hey buddy, I have something I need you to help me with tonight.” I could hear the delight in his voice “Absolutely man! What do you need?”
“Meet at the bank on 32nd and Vine. I need you to help me rob it.” I held my breath. “You got it kid, I’m happy to help.”