Two Inches of Chaos

The jerk who made it his daily mission to torment me was currently squealing like a stuck pig. My eyes tracked his frantic jumping, the sheer absurdity leaving me speechless.

Just minutes ago, pushed to my absolute limit, I had screamed out a curse for him to grow a twoinch hemorrhoid. Who the hell knew my newly awakened superpower would actually work?

He bounded frantically around the classroom, both hands desperately clutching his ass. [The system chimed in with an obnoxiously upbeat AI customerservice drawl: "The superpower's effect will only last for one month.

Just like your awful puberty, grit your teeth and it'll pass."] How on earth was I supposed to keep this horrifying secret from him?

Chapter 1 I was bound to a superpower system that could add two inches to absolutely anything. [The system chimed right in my ear: "Hey bestie!

This superpower can be used once a month, and the effects last for a whole month!~"] The first use I could think of for this socalled power? Adding two inches to my height.

After all, my mortal enemy, Miles, constantly used his sixfootone frame to mock me for being short. I’d snap back, crossing my arms defensively. "How am I short?!

I hit fivethree with a high ponytail, fivefive in sneakers, fiveseven with a baseball cap.

If I stand up straight and round up, claiming fivenine isn't an exaggeration!" He wouldn't even argue.

He’d just pull out his phone and sarcastically read off a trending tweet: "Shocking! Even the giant cacti in Texas have an average height of over six feet!" My jaw clenched.

My fingernails dug into my palms. So, the second I found out I had this ability, my mind went straight to extending my legs by two inches.

But since I'd never actually tested it, I didn't dare try it on myself right out of the gate.

My wicked gaze slowly slid over to the neighbor's bulldog, Tank… Tank, burdened by his stubby little legs, lacked any sort of authority in front of the community's golden retrievers and huskies.

I slapped my thigh. "Let's add two inches to Tank's legs first!" [Ding! Superpower activated!] Facts proved the superpower was fully functional, and the results were instantaneous.

Tank's leg shot up two inches on the spot. But… Son of a bitch. Could someone please explain to me why it only worked on one leg?

I cursed out loud, throwing my hands in the air. [The system deadpanned: "Did it grow or not?"] …It really did.

I scrambled for a fix. "Can we undo the effect of this thing?" [Current system version is too low.

The undo function is temporarily unavailable.] I let out a stream of profanities that would make a sailor blush. [The system chimed in with an obnoxiously upbeat AI customerservice drawl: "The superpower's effect will only last for one month.

Just like your awful puberty, grit your teeth and it'll pass."] And so, for the next month, Tank hobbled around on his uneven hind legs, getting relentlessly bullied by the other neighborhood dogs until he refused to leave his porch.

It was tragic. He howled at me for thirty straight days. If I could translate his barks, it would be so filthy even other dogs would shake their heads in disgust.

After that catastrophic failure, I shoved that utterly useless superpower to the back of my mind. The system was officially banished.

When I first started giving it the silent treatment, it would ping me with cute emojis and whine for attention.

After a few days of total radio silence from my end, the notifications stopped. Gradually, I forgot I even had a system living in my head. The two months of summer break flew by.

During the backtoschool classroom cleanup, someone dug up a pile of unclaimed old textbooks and shoved them on the very top of the lockers in the back row.

And some absolute genius had accidentally tossed my brandnew textbook right into the mix. Given my vertical challenges, there was no way I was reaching it.

I stared up at the locker, my shoulders slumping. Right on cue, Miles strolled by.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, a wildly obnoxious smirk plastered across his face. "Oh my, who on earth put Hazel's textbook all the way up there?" The second that smug tone hit my ears, I knew he did it.

This was blatant revenge. Chapter 2 Over the summer, Miles made a habit of ditching his community service and SAT prep classes to go play Call of Duty in his buddy's garage.

Since we were semireluctant childhood friends, his mom obviously knew me. She called me one night. "Hazel, are you with Miles? Is he still at his prep class doing homework?

It's getting late, tell him to head home soon!" Normally, I would’ve covered for him. But he had pissed me off earlier that day, and I was still seething.

I decided to teach him a lesson. I bit down on my popsicle, widening my eyes. "Huh? Mrs. Henderson, the SAT tutor called in sick today.

Oh, and I think the new Call of Duty expansion pack dropped this afternoon." The realization hit her like a freight train.

That evening, the entire neighborhood heard Miles howling like a stuck pig from his garage. He was holding a grudge over that.

