Still, he couldn’t complain—Quinn always had to be up earlier because BNG opened at six-thirty. Kaffee VonSolln opened at eight o’clock, but the morning baristas need to be at the shop at least thirty minutes prior to opening to set up. That didn’t stop the diehards from lining up for their coffee.
Today though, he did not mind getting up early and getting out of the house. Last night, his parents had gone to one of the local legion bars and his father had imbibed far too many drinks and barely made it home. Other patrons had to help put his drunk father into the car so his mother could unsafely drive them home. When she got home, she woke Blake up and asked him to help bring his father inside because he had passed out. Blake carried his unconscious father into the house, where he dropped him into his favorite recliner. His mother apologized profusely but Blake shrugged it off, telling her it didn't matter because she enabled him.
As he pedaled to work, his mind drifted away from his drunken father back to his late-night texts with Quinn, who still struggled with the mystery of their developing super powers. Blake felt envious of his buddy’s more obvious and seemingly easier powers but kept his mouth shut.
If I had those powers, I'd fix Darien for good and make sure bullies like him stop picking on the little guys. Who knows, maybe it would be cool to be closet superheroes. Or, better yet, what could I gain by taking things from others? Quinn’s had it easy, but I've had to scrape along and find my way. It isn't fair. Maybe it’s time I exploit others to get ahead the way they’ve exploited me.
Blake absentmindedly aimed his bike for a puddle and sighed.
If only I could figure out…
Ka-thunk!
The front tire of Blake’s bike dropped down into the puddle and abruptly stopped spinning. The back wheel came off the ground and proceeded to rotate upward over the front axle, causing Blake to endo, or flip over the handlebars and crash.
Shit!
Blake saw the ground coming at him and he closed his eyes and placed his hands in front of him.
This is gonna hurt.
But there was no pain. Blake peeled open an eye and saw the ground several inches beneath his body.
What the heck? Am I floating?
A split second later, Blake’s body descended to the ground and he grunted. “Oh man,” Blake said. Then he realized he spoke out loud. He looked around, but there were no signs of life around him and he didn’t think anyone heard his bike crash to the pavement. He pushed himself off the ground and picked up his bike. Since he hadn’t hit the ground, he wasn’t sore or in pain. He checked the front tire, which miraculously had not punctured. The wheel’s rim and spokes didn’t seem damaged, but his front wheel-to-handlebar alignment was off a few degrees.
He pulled out his phone and texted Quinn: Need to talk to you after work - something new.
He pocketed his phone and looked around again. He still didn’t see anyone. He shrugged, mounted his bike, and pedaled to the shop.
❖
Blake pedaled through Strawberry Banke to Prescott Park. He crossed the grassy park and scanned the three public piers for Quinn, spotting him and his bike on the pier closest to the Memorial Bridge. He shook his head when the overwhelming sense of proximity to Quinn echoed in his mind. The sensing thing seemed easier to handle today.
The Piscataqua River rushed beneath his feet as he walked his bike to the lookout where Quinn, shirtless, was getting some sun while watching the Moran tugboats guide a large cargo ship to the waterway under the raised drawbridge. Quinn glanced over his shoulder when he heard Blake approaching.
“Hey, what's up? Sensed you coming,” Quinn teased.
“Yeah, that’s not going away is it?”
“Nope, I don’t think so.”
“I have something important to tell you,” Blake answered, resting his bike against the wooden railings. He pulled off his coffee-smelling T-shirt and tucked it into his jeans. Then he leaned on the railing next to Quinn and watched the ship as it passed under the bridge.
“You okay?” Blake asked, noting the odd quiet surrounding his buddy.
Quinn nodded. “Yeah, didn't sleep well and it was crazy busy today.”
“You gonna be able to go running in a bit?” Blake asked. Coach expected them to run seven miles that day.
“Yeah, I'll be fine. So, what's this news?”
“I flew today,” Blake said softly.
