Mia trailed behind me. "Hey, James," she said. I came to a complete stop amid a crowd for her.
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"What's up, Mia?" I smiled at her.
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"There's this carnival across town that my uncle told me about, and I was hoping you'd like to go with me?" My grin brightened as I glanced into her luminous blue eyes.
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I pulled her off to the side and leaned against the locker out of the way as foot traffic meandered by us; a few of Mark's buddies watched us as they rushed through their lockers for their books. "Are you kidding? Hell yeah, I'll go." I exclaimed.
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"Yay!" She curtsied for fun, swinging her short pink skirt.
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"Isn't it the guy's job to ask the girl?" I watched her grin subside, and I frowned, too, disappointed by my subconsciously sexist comment.
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"Think of it as a role reversal." She frowned. Then she took my hand in hers, and I clamped it tight.
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"What time?" I asked.
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"Six-thirty?" Her fingernails dug into my palm, reminding me she was there.
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"Then it's a date," I smirked.
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"Great! You're going to pick me up. Please don't be late."
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"Sure," I said, laughing—it was my first date.
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We strolled down the hall together, and I walked with her to our next lesson, watching Mark nearly lose his shit as we walked in.
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"What the fuck, Mia?" he shouted. She yanked her fingers away from mine and slid onto the empty seat beside me. I humbly grinned at Mark. That was one point for me. However, Mark and his friends stayed away from me that Friday. Most of Mark's buddies sat on the opposite side of the room.
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Because Ms. Rooke barely taught us anything in our classes, the school fired her and replaced her with Mr. Alexander Kinley, who appeared to be a rookie amateur substitute. I assumed there was no connection between Noah and Max. However, he had a distinct Australian American accent like the new kids.
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I was doodling yet again. Doodling translates to scratching and scribbling lines and shapes on paper. I wasn't much of an artist most of the time, and while I could draw a little, I wouldnt make it as a sketch artist or something close to that soon, mostly because I wanted to be something other than a sketch artist.
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"James Knight," Mr. Kinley called my name, clearing his throat as he pointed to the board. His eyes tracked my hands, and I dropped my pen to my paper.
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"Read the poem on the board for me, mate." I sat back and looked up, but after collapsing in my seat again, I collected myself and read the first and second sentences aloud.
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"Flying, leaping, and jumping into action. This hero is all about satisfaction. Some days, we all have to wear masks, but other days, the person beneath the hood does extraordinary tasks." That was an awful attempt at writing poetry, but if he was trying to tell me he knew who I was, he got an A for effort.
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I looked around and noticed everyone in the class staring at me. The stillness was deafening, and Mark was the one to break it with a slow clap and a grin.
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"Wow, Mr. Kinley, that was deep. You know the supers suck, right?" Mark looked in my direction, then at Max. In anger, Mr. Kinley puffed his chest, crashing his fists on his wooden desk.
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"Supers do a lot your father can't do, Mr. Reignson." Mark fueled Mr. Kinley's fury, slamming his hands on his desk with a grunt.
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"Yeah, like what? What can they do that's so incredible? They're just destructive and a waste of time." They stared at one another for at least five minutes. Finally, the bell rang, and I winced in my seat. Collecting my notebook and pen from my desk, I shoved them into my bag as I moved toward the door.
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While I wandered through the front doorway, Sam waited for me, hollering from the kitchen, "Come here, James," He ordered. I dropped my backpack to the side of the walkway and wandered over to the kitchen counter. Samual pushed a root beer in front of me, watching me blankly.
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"So, my teacher is a fucking poet," I said. Sam chuckled as I sat down next to him on the stool, and I rolled my eyes. "Do you think it's that obvious?"
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"James, I've even seen the dents you've put in your locker during parent-teacher nights." Sam had a hard time cracking open his root beer. I grabbed the bottle from him and popped it open.
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"Thanks," he said, and he presumed. "It only implies you should be more cautious with your abilities."
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"What if I don't want these powers?" I contended. Sam pulled himself off the stool and laid a sympathetic hand on my shoulder.
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"I know, James. I've tried to fix it, remember?" I rolled my eyes.
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"This whole super thing irritates me. Those supers are looking for you, Sam. I'm not sure how I'm going to handle this. I'm sixteen, remember?" Sam stood next to me, a puzzled look on his face. He set his bottle on the table and began one of his many lectures to build my confidence.
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"Well, James, your powers come with a considerable sacrifice. You may not have wanted them, but you may not have a choice." He drew a shaky gulp of air. "I'm still working on something again if you don't want your powers, but I won't let you give up easily. James, the world needs you. Your family is relying on you. It's a critical time—"
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"You need me," I reminded him.
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"Not as much as your father or brother. Would you be eager to help me in the laboratory?" He took a sip from his bottle and sighed.
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My brows drew together in hesitation. "At this moment?"
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"I'm sure we have some time to get additional data on your powers. You know, just in case my next cure doesn't work." He smiled as he took another sip of his drink.
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"Are you going to drink your soda?" Sam urged. He finally got non-caffeinated.
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"Does it come with considerable sacrifice?" I mocked. I floated his soda bottle from my lips to the table.