Watching me jump up and down like a manic kangaroo in the classroom, Miles just leaned against the lockers, his smugness practically radiating off him. "Beg me, Hazel.

Beg me, and I'll get it down for you." I shot him a death glare. He just kept up the sarcastic drawl. "Oh man, so close. Just a few inches away.

The little munchkin is going to burst a blood vessel!" The bell was going to ring any second. My patience snapped.

Miles threw more gas on the fire. "Man, watching you struggle is exhausting. I really wish I could just donate two inches of my height to you…" I snapped. "Screw you!

Make one more short joke, and I curse you to grow a twoinch hemorrhoid on your ass!" The sheer venom in my voice actually startled him into shutting his mouth.

The second the words left my lips, a cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck. I actually had a superpower! I waited, my muscles tensed. Nothing. No system chime.

I exhaled a shaky breath. After ignoring it for so long, it had probably uninstalled itself and found a new host. I let my guard down.

Right before the bell rang, I pushed off my tiptoes, swiped my hand over the top of the locker, and finally snagged the textbook. I dragged myself to my desk, breathless.

The show over, Miles sauntered back to his own seat. But… the microsecond his butt cheeks made contact with the plastic chair, he launched into the air like a rocket.

The blood drained from his face. Then it flushed crimson. Then a sickly, mottled purple. Holy shit.

What was happening? [Right then, a longforgotten, robotic chime echoed in my skull: "Ding!

Superpower activated!"] My stomach dropped to the floor. "Why the hell are you still here?!" I hissed under my breath. [The system practically cleared its digital throat. "I have always been here.

Since you haven't used the interface in a while, the cold boot caused a slight latency.

The command has now successfully loaded."] "Meaning… you just executed that on Miles?!" ["Affirmative. You know my execution is flawless."] The blood rushed to my head.

I stared at the ceiling tiles, realizing my high school life was officially over. The homeroom teacher took one look at Miles's ghostly complexion and immediately sent him out.

The second the bell rang, I sprinted to the nurse's office, my heart hammering against my ribs. Miles was braced against the wall, his hands whiteknuckling his hips.

His face was contorted in sheer agony. "Hazel! What the actual hell did you do to me?! Why does my ass feel like this?!" Knowing I had massively screwed up, I caved.

I spilled everything about the ridiculous superpower system hitchhiking in my brain.

He stared at me, taking a sharp, ragged breath. "So… this thing is going to be on me for a whole month?" I clamped my mouth shut and awkwardly poked my index fingers together.

He stared at me like I had just handed him a death sentence. "You're kidding. Tell me you're kidding.

Am I really going to be crapping glass shards for thirty days?!" Chapter 3 I forced the words past the lump in my throat. "Maybe… you just tough it out? It'll vanish in a month!

Just grit your teeth and push through!" The air in the nurse's office turned dead silent. [The system chimed in, sounding almost sheepish: "Actually… it's two months… During the previous hibernation period, I automatically updated to version 2.0.

Every update automatically issues a reward, and the update reward is… an extra month of superpower duration… It has already been automatically added to your active timer…"] Miles deadpanned. "You two make me sick." Panic spiked my heart rate. "What kind of garbage reward is that?!

Are you trying to get me killed?! System!

If there isn't a fix for this, I'm taking you down with me!" I was ready to throw myself into oncoming traffic or drown myself in a neighborhood birdbath. [The system frantically intervened: "Hey, hey, hey, don't die!

In the brand new version 2.0, the system has unlocked the Point Store.

As long as you complete tasks, you can earn points, and points can be exchanged for corresponding items!"] "Talk." ["Current Host Level: Lv. 2. Unlockable Task: Daily Good Deed.

Task Description: Earn 20 points for each good deed completed. 30 points can be exchanged in the store for one Eraser Item, which removes an active superpower effect.

Completing three tasks cumulatively will upgrade you to Lv. 3…"] Miles and I locked eyes. An Eraser Item?

Miles's ass was saved! ["Host, do you choose to initiate the task?"] I nodded vigorously. "Yes!" ["Congratulations to the Host, task initiated.

Received starter items: Five superpower usages. Please feel free to maximize the use of your superpower during the task~"] At first, we were lost.

We had zero clue where to even start with a "good deed." Because no matter where we went, pedestrians would take one look at Miles's agonizing, constipated expression and literally cross the street to avoid us.

Wandering aimlessly, we ended up at the only open DQ right off the town highway.

