[ WP ] Everybody made fun of you in hero school because your superpower was `` free refills , '' but now you discover it has bigger implications than anyone realized .

`` Hey Andy,'' Spark asked, not looking up from the engine of the car she was working on, `` What happens when they run out?'' 
 
 `` What do you mean?'' I asked her, taking a sip of my drink. 
 
 `` Your power.'' She shrugged. `` Pass me that wrench.'' 
 
 `` Like you need it.'' I teased, passing her the tool. Unlike most of my classmates, she at least let me pretend I was helping. We both knew she could do anything with that machine without needing a wrench. With any machine really. The planet was damn lucky she had an interest in auto-mechanics and not ATMs or killer robots. 
 
 `` Hey, manipulating electronics is not the same as telekenesis.'' She reached over and playfully poked me in the side with a grease-covered finger, discharging a small wave of static electricity that made my hair puff up. She turned back to the engine. `` And you did n't answer my question. What happens to'free refills' if there's no more refill to provide?'' 
 
 `` Dunno. It's never happened.'' 
 
 `` What, never?'' 
 
 `` I mean, there's only so much I can eat and drink by myself in a sitting.'' 
 
 `` Huh. I think this calls for a field trip.'' She stood up and closed the hood of the car, and began wiping her hands off on a rag. 
 
 `` What, like an official one? I do n't see Mrs Black going for it. And I do n't think we need to drag everyone else along.'' I cringed. While there was no outright bullying from my classmates about my lame ability, everyone was pretty clear about how little they thought of me. While they might enjoy an outing into normal society, albeit a supervised, strictly controlled one, I still did n't see our guardian wanting to drag all of us along for such a pathetic experiment. 
 
 `` Well, we're not going to rack up enough refills just the two of us. C'mon.'' And with that, Spark dragged me to Mrs Black's quarters to discuss the matter further. 
 
 The next day at noon, we found ourselves with our teacher and ten other classmates on the old converted church bus that Spark had fine-tuned a few years back to run more gas-efficiently. 
 
 `` Now remember,'' Mrs Black stood at the front of the bus and lectured, `` As much as we all enjoy going out for lunch, this is a *controlled* experiment for *Andy*. In addition to the usual rules about not attracting any attention with your powers, you are also *not allowed* to manipulate the food *or drinks*.'' She gave a particularly pointed look towards Adam L. who, in addition to his other powers, had a habit of turning drinking water into wine. Or blood if he was in a bad mood. No one questioned the blind teacher's knowledge of exactly where he was sitting. 
 
 As Mrs Black sat down, the driver popped the bus into gear and began driving aimlessly. For an hour, my classmates practiced their powers, read books, chatted, listened to music, or, like me, just stared out the window at the world that we were n't really a part of passing by. Eventually, the driver got an inkling and followed it to a parking lot for `` Vivien's Crab Shack.'' Perfect. The place really did look like a shack, so their supply was probably limited, and being a specialty food, there would n't be too much variety for everyone to argue over what to eat. 
 
 `` Table for fourteen.'' Mrs Black said to the hostess, who looked startled, but did n't argue. While we waited for the staff to push some tables together for us in the otherwise empty restaurant, the hostess babbled about how it was just our luck, because they were having a promotion right now involving all you can eat on blue crab meals. Of course. Spark clapped me on the shoulder encouragingly as I watched the live creatures in the tank. Today would be genocidal for them. 
 
 A few of my classmates had to be shown how to clean crab, so that slowed us down at first, but with twelve hungry teenagers, that could only last so long. The hostess kept an eye on us, and I kept an eye on the tanks. Soon, we would eat the last crab, and see what happened with my `` free refill'' ability. 
 
 After an hour, it seemed strange that a small place like this would have such a large stock. After two hours, when my classmates were well and truly full, there was no mistaking what was happening. The tanks were not depleting. Every time more crabs were pulled out for us, still more remained in the tanks. 
 
 As she was paying the check, Mrs Black turned on the charm. They were delicious, she said, and can you tell me, please, where they were sourced from? We waddled back onto the bus and headed home. Mrs Black sat next to me. This provided more questions than answers, she said. We had to do more research, more experiments. Ben, usually a fan of research, experiments, and minutiae, overheard her and groaned. 
 
 When we got back, she took me to her office and sat me down as she called her `` old friend'' Arthur to check on the crab population of the Chesapeake Bay. Had anything strange happened today? While he disparaged about their declining populations overall, nothing strange had happened today. Not in the Chesapeake or anywhere else. 
 
 The next week, we went out again, this time to a local restaurant that was serving pickled beets grown on the owner's farm. It had been a particularly prolific week for the crops, the owner said, so they were offering free refills on them. Mrs Black instructed us to eat up. They were so good even our picky eater in residence liked them. It got a bit harder to like them after the fourth serving. After serving six, even I was getting a bit sick of them. When the owner himself came out to check on our meal, Mrs Black wondered how it must have been a large crop indeed, and what was his secret? The man seemed a bit puzzled, for it had been a large crop certainly, but he had n't quite remembered pickling that many of the red roots. Perhaps his girlfriend had done more after he had gone to bed. 
 
 The next week, it happened again with horchata from a local farmer's market. 
 
 And then it was tomatoes from our own gardens. 
 
 Mrs Black called up some of her `` old friends''. And then she called a few more. They had, it seemed, finally found a use for my lame ability. We set up a soup kitchen. Donations `` paid'' for the first bowl. Free never-ending refills were on me. As long as I was having a bowl too, the food just kept on coming. It gets boring some days, sure, but knowing I'm making a little dent in ending world hunger, well, that's worth another cup of clam chowder.