Quinn spun around and stared at Blake. “You're kidding.”
“Well, more like levitated or floated…I’m not really sure which.” Blake shared his spectacular morning wipe out with Quinn and described the sensation of hovering over the ground for a few seconds. The boys leaned over the railing again and stared at the churning river water.
“Saw my life flash before my eyes when I endo’d. Bottom line, my face should be torn up with road rash but it’s not.”
“Wow,” Quinn said. “That would be the best super power ever.”
“Flight?”
“Yeah.”
“I dunno. I think I’d rather be able to move things like Magneto can, but move anything—not just metals.”
“I stand corrected. I’d rather do that than fly.”
“What are you two lovebirds up to?” a harsh, familiar voice called out.
Quinn’s shoulders dropped in disappointment as he glanced over his shoulder.
“Great, just who I wanted to bump into today.” Blake muttered, his soul descending into anger and frustration.
“Careful, Blake” Quinn whispered. “We don’t need to set off any of our known or unknown powers in public. Still, it’d be fun to soak him with dirty harbor water. That I could do right now.”
Blake chuckled.
Darien’s flip-flops smacked the wooden decking as he approached. He was alone; Kyle and Tony were nowhere to be seen.
Not today.
Blake turned around and stepped forward. “You can turn around and get lost, Darien. We are not in the mood for your bullshit today.”
Darien stopped, his face awash with astonishment. “Okay, okay. Sheesh, I only wanted to say hi to my best friends.”
“We’re not your best friends, Darien,” Blake said. “Best friends don’t harass and bully each other the way you do.”
“You’re right,” Darien said, offering a smile that quickly turned wicked. “What was I thinking? You guys suck. See you later, losers.” Darien flipped them the bird and turned. He retraced his footsteps across Prescott Park and retreated.
Quinn shook his head and leaned on the railing again. “He’s not as big an asshole when he doesn’t have an audience.”
Blake chuckled and rested his hands on the railing in front of him. The aft section of the cargo ship and the last tugboat passed under the draw bridge. “So, you’re really certain that’s what this is, we have super powers?” Blake asked. “I know we’ve said it jokingly, but…”
Quinn nodded. “Totally. I think we’re gaining super powers. How else do you explain what’s going on? The only thing I can’t figure out is how or why they get triggered when they do.”
“I know what you mean. But you seem to control yours, right? I mean, like the water thing you can do.”
Quinn shrugged. “That’s where it falls apart. I wasn’t angry or falling off my bicycle. I was showering when it started. You get upset with Darien and burn the ground. I boiled water with a customer near me. How this is all happening doesn’t make any sense to me and it’s frustrating as hell, especially when somehow I stopped that car and…”
Quinn stopped and stared at the drawbridge as it slowly descended to road-level height so traffic between Maine and New Hampshire could resume.
“Saved that kid’s life?”
“Yeah,” Quinn said softly.
“I know that upsets you, but you did a good thing.”
“But what if we never figure this out, Blake? What if we’re just one big hidden danger to our families and friends? Hell, what if we blow up the school or something? What if our c
hances for a normal life were destroyed in that stupid cave?”
“All right, stop,” Blake said. “Take a deep breath. Seriously!”
Quinn side-eyed Blake.
“I mean it, take a deep breath.”
Quinn inhaled and exhaled.
“You’re Mister Positivity around here. You’re the one who’s always helping people, pulling them up when they’re down, and encouraging them when they feel like failures. What would you be telling yourself right now?”
Quinn chuckled. “I have no idea, dude. That’s why I’m freaking out.”
“Okay, try it a different way. We’ve loved comic books and superhero things since we were kids, when we’ve always wanted super powers. Now, we have a strong possibility of having what no one else has. What have you always said you’d do with super powers?”
Quinn chuckled. “That I’d use my powers to help people and do good things, just like a real superhero would.”
“All right, then. That’s what you’ll do.”