I ordered two large slushies and slid into a vinyl booth. "Hey, why aren't you sitting?" I patted the seat across from me. He shot me a glare so venomous it could strip paint.

My fingers froze on the plastic cup of my slushie. Right. My bad. It was my fault he physically couldn't sit down. We strolled around the neighborhood, sipping our drinks.

It had just rained. The community park lawns were a vibrant, glossy green. The damp earth gave slightly under my sneakers, soft and comfortable.

Suddenly, a shrill scream shattered the quiet. "Someone's stealing my dog! They've got Tank!" A dark blur ripped past my peripheral vision.

Dogs in the neighborhood had been vanishing for weeks. Some poisoned with tainted hot dogs, others snatched in the dead of night.

But I never expected a dognapper arrogant enough to strike in broad daylight! The sheer audacity left everyone frozen in shock. The guy in black was sprinting fast.

His getaway vehicle was idling on the asphalt not two hundred yards away! We had to cut him off before he jumped in! People dropped their yard tools, immediately giving chase.

We locked eyes. "Let's go!" "Right behind you!" But the moment Miles took a lunging step, he slammed on the brakes. His knees clamped rigidly together.

A violent, dangerous crimson flooded his face. "It… it pulled…" I slapped a hand over my eyes. This was absolutely my karma. Chapter 4 I ditched him and broke into a dead sprint.

The rainslicked suburban dirt road was pure mud, riddled with potholes. I hadn't gone three steps before my ankle rolled. I faceplanted straight into a filthy puddle. Gulp.

I swallowed a mouthful of sludge. The dognapper was light on his feet, sprinting down the suburban dirt road, getting closer and closer to his accomplice's beatup Ford pickup.

A hundred and fifty yards. A hundred and twenty. A hundred… Right then, a spark hit my brain. I remembered the absolute disaster of my first attempt using the superpower on Tank.

Because the power could only add two inches to one leg, Tank became a cripple! That was it! I spat out a glob of mud, drew a massive breath into my lungs, and screamed. "Superpower!

Target his leg!" [Ding! Superpower activated!] The dognapper's left leg instantly shot up two inches. His eyes went wide the exact second his center of gravity snapped.

He pitched forward, eating dirt. The next second, someone tackled him, pinning him hard to the ground.

Furious neighbors formed a tight circle, raining fists and boots down on the guy. He shrieked and begged for mercy. My turn.

I stepped up and aimed two vicious kicks right at his newly extended, uneven leg.

He gritted his teeth, his face smeared with dirt. "What kind of freak are you?!" I spat on the ground next to him. "Scumbag!

Go wear your orange jumpsuit in prison!" By the time the police arrived, the dognapper was battered black and blue.

The second he saw the cruiser, actual tears of joy streamed down his face. If the cops had been a minute later, he really would have been beaten to death.

The sheriff grabbed his megaphone, barely cutting through the mob's roaring. "Break it up!

Break it up before you actually kill the guy!" Hearing that, the neighbors slowly backed off.

Seeing the sheriff about to hand out citations to the guys throwing punches, the chubby community watch officer stepped up.

He chewed his gum and threw his hands up in the air. "Sheriff, you saw it yourself.

This guy tripped on his own feet and absolutely insisted on kissing our neighbors' boots with his face.

It's an absolute tragedy." "…" The sheriff's expression was incredibly complicated. Finally, he waved a hand. "Whatever. Just a verbal warning this time.

Take it easy next time." With that, the dognapper and his getaway driver were shoved into the back of the cruiser. Tank's owner hugged his dog tightly, still shaking.

The crowd slowly dispersed as the sirens faded. [A chime echoed in my skull: "Ding!

Congratulations on completing the task: Daily Good Deed."] [Task Reward: 20 points.] That actually worked! Adrenaline surged through my veins.

Just one more task, and Miles's ass was saved! The next day during homeroom, our teacher stood at the podium and made an announcement.

Our classmate, Daphne, had been diagnosed with leukemia. She came from a singleparent household, just her and her mom scraping by. The upcoming medical bills were astronomical.

Her mom had borrowed from everyone she knew, but they were still short by fifty thousand dollars. They had set up a GoFundMe, hoping anyone with the means could chip in.

Daphne was gorgeous and generous, and she had always been incredibly popular, so plenty of kids were willing to donate and share the link.

But we were all just high schoolers; whatever cash we scrounged up was just a drop in the bucket against those massive hospital bills. After class, Miles slid over to my desk.

