Superpowerless

by Chris Priestley

  Again she comes to a halt, biting on her lips as though punishing them for what they had allowed to escape.

  ‘And yet?’

  ‘And yet it was me they said was screwed up,’ says Holly. ‘Me! He was allowed to mess with my mind but I wasn’t allowed to show it!’

  She throws her head back until the top of it rests against the wall.

  ‘I just lost it, you know? I absolutely lost it. I lost me. Do you know what I mean?’

  David nods. He did. He does. Holly doesn’t speak for a while and then quietly when she does.

  ‘So here I am,’ she says. ‘Back with my parents. A poor little damaged bird back in the nest.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ says David.

  ‘That you asked?’

  ‘No – that you’re a damaged bird.’

  Tears sprang to her eyes again.

  ‘You won’t make me blub,’ she says. ‘So don’t think you will.’

  But her voice is faltering. She smiles a crooked smile.

  ‘You’re a nice kid,’ she says. ‘Deep down. Ellen’s a lucky girl. I hope she knows.’

  Chapter 33

  The Truth Game

  Holly almost drops her drink when she walks out of the back door and sees David standing there on the lawn beside her sunlounger. She looks around, confused.

  ‘How the hell did you get into the garden?’ she says.

  David smiles and puts his hand through his hair.

  ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,’ he says.

  ‘Seriously,’ she says, looking past him, ‘did you climb over the fence? From where? What the –’

  ‘Shh,’ he says, patting the air with his palms and urging her to calm down, ‘and I’ll tell you.’

  ‘You’d better,’ she says, scowling. ‘Because spying on me is one thing; actually creeping up on me is another.’

  She sits down on the sunlounger. David can see how self-conscious she is in her bikini with him actually there nearby, hugging herself, covering herself.

  ‘Well?’ she says. ‘This better be good.’

  ‘First off, you’ve got to promise me that you won’t tell anyone about what I’m going to tell you.’

  She shakes her head.

  ‘David,’ she says with a sigh, ‘just get on with it.’

  ‘No,’ he says, his voice now deadly serious. ‘I’m not joking around. It’s really important. No one can know.’

  ‘No one can know what, you weirdo?’ says Holly. ‘You’re in my garden. Why have I got to promise anything?’

  ‘Promise,’ he says.

  ‘God – all right, all right. Tell me what the hell you’re doing in my garden, or I ring your mother right now.’

  David takes a breath, staring at his own feet for a moment, hesitating at the thought of such a momentous step. Can she be trusted? Can she? But he’s determined to go through with it and so he looks up at Holly and nods.

  As she looks on witheringly, David crouches down as if he is about to tie his shoelace and then springs up, leaving the ground, shooting into the air. Holly is so taken aback that she cries out and tumbles sideways on the lounger.

  David soars higher and higher until Holly can only see him as a speck against a distant cloud and then, with lightning speed, he hurtles back down, scattering leaves as he lands back on the grass two feet from where Holly sits, mouth agape.

  ‘You … You can …’

  He nods.

  ‘Fly,’ he says. ‘Yes. Yes, I can. And quite a bit more besides.’

  Holly pushes herself back into a seated position and puts her hand to her forehead, rubbing the furrows of her frown as though she is massaging her poor, befuddled brain.

  ‘What?’ she says. ‘You’re telling me you’re like, what – like Superman?’

  ‘We share some powers,’ he says. ‘Although Superman was never a favourite of mine. I was more of a –’

  ‘Wait. You’re a superhero?’ says Holly, peering at him. ‘Is that what you’re saying. You?’

  ‘I’m going to try not to be offended by that tone,’ says David with a grin. ‘But, yes – I’m a superhero. If that’s what you want to call it. I have superpowers. Not sure if I qualify as a hero exactly.’

  Holly puts her drink down and gets to her feet.

  ‘This is crazy!’ she says. ‘There’s no such things as superheroes.’

  ‘And yet …’ says David, grabbing hold of the metal pole the washing line hangs from and bending it with gentle pressure from one hand – and then back to straight again.