“What about you?”
“I will not be your sidekick,” Blake said, chuckling.
“What about becoming a dynamic duo with an equal partnership?” Quinn asked.
“Maybe. But honestly, I don’t want to do the same things you do. I want to figure out how to put people like Darien in their place.”
“That doesn’t sound like being a superhero,” Quinn said hesitantly.
“Oh, it is, just in a different way. Sometimes the bullies need to get cut.”
“Are you talking about hurting people?”
“Not badly.”
Quinn rolled his eyes. “You just can’t become the super villain, okay? The last thing I need is to fight my best friend.”
“Right.”
Bells rang out as the red and white crossing gates on the bridge raised so cars could traverse over the bridge once more.
“I really think we need to talk with Mr. St. Germain tomorrow after school or during his free period.”
“You're sure about that?” Blake asked, swatting a fly away.
“Yeah, we need to talk with someone about this and he knows so much geeky stuff about comic book superheroes. He'd be perfect, and I trust him. I bet he could help us figure out how to control what's going on with these powers. I'm pretty sure, given how much he loves comics, he’d be totally cool knowing and protecting our secret identities and all that. If we can get him in the science room with the lab stations, I have just the trick to prove to him that we're not crazy.”
“Well, that didn't take long,” Blake said, smiling.
“What do you mean?”
“Five minutes ago, you were all upset about having these powers, now you're all about learning how to use them and building a team.”
Quinn smiled. “Hey, talking to you helped. If we could control them, we won't be so scary or dangerous to people. You know what happens if the police—or people like Victor Kraze—catch on to our level of freak. We get captured and experimented on by the government.”
Blake burst out laughing. “We definitely watch too much T.V.”
❖
Blake sat cross-legged on his bed in his red boxer shorts, staring at the cup of water across the room on his desk. He tried to make the water float, splash, bubble, move…anything that Quinn could do with water.
Nothing.
Downstairs, his parents argued with loud voices about his dad’s lack of consideration toward his mom and Blake. He struggled to tune it out because now, like Quinn, his hearing and vision had become enhanced and he struggled to control it. For the past hour, kitchen cabinets slammed and hands pounded on countertops or the kitchen table—all excruciatingly painful sounds to Blake.
Blake rolled his eyes and shook his head when his father started swearing at his mother. He’d probably head out to one of the local bars and drink away his anger and problems until they kicked him out—if the bouncers even let him in—while his mom sat at home crying to herself while watching reality television.
“Blake!” his father, Ralph yelled. “Get down here!”
Startled, Blake froze at his father’s incredibly loud voice. He blinked his eyes and shook his head to alleviate the pain. He took a deep breath, uncrossed his legs, and pushed himself up. Then he padded down the stairs in his bare feet and walked into the kitchen.
“Yeah?” he said with more annoyance than he wanted to.
“It’s not his fault,” Stella, his mother said, in tears.
“This is totally his fault,” Ralph ranted, shoving a folded letter at him.
Blake noted their voices came through at normal volume while they were in the same room. Blake’s brow wrinkled as he reached for the paper, his father shaking it impatiently. He took it from his father and unfolded it. “What’s this?” he asked, trying to make sense of the strange looking letter.
“This,” Ralph said, grabbing the paper out of Blake’s hand and shaking it, “is your fucking hospital bill.” He shoved the letter back into Blake’s hand and pointed—slapped—the bottom of the letter where some larger print announced: Amount Due: $29,568.00.
Blake’s heart sank. Under it, smaller print indicated the hospital would try to bill their insurance first, but he knew their meager insurance would be insufficient to cover that kind of damage.
“I should sue Quinn’s parents for this. If you hadn't gone with them…”
“It's not their fault,” Blake said, trying to keep his temper calm. The last thing he wanted to do was scorch the kitchen or set fire to his house.
“Don’t talk back to me,” his father yelled, stepping closer to Blake.