He pitched a wildly twisted idea. "Could we use that superpower to add two inches to her account balance?" Chapter 5 "Huh?" I stared at him, blinking twice. "That's a little unrealistic, don't you think?" [The system chimed in with a haughty tone: "How is it unrealistic?

I am omnipotent!"] Holy shit. We could actually exploit a bug like that? I nodded. "Then do exactly what he said." [Ding!

Superpower activated!] We expectantly opened the Cash App account balance, but my vision suddenly swam black.

I almost faceplanted right there— A massive line of text glared back at us on the phone screen: [Cash App Balance: $250.4500000000000000000000] …The physical damage was zero.

But the sheer insult was astronomical. I couldn't hold back, unleashing a string of creative profanities that would make a sailor weep. [The system innocently asked: "What is wrong?

Did I not add two inches to the Cash App balance, exactly as requested?"] The words jammed in my throat.

It took me a solid minute to choke out a single phrase. "You absolute piece of trash." Just like that, one of our five starter superpower uses was completely wasted.

I aggressively swiped out of the app. We didn't dare try any more shady shortcuts. We had to raise the money for Daphne the oldfashioned way.

I was the lead copywriter for the school's media club. Daphne's dad used to be a volunteer firefighter in our town.

Five years ago, during that multicounty chemical plant explosion that shocked the entire state, he gave up his own oxygen mask to shield a trapped pregnant woman. He died a hero.

Building around her dad's heroic sacrifice, I hammered out a powerhouse article.

I teamed up with the other media club kids, edited a raw interview video, and blasted it across every social media platform. The response was explosive.

It ripped through the school first. The student body raised two thousand dollars, and the school board matched it with thirty thousand. Then, local news outlets retweeted the video.

Some anonymous donor even paid to boost it into the national trending feeds. The snowball effect was insane.

The internet rallied, pulling out their wallets to help a hero's widow through a living nightmare. It didn't take long at all.

The remaining eighteen thousand dollars was fully funded. The total fifty thousand for the medical bills hit Daphne's mom's account. [Ding!

Congratulations on completing the task: Daily Good Deed.] [Reward Earned: 20 points.] [Point Balance: 40.] The whole fundraising drive took two days.

Which meant… for those fortyeight hours, Miles had been gritting his teeth, feeling like he was crapping glass shards. Guilt gnawed at the edges of my conscience.

The second the points hit my account, I smashed the purchase button in the system store. "Hurry up! Strip that superpower effect off Miles right now!" [Ding! Points deducted!

Superpower effect successfully removed!] [Point Balance: 10.] Seeing the sheer, unadulterated relief wash over Miles's face, I let out a massive breath of my own.

He threw his arms up. "I finally don't have to sleep on my stomach!" I metaphorically wept tears of joy.

I finally didn't have to sleep with one eye open, terrified he'd murder me in the dark! With my immediate goal achieved, I checked out.

I was in full slackoff mode. [The system practically threw a digital tantrum: "Grind! Hustle!

My performance review is about to hit rock bottom in the system network!"] I politely shut it down. "I have zero worldly desires left." Without a literal knife to my throat, I wasn't moving an inch.

But the blindside hit hard and fast. Just when we thought we were entirely in the clear, a followup post about Daphne's GoFundMe blew up on the trending page.

Right in the headline, the words "Charity Scam" practically bled off the screen.

Chapter 6 [The poster's account ID was "AlphaTroll_99".] In the post, AlphaTroll_99 claimed that after Daphne's dad sacrificed himself, the family had already received a massive payout from the state victim's compensation fund, along with subsidized housing.

Therefore, Daphne and her mom were playing the victim card.

To prove it, he even posted photos of Daphne and her mom holding the newest iPhones and carrying Louis Vuitton bags, checking in at a megamansion in Beverly Hills.

It was pure, fabricated garbage! But by the time we found the thread, it had already hit the top of the trending page. The engagement was skyrocketing.

It was too late to contain it. The public's sympathy had warped into the explosive rage of being exploited!

People who had previously donated, blinded by the rumors, were absolutely furious, hurling questions and demanding answers.

A few of us desperately tried to clear things up in the top comments. [Top Comment: Not to disrespect a fallen firefighter, but if the state gave you a massive payout, you shouldn't be blowing it on luxury goods and then crying poor on the internet.

Have some morals!] [Me: The cars were state vehicles sent to pick them up for the memorial service.

Can you stop believing every single thing you read online?] [Reply: What about the house?