  ‘No!’ shrieks Holly. ‘It’s not possible.’

  ‘I know it seems that way,’ says David. ‘And I know I seem pretty unlikely as a superhero, but it’s the truth, I swear it.’

  ‘And no one knows?’ says Holly.

  David shakes his head.

  ‘A superhero identity pretty much always has to be a secret,’ he says. ‘Otherwise it gets complicated.’

  Holly nods, dazed.

  ‘I can see that it might. But then, why tell me?’

  David steps forward and reaches out to take her hand in his. She looks nervous – as though he might crush it.

  ‘Because I trust you,’ says David. ‘Because I want you to know the truth about me. Because I –’

  The door bangs open as Holly bursts in with the hoover.

  ‘Don’t you ever knock?’ says David.

  ‘Sorry – did I interrupt something?’ she says with a smirk.

  ‘What? No! I just think you should knock when you come into –’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ she says. ‘Boring. What’s happening, handsome?’

  ‘H-handsome?’

  Holly laughs.

  ‘You are looking kinda handsome today as it happens. It must be the light. Or maybe I forgot to put my lenses in.’

  ‘Very funny.’

  ‘So what’s new?’

  ‘Nothing much. Er … saw Ellen yesterday.’

  He impresses himself with how nonchalant he sounds.

  ‘Yeah? How’s that going?’

  ‘Good,’ says David. ‘It’s going good.’

  ‘Uh-huh? So are you two serious?’

  There is an odd tone to Holly’s voice. David can’t quite make out what it signifies, but it’s there, bubbling under the surface.

  ‘Well, you know, I wouldn’t say –’

  ‘I need to get on, David.’

  She turns away from him and starts cleaning.

  ‘Wait – can’t we talk?’

  ‘Talk?’ she says with a sigh. ‘Talk?’

  David frowns, confused at the exasperated way she says the word.

  ‘OK. You want to talk? Well, I’ve got a game we should play.’

  ‘A game? What kind of a game?’

  ‘A truth game.’

  ‘A what?’

  Holly bends over and, picking up his oversized tennis ball, sits down at his desk.

  ‘Whoever holds the ball has to tell the truth.’

  ‘Huh?’ says David.

  ‘Whoever is holding the ball has to answer the other person’s questions truthfully,’ she repeats. ‘And the other person can ask whatever they like.’

  ‘What?’ says David. ‘Why?’

  ‘You said you wanted to talk.’

  ‘Yeah – but that’s not the same as playing some weird truth game.’

  ‘But that’s the point,’ she says.

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Talking for us isn’t a truth game, is it?’

  David scowls. What is this?

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because we’re both liars, David,’ says Holly. ‘Don’t you see? Wouldn’t it be interesting to tell the truth. Just for once. Just us. Liar to liar.’

  David mumbles something inaudible.

  ‘What? Are you really going to protest that you are in fact a person who tells the truth? We both know that isn’t the case.’

  David knows it would be useless to protest. She passes the ball to him.


  ‘Why do I have to start?’

  ‘Why not? Did you have sex with Ellen?’

  What is this? he thinks. Can girls just read my mind? Resistance is clearly futile.

  ‘No,’ says David after a long pause.

  ‘And I’m guessing you aren’t still seeing her.’

  He shakes his head.

  ‘You see?’ she says. ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’

  And it isn’t so bad. David has to admit that, oddly, he does feel a little better not having to persist with that particular lie. It would have just got more and more complicated, and life seems complicated enough.

  ‘My turn,’ says David.

  He throws the ball to Holly and she catches it in one hand.

  ‘Well?’ she says.

  ‘Do you love Mark?’

  Holly stares at him.

  ‘No,’ she says.

  He waits for more, but there isn’t going to be any – that is all too clear from Holly’s face. She drops the ball on the floor and smiles.

  ‘Enough questions for today, I think.’

  Chapter 34

  A Big Deal About Everything

  David slumps back onto the sofa as though he’s been shot. No. No. No.

  ‘Do I have to?’

