Blake turned and ran past the house to the sidewalk, forgetting he only wore boxer shorts. He ran fast down the street to the house with the inground pool owned by the older couple he had mowed lawns for when he was thirteen to make extra cash. He knew it’d be risky and hoped his feet didn’t leave burnt footprints on the sidewalk, but he needed to cool himself down somehow before he accidentally hurt his dad.
Running faster than usual, he approached the fenced yard of the large house. He saw lights in the front of the house and hoped no one was in the back. Somewhere behind him, his father was calling his name and cursing after him. He flipped the latch to the fence gate and let himself quietly into the back yard and then lowered himself into the shallow end of the pool. The cool September water steamed and hissed around him as it reacted to the high temperature of his skin body.
Seriously? How hot am I?
He waded, then swam, to the deeper part of the pool and took a deep breath. Then he let himself sink under the cool water.
Peace.
Only the loud hum of the filter pump—enhanced by his new hearing power—and the gurgling noises of the skimmer reached his ears. When his lungs should have begged for air, he swam upward and quietly exhaled while looking around. No one was there. The water around his shoulders bubbled and he could see the steam rising off his nose. He raised a hand out of the water and watched the steam disappear into the night sky. Several more deep breaths and journeys under the water’s surface cooled him off, both physically and emotionally.
Finally, his eyes stopped glowing.
Blake swam back to the shallow end and quietly pushed himself out of the pool. He sat on the edge, his feet dangling in the water, not ready to leave the serenity he had discovered. He adjusted his cotton boxers and noted how they looked darker, but not from being wet—they looked as though they had been evenly burnt. Great, just great. One of these days I’m gonna burn my clothes off and find myself naked in front of someone.
He sighed and closed his eyes momentarily to listen. His father was no longer calling for him. Guess I’ll have to deal with him one way or the other.
Blake stood, trying not to make too many splashing or dripping sounds, and then made his way back to his house.
1-12 | Answers
Quinn
“HEY, MISTER ST. GERMAIN.” QUINN said, greeting his science teacher as he walked into the empty science lab their teacher had dubbed the Lair of Awesomeness. Blake followed behind him.
Mr. St. Germain looked up from a book and smiled. “Hey, guys, what’s up?”
“Can we talk to you?” Quinn asked nervously, his voice wavering. “In private?”
“Um, sure. Shut the door. That’s about the best I can do for you in a classroom.”
“Thanks,” Blake said, closing the door.
Quinn purposely walked over to one of the black and faux-wood lab tables with running water and turned on the cold tap. Blake walked next to him and stood on Quinn’s left side.
“I think you’ll want to come see this.”
“Okay,” Mr. St. Germain said, sighing as he tilted his head to one side. “You boys aren’t pranking me, right?”
“Not at all,” Quinn said, vigorously shaking his head from side to side.
Mr. St. Germain pushed himself up from his squeaky desk chair and walked through a row of student desks to the lab side of the classroom.
“We just need to make sure we can swear you to secrecy,” Blake said.
“Um, well, I can’t promise that. As a teacher, I’m an obligatory reporter. If you or someone you know plans on hurting themselves…”
Quinn waved his hand. “It’s nothing like that, I promise,” he said, interrupting his teacher. “This is just, uh, really sensitive information and we can’t trust just anyone with it. That's why we need you to swear to secrecy.”
Mr. St. Germain stopped at the lab table and looked at the running water, then at Blake, then at Quinn. “Are you boys in trouble? And is there a reason you’re running the cold water?”
“Yes. But first you have to promise not to tell anyone what we’re about to show you.”
“Maybe. No promises. No swearing of secrecy—yet.”
Quinn looked at Blake, who shrugged at him. “We have no choice, Quinn. We picked him for a reason.”
“Picked me?” Mr. St. Germain repeated.
Quinn nodded. Here goes nothing.
“Do you remember several weeks ago when you were talking about the X-Men’s origin stories, and how some of them got their super powers in strange, unexplainable ways? Like the Incredible Hulk through accidental exposure to gamma rays?”
“The Hulk is an Avenger, not one of the X-Men. Those are mutants who are born with unique abilities that emerge at some point in time if not at birth. That’s completely different from…”
“Yeah,” Quinn said, raising his hand. “We get it. We're talking about non-mutants and non-aliens like Superman, but the ones who acquired their super powers like the Hulk, the Flash or the Green Lantern.”
“Does Deadpool count?” Blake asked.
