Do Better

Desks and chairs were strewn about with the taste of dust in the air. Kepler had begun opening windows to help clear some of the air for his little escapade, not quite sure what he wanted to gain out of it. Control, not of his abilities but over himself, had been the ultimate goal. Once upon a time he would abuse his powers or use them to make himself appear a God or some sort of savior. He had a knight in shining armor complex that was borderline narcissistic in nature which would probably go well with all his other brain wiggles. Had he been neurotypical he might have been able to handle everything but fits of mania weren't uncommon when trying to hold back.

Light up, clear a space then light up, that'll help.

He began arranging furniture so that it was along the outer edge of the classroom, chairs atop of tables and old textbooks atop of chairs. Pretty soon he had a clearing in the middle amidst the dust fog that had made it harder to breathe. The habit of smoking had been one that his mothers knew about, they didn't really mind it give his age and the fact that he picked it up as a way to distract from his ability.

"It's not just the snapping..." He reminded himself that his powers worked in unison and while it had been a week and a half now since power usage it had also been only three hours since he stemmed on a trigonometry sequence which would allow him to possibly use his powers to cause a chain reaction with some of the adornments of his History teacher's classroom. A picture would knock over a stack of books, which would knock a free chair, which would knock over a plant, which would collide with his desk and allow for his monitor to fall over, hitting his coffee cup, and spilling hot tea all over his lap. If he did it just right, it might appear as just a bad job of hanging the picture.

He had obviously refrained, choosing instead to raise his hand and ask to be excused to the restroom. In lieu of the loo he chose instead to find an empty classroom to have a smoke and focus on something less destructive. Well, something less disruptive to his class anyway.

If I set fire to each of these books, which way would the debris travel with the air current and the dust particles? Would the fire die before spreading to the chairs? At least these questions don't trigger it.

He sat with his legs crossed and his hands shaking in his lap, eyes darting from desk to desk, hoping that he wouldn't be missed by his class.

"Hope is a fickle, fickle friend." The cigarette was necessary, it was medicinal in nature. Some viewed it as a bad habit, correctly so, but it kept him from self harm and it kept him from certain other astonishing things which could otherwise endanger his life. It was pretty difficult to accept just how many times he had calculated the trajectory of a simple rock to make it pierce his frontal lobe in such a way that it made its journey all the way to the occipital lobe and out. Slingshot's mistakes had caused him to weigh this option heavily but cigarettes, marijuana, and the occasional drink helped. The only thing his mothers knew about and condoned, however, was cigarettes.

"I'm skipping out because if I hadn't left I would have done something dangerous. Nuff said," his fingers cradled the stick as he lit it up and let his eyes rest on the girl. A million thoughts seemed to enter and immediately leave his mind.

The angle and acceleration of the third textbook on the right would change as it struck the chair leg and collide with it's upper right corner into the side of her neck with enough force-

The halogen light would shatter upon being pulled center down, breaking through the plastic covering as shards would reign down with only enough force to make shallow cuts-

Her right foot could pull straight up with enough force to allow her to fall back on her head with enough force that might spring a concussion and possibly knock her out-

He shuddered as a hand went to his head, rubbing at his temple. "It's not really safe for you here. I really need a little peace or else my mind gets a little crowded." The words came out in such a way that he imagined he was giving off the wrong idea, that perhaps he was a telepath of some sort. Still, he knew that he could be rather frank at this school. "Don't worry I don't read minds it's just... it's all math. Angles, trajectories, acceleration, gravitational attraction, potential energy..." He waved his hand as he said each thing he computed, not really entirely sure of who this person was.

"It's a lot and my mind has a habit of calculating how to hurt people. So far the big money is on a book hitting the light above me. It's a long process that involves shrapnel from a halogen breaking and your thigh getting knicked just right."