Why not sell the house to pay for the treatment?] [Me: Daphne's mom has chronic health issues. She works as a janitor making minimum wage.

Do you want them to live on the streets?] But we were outnumbered. For every fact I corrected, ten new vicious comments popped up.

My thumbs hovered over the keyboard, hitting backspace again and again. The debate escalated rapidly, turning into fullblown cyberbullying.

Daphne's mom's phone was blowing up with nonstop harassing calls and vile text messages! People who had donated began initiating mass chargebacks.

Daphne's mom's phone finally crashed from the sheer volume of hate mail.

I handed her my phone, logging into the GoFundMe account to post an official statement. [Hello everyone, this is Daphne's mother. Thank you to everyone who has supported us.

However, there is currently a lot of misinformation spreading online. I promise that every single cent raised will go directly to my daughter's surgery and subsequent treatments.

I am willing to post all the hospital bills publicly. Please do not spread rumors.

Please believe us!] But the statement was instantly buried under a landslide of abuse: [Why not post the hospital's exact address so locals can go verify if you're actually sick?] [Stop crying on the internet!

We all know you're laughing your way to the bank! Using a dead man for clout, get the hell out of here! I won't believe a single word you say!] [Scammers! Refund my money right now!

I'd rather throw this cash at a homeless person than give it to you!] Backed into a corner and desperate to prove they weren't scamming anyone, Daphne's mom had no choice but to authorize the refunds.

Just like that, we were suddenly fifty thousand dollars short again. My scalp prickled with anxiety.

Right now, aside from fighting the rumors and trying to keep Daphne's mom from breaking down, we had to find another fifty thousand dollars! Later that night, Miles texted me.

His older brother was a hacker prodigy studying computer science at MIT.

By tracing the IP address of the "AlphaTroll_99" account, they had basically narrowed it down to one person. "Who?" "Gage." I stared at the screen, stunned.

Chapter 7 Gage was the quarterback for the public high school next door. He used to rely on his delinquent popularity to relentlessly harass Daphne.

But Daphne wanted nothing to do with a street thug who constantly reeked of cheap beer and cigarette smoke and was always getting into fights.

So the whole thing eventually fizzled out. Thinking about it now, the guy was definitely suspicious. "Are you sure it's him?" This account was clearly a burner.

It had been registered for years, but aside from that one post, there was zero trace of anything else. "My brother dug up his deleted activity log.

It's a ninetynine percent match." Damn. MIT hacker prodigies do not play around. I mentally bowed down.

The next day, we skipped our last period and staked out the public high school's front gate. Football practice ended.

The players started trickling out in groups of three or four. "There! That's him!" Miles yanked my arm, pointing at a guy in a black hoodie and a baseball cap.

We stepped right into his path. Since we couldn't be one hundred percent certain he was "AlphaTroll_99" yet, I didn't immediately reveal our hand. "Hey there.

Mind telling us your name? I just have a quick question for you." Getting blocked clearly pissed him off.

He took one look at our prep school uniforms and probably guessed exactly why we were there. "Piss off, morons!" he spat, shoving past us.

I feigned absolute shock, pitching my voice up an octave. "What?? Your name is 'Piss Off Morons'?

That name actually sounds like it has a pretty authentic French aristocratic flair!" He froze.

His boots ground to a halt on the pavement. "Are you out of your freaking mind?" We quickly closed the distance. "Nice to meet you, Piss Off Morons. I'm Hazel, and this is Miles.

We're juniors over at the prep school. Do you happen to know a classmate of ours named Daphne?" The second the name "Daphne" hit the air, the sheer hostility on Gage's face cracked.

A raw, undeniable flash of panic flickered across his eyes. I caught the microexpression. It was him. "AlphaTroll_99" was him.

But Gage recovered instantly, snapping his aggressive mask right back into place. "Never heard of her! I've got places to be.

Stop wasting my time!" He turned and stalked off. "Alright, take care, Piss Off Morons!" I yelled at his retreating back. "Hope to see you around!" He threw a middle finger over his shoulder. "Go to hell!" He walked fast, disappearing from our line of sight within seconds.

Miles kicked the curb, frustrated. "This pisses me off so much! It's definitely him! But we have zero way to make him admit it.

What do we do?" My lips curled into a cold, dark smile. "Oh, he'll admit it." Miles snapped his head toward me. "Not only that.

I'm going to make him crawl back to us, crying and begging to confess to exactly what he did