Blake looked up from the letter, surprised. His father rarely threatened him with physical violence. Is this gonna be one of those times?
“I’m just saying that…”
“You’re saying nothing!” Ralph snapped. “The hospital is gouging us for thirty-thousand dollars because you passed out in the woods and had to stay there four nights, not to mention a stupidly expensive ambulance ride.”
Blake stared at his father, unable to speak.
“He did die, Ralph,” Stella argued, her voice wavering as she recalled the circumstances of the accident. “They were struck by lightning and died when they got to the hospital, then they had to resuscitate him. Then they kept him for observation. You don’t think that wasn’t cheap?”
Ralph turned around and stared at his wife. “Whose side are you on, Stella? Ours or theirs?”
“Ours, of course,” Stella snapped.
“Then stop defending them.”
“What do you want me to do?” Blake inquired, not wanting to participate in a useless fight that wouldn’t make anything better. “I don’t make enough money at the coffee shop to pay that back and Quinn…”
“Quinn,” Ralph echoed loudly. “I ought to forbid you from seeing that queer boy. He’s nothing but trouble and look at the mess he’s gotten us into.”
The words against Quinn stung bitterly. The light bulbs flickered briefly and made a strange zapping sound. At the same time, Blake noticed sweat beading on his father’s forehead as his mother fanned herself.
Oh shit.
“That boy,” Blake said angrily, feeling his temperature running hot, “is my best friend and I’m not going to stop seeing him no matter what you say. It’s not like we’re twelve and we robbed a store. We had an accident on a camping trip!”
“And you’re alive,” Stella added.
“I need to go outside,” Blake said, his voice trembling with rage and hurt. He side-stepped past his father, careful not to touch him, and made his way to the back door. A recessed light bulb flashed and popped in its fixture above him.
“I’m not done with you, get back here.”
“I need to go outside,” Blake repeated. “It’s too hot in here.” I need to get out before I burn you alive.
“Dammit,” his father said, wiping his forehead. “Why is it so hot in here?” Then he followed his son out the door. “Hey,
where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m just going outside!” Blake yelled, reaching for the door knob and hesitating at the last second. Please don’t melt.
He grabbed the metal knob and opened the door. It remained intact, but he felt the temperature difference between his hot hand and the room temperature knob.
“Get back here,” his father yelled, chasing after him.
“I don’t feel well, I need to get outside,” Blake insisted. “Leave me alone.”
Blake looked around as he hustled across the small deck in his bare feet to the stairs that brought him down to the concrete patio. It was about ten-feet across and twelve feet deep. I hope this is big enough.
He wrapped his arms around himself like he was cold and tried to calm down.
“I will not leave you alone!” Ralph said, standing on the top of the deck. “I don’t make enough money to pay this. Neither does your mother.”
“So, what do you want me to do about it?” Blake yelled, exasperated, trying to figure out where to escape to since he couldn’t stop the intense heat he felt across his shirtless body. “It’s not my goddamn fault I got struck by lightning!”
“You’re an idiot, Blake,” Ralph snapped. “A stupid, motherfucking…”
Blake grimaced as the familiar words cut deep.
“…lazy, good-for-nothing kid…”
Across the street, the street light sizzled and popped. The houselights around him blinked on and off as if the neighborhood was experiencing a brown out. Wait, am I doing that?
“…who will never amount to anything big in this world.”
Blake sensed electricity pulsing and flowing in the air around him.
“Take that back!” he yelled, dropping his hands in anger and stepping forward. Then he stopped, catching himself. Aw, crap…too late.
The outside lights of the nearby houses flashed, popped, and went out. Around him, Blake felt heat explode outward from his body. Power churned behind his eyes. Shit, they’re glowing. Don’t look at dad…
He looked down and saw the concrete scorching around him. He briefly looked up to see his father distracted by the blinking and popping lights around them. In the dark, he wouldn’t notice the burned concrete.
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