  ‘Yes,’ says his mother. ‘Come on, David – after dinner you can do whatever you like, but you’re going to eat with us like a normal human being.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he says.

  ‘What? It’s normal to talk to people,’ she says. ‘It’s normal to socialise with friends.’

  ‘But they’re not my friends.’

  ‘Not like Joe, you mean?’ she says.

  ‘Why are you bringing Joe into this?’

  ‘No reason,’ she says, with a weird smile.

  Why is she mentioning Joe?

  ‘Anyway, you’ve known them all your life. And you like Mark.’

  ‘Not especially,’ says David.

  She stares at him, but there’s nothing he can say.

  ‘Since when?’

  David doesn’t respond.

  ‘David?’

  ‘Forget it.’

  She opens her mouth to say something, but thinks better of it, alternately straightening her fingers and clenching them into fists.

  ‘Look, I don’t know what’s the matter. All I’m asking you to do is eat some nice food and be pleasant for an hour or so. I’m a terrible mother. Report me.’

  David groans like an injured bear, squeezing his eyes tight shut and grimacing. She snaps.

  ‘For God’s sake, David, you go from zombie to drama queen in an instant. Stop making such a big deal out of everything.’

  This is a favourite phrase of hers and it never fails to rile him. He doesn’t make a big deal out of everything. He doesn’t make a big deal out of most things in fact. That’s kind of his style – not making a big deal out of things. He makes a small deal out of big deals if anything.

  But sometimes things are, incontrovertibly, a massive great huge deal and they have to be acknowledged as such. Or else how would you ever know what is and what isn’t. A big deal, that is.

  Maybe when you get to a certain age some things stop being such a big deal. But when you’re sixteen – well, there’s really no limit to how big a deal something can be. It could be so big it could block out the sun. Maybe forever.

  But David knows from bitter experience that there’s no point in sharing these thoughts. Things are only ever as important as the person listening decides them to be. They demand you have the same sense of scale as them.

  David’s mother is already busying herself around the kitchen, talking to herself and opening cupboards and drawers like she’s doing an inventory of everything they possess. David leaves her to it. What can he say?

  ‘Hey!’ she calls as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. ‘I could do with some help later. I realise you have a lot on.’

  ‘OK,’ he says over his shoulder.

  David’s bedroom has felt like a sanctuary ever since his father died. It seems to have a sense of being a joint space – part David’s and part his father’s. This is of course both sweet and sour. He is painfully reminded of his father’s absence and also comforted by the memory of the office it had once been – an office that David had only ever been allowed to peek into. Don’t disturb your father. Don’t disturb your father.

  It doesn’t feel quite like a sanctuary now though, and it’s David’s fault. It is tainted. David has sullied it, cheapened it, with his spying, with his febrile, sweaty thoughts, with his naked, squirming imaginings.

  David lies on his bed and clamps his eyes tight shut. Everything is so big, so deep, all of a sudden. How is he just supposed to sit there and chat with Mark as though nothing has happened? How is that even possible?

  He has promised Holly not to say anything – but he had hoped that this might simply involve avoiding Mark altogether.

  He doesn’t have the luxury of being able to tell Mark what a hypocrite he knows he is. How he would love to puncture that cosy little bubble. The look on their faces –

  But no – he has Holly’s trust and that is important to him. He wants to be worthy of it. He has an opportunity to demonstrate that he isn’t a little kid – that he can show some maturity when he needs to. This is grown-up stuff by any reckoning and he is going to deal with it like a man.

  All David’s resolve to pull himself together and behave sensibly dissolves, however, as soon as Mark walks through the door with Marie, a bottle of wine in his hand and a toothy grin on his face. Only then does David realise quite how much he despises him.

  ‘Hey, David,’ says Mark.

  ‘Hey.’

  Mark laughs, slapping him on the arm. It is all David can do to stop himself lashing out and punching Mark in the face.

  ‘You’re clearly delighted to see us,’ says Mark, misreading his rage for sullenness. ‘Are we forcing ourselves on you, young man?’