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Sam shook his head. "Go to the lab. I'll meet you down there in a moment." He said, pointing to the doorway. I pulled away from the table and walked out of the kitchen.
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That evening, Sam and I were in the basement, sipping root beer and putting my powers to the test. I drifted straight to a sizable wheel-like treadmill in the basement's corner, looking battered up, and landed on it. Sam connected another set of his wired equipment to a motion sensor monitored to track stamina and velocity. It could withstand speeds much over the speed of light.
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About a minute later, I sped up in place, almost imperceptible from the speed, and Sam focused on his computer and gave me a quick thumbs-up. Then I slowed down, halting myself near the machine's edge, slipping off.
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"Sam, what do you remember about your work?" I asked. Sam's eyebrows rose from behind his computer screen, and he sucked air through his teeth.
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"Not a good time to ask me about that," he pointed out.
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"Why?" I asked.
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"Look, James. These supers are a more significant problem than my work for the government. You are getting more powerful, but I'm unsure if it's enough to take on the other kids."
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"Sam," I pushed again. "What is it about these supers that unnerve you so much?"
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Sam pursed his lips and looked up from his screen. "I don't need to discuss that with you yet."
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"Okay, fine. I was just curious." I clapped my hands together and grinned. "What's next on the agenda?"
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"I already have data from the other day," Sam replied.
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"Oh, come on, Sam. You're always pushing me harder, so what's wrong with this time?" He sighed, sinking his elbow into his desk.
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"James, I'm working on something rather important, and I need you to go upstairs right now."
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I grunted, dragging myself towards the staircase. "Fine, you win. I'll take a walk and find Derek."
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I heaved up the staircase and stopped at the top of the steps, expecting Sam's response, and Sam yelled at me from below. "Just a walk, James."
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"Whatever." I scowled and left the room, walking off up the steps.
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Derek and I ate cheeseburgers and fries in the Phantom burger parking lot in Derek's car. He watched me shove a few fries in my mouth before taking a big bite of his burger.
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"When are you going to tell dad about your powers? I'm ninety-nine percent certain he knows by now." Derek asked, stuffing another bite of his burger down his throat. I shoved fries into my lips again.
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"What about the point zero-one percent?" I questioned.
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"Well, Dad is," he paused. "Dad."
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True.
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"He probably knows," I admitted fault.
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Derek grinned as he finished the last bite of his burger. "Yep." He sat back and slid his tongue against his teeth.
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Something, or rather someone, outside shook the car. Derek snatched the bag of fries from my grip and gave me an icy stare.
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"You know how this works," he said as he pointed outside, his other hand snatching a fry. "Get out there," he said. I huffed, threw my hoodie over my head, and opened the door, only to be met by a boy standing outside the car, his hood covering his face. My fingers were curled into fists, poised to attack when he raised his hands in surrender.
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"Take it easy, mate." He had an Australian accent with a hint of American. I assumed he was the other super who had aided me during the police chase the day before, but I needed to check. "I'm here to help you," he admitted.
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Yep. My left brow furrowed in curiosity. "Who are you?"
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He laughed to himself as he ascended toward the sky. "I will not tell you that just now." He sighed after taking a deep breath.
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"Why are you looking for my uncle?" I questioned. He scoffed and landed near me on the sidewalk, his face to the ground.
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"What? Do you mean Sam?" He laughed with a grin. "What has he said about his past to you? Given that you have superpowers, he had to have said something." I moved my gaze around the area, staring at the kid. Derek opened the car door and gazed at both of us.
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"Great," Derek muttered, his taser buried in his hoodie. The super emerged beside him, trapping him against the car to force him to a halt. Derek dropped the taser and tensed as the super pinned him against the car door window.
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"Relax. I don't want to cause any trouble," The super said. Derek's panic dissipated when the boy let him go and backed away.
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"Why would you attack me like that if you're not here to hurt us?" Derek inquired, his voice screeching.
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The boy frowned and fixed his mask, still focused on the ground. "Mate, you pulled out your bloody taser. I'm not an idiot."
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"In fact," he said as he tapped his temple, transferring his voice into Derek's and my consciousness. "I can read your mind and transfer my thoughts." He tapped his temple once more, and we both looked at him.
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"Be careful what you think," he said, this time aloud. He fished his smartphone from his jeans pocket when it rang. "I have to leave. Raincheck?" He explored further. Then, he vanished into the darkness of night without a reply.
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Derek cursed aloud as he climbed back into the car and shut the door. I climbed inside the car and shut the door behind me, too. "We need to say something to Sam, and you have to tell dad your secret."
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I rolled my eyes, bothered by his stubbornness. "That guy didn't appear to be a danger."
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Derek hissed, "I don't trust him."
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"Why?" I asked. "He seemed to be a step up from the super we came across the other day."
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Derek sighed. "Did you miss the part when he pinned me against the car?"
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"No, but I'd like you to trust me. That guy is not the enemy." I muttered. I hoped he wasn't because something inside told me I could trust him.
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Derek tossed the bag of fries toward me. He yelled, "Just eat your damn fries, Superboy," as he shoved the keys into the ignition and started the car. Then, he quietly pulled away from the parking spot and toward our house.
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