  ‘Don’t start being annoying, David,’ says his mother.

  He ignores her and stares at Mark, who frowns back, his smile faltering. David registers the slight shift. He is making Mark a little uncomfortable. It feels good. That in itself isn’t wrong, surely? Why should he give him an easy ride? He doesn’t see why he is under any obligation to be pleasant to him.

  Mark hands the wine to David’s mother and Marie takes her jacket off and starts talking to her as she cooks – something she has told Marie time and time again she doesn’t like.

  ‘Please sit,’ she says.

  Marie doesn’t take the hint and carries on a one-way conversation, following David’s mother about as she tends to her pans. Mark sits down and David joins him.

  ‘So,’ says Mark. ‘What’s happening with you, David?’

  ‘Nothing much,’ he replies.

  ‘Not still stuck in that room, I hope,’ he says with a wink.

  ‘Actually,’ says David, ‘I went to the Lapwing Festival with a friend.’

  David’s mother drops a pan noisily into the sink, making them all turn to face her. She smiles back – the same odd smile she’d used on David earlier.

  ‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘Why don’t you tell us all about the festival, David?’

  ‘I’ve always wanted to go to that,’ says Mark. ‘Marie says I’m too old.’

  ‘You are too old,’ calls Marie. ‘Isn’t he, David?’

  David barely even registers that Marie has spoken and makes no reply. He is still looking at his mother out of the corner of his eye as she prepares the food. She is behaving strangely. Why?

  ‘Pah!’ says Mark. ‘I bet there were loads of people my age, weren’t there?’

  ‘Some,’ says David.

  ‘You see!’ shouts Mark.

  ‘David’s just humouring you.’

  Mark smiles and takes the glass of wine Marie hands him, sipping appreciatively.

  ‘That’s nice. That’s very nice.’

  David studies Mark’s face.
He looks different somehow. Smaller. Weaker. He realises he has never really looked at Mark before – not properly. What on earth does Holly see in him?

  ‘What about girls?’

  ‘What?’ says David.

  ‘Stop it, Mark,’ says Marie. ‘Don’t embarrass him.’

  ‘I’m not embarrassing you, am I?’

  David shakes his head. He doesn’t give a toss.

  ‘You see!’

  Marie and David’s mother start bringing the food over.

  ‘This looks delicious, Donna,’ says Mark.

  ‘It really does,’ says Marie, sitting down.

  ‘Sorry,’ whispers Mark to David.

  He winks at him.

  ‘I’ve got a girlfriend actually. She’s called Ellen,’ says David.

  ‘What?’ says his mother, joining them. ‘No, you haven’t.’

  ‘Yes, I have,’ he says, still looking at Mark. ‘She invited me to that party the other night. She went to the festival with me and Joe.’

  ‘Oh,’ says his mother. ‘Really? You didn’t say. But then there’s so much you don’t say.’

  There is an awkward pause during which they all look at David, knives and forks poised. But David says nothing else.

  ‘Please,’ says his mother with a sigh, ‘start. Don’t let it go cold.’

  ‘I didn’t know she was going,’ says David. ‘That’s why –’

  ‘Sorry,’ says Mark, looking at David’s mother. ‘I didn’t mean to say anything to –’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ she says, smiling. ‘You know how kids are – full of secrets. I’m the last person to know anything.’

  ‘Pretty, is she?’ asks Mark.

  Marie slaps him and frowns.

  ‘Yeah,’ says David. ‘She is. I mean, not as pretty as Holly.’

  ‘David! What an odd thing to say,’ says his mother.

  Marie chuckles. David sees Mark bristle at the mention of Holly’s name. He peers at David, searching his face.

  ‘Thank goodness your girlfriend wasn’t around to hear that,’ says his mother.

  David can tell by her voice she thinks he’s making it up. Which in a way he is. But still, he finds it annoying.

  ‘She is very pretty though, it’s true,’ says Marie. ‘Holly, I mean.’

  ‘Don’t encourage him,’ says David’s mother. ‘I had no idea he’d even noticed Holly.’