“Good question,” Quinn answered.
“Maybe,” Mr. St. Germain said, nodding to the sink. “And the water is running why?”
“When those folks got their super powers, did they know what was going on at first?”
“Of course not,” Mr. St. Germain said, smiling, ready to share a seed of truth from his wealth of comic knowledge. “There was a lot of trial and error before they figured out what was going on with them. Kinda like your bodies going through puberty. It can be obnoxious as heck but it's totally necessary to learn and grow into young adults. All of those comic characters who acquired their powers had to learn what triggered their powers, how to temper or control their powers if they could, and learn to use them for good or, if they were the villains, evil. For a lot of those folks, everything changed in one day and they couldn’t go back to their old life even if they wanted to, no matter how hard they tried.”
“And, who helped those folks?”
“Well,” Mr. St. Germain said, crossing his arms while thinking for a moment. “Most of them had some kind of mentor to help them sort out their abilities and adapt to normal life while balancing their superhero lives with their everyday lives. That’s not always the case, though. Spider-man didn’t have a mentor, but that depends on which storyline you’re following. You still haven’t told me why the water is running. Do you think the room is bugged and you’re trying to make white noise?”
Quinn looked at Blake and nodded. Blake walked around Quinn and positioned himself so his body blocked the view of the water faucet from the classroom door’s window.
Quinn swallowed and looked his teacher in the eyes. “Well, Mister St. Germain, it’s no longer a comic book story because that day came and went for us. Today, this is the day everything changes for you.”
Mr. St. Germain’s right eyebrow curled up. “Quinn, are you, um…”
“What?” Quinn said, eyeing Blake nervously.
“Are you trying to come out to me?”
Blake burst out laughing and clapped his hands together.
Holy crap, how did he miss all the hints we’ve been putting in front of him?
“It’s totally okay, you know. I don’t care if you’re gay or straight in my classroom. I just want you to get a good grade.”
“Yeah, um, that’s not what we’re talking about…at all,” Quinn said.
“Oh. I’m sorry if I said something uncomfortable and…”
“It’s okay,” Quinn said. “I’m gay, but that’s not why we’re here…this is.” He focused and shifted the water’s path so it moved up into the air between them and then neatly flowed back down into the sink drain.
“What the hell?” Mr. St. Germain said, startled, mouth falling agape as he stared at the impossible, gravity-defying stream of water. “Are you doing that?” he whispered.
Quinn raised his hand to make it painfully obvious. The water shifted int
o an S-pattern as Quinn’s hand moved around it. “S for Saint Germain.”
“How?” Mr. St. Germain asked, flabbergasted.
Quinn dropped his hand and the water splashed into the sink and resumed its normal flow.
“Okay,” Mr. St. Germain said excitedly. “Tell me everything.”
Twenty minutes later, the boys finished retelling their strange experience in the mysterious underground cave and their ordeal in the hospital, including the perplexing Agent Victor Kraze and the web of lies around their recovery. When they finished telling Mr. St. Germain about the phenomena they had been experiencing at home, work, and at school, he started asking questions.
“So, these things happened, and you can or can’t control them?” Mr. St. Germain asked.
“That’s the thing,” Quinn said. “At first, it’s always by accident. But if I work at it, I can start to control it. Making water do things is my easiest trick.”
Mr. St. Germain looked at Blake.
“I can’t control anything yet,” Blake said. “These things happen and I don’t have the ability to control them, although last night when I got pissed at my dad I was able to diffuse it before I burnt the house down.”
“How’d you do that?” Quinn asked.
“I ran down the street—like really fast—in my boxers and jumped in a neighbor’s pool. I did scorch my dad’s patio, though. I don’t think my parents have seen it yet.”
“Oh boy,” Quinn said. “You ran really fast?”
“You scorched the ground?”
Blake answered Quinn first. “Yeah, like way faster than I normally run.” Then he addressed Mr. St. Germain’s question. “When I get hot, I create intense heat you can feel that usually scorches or burns whatever is around me, like pavement or grass.”
“Did you make those round burn marks in the parking lot?”
“Maybe,” Blake said.
“I saw those and wondered what had happened.”
“Yeah, Darien was being a prick and he pissed me off.”
“Is that the trigger? Anger?” Mr. St. Germain asked.
Quinn could tell his mind was working overtime trying to understand and explain what was going on.
“I’m not sure,” Blake answered.
“Quinn, when you first realized you could make the water move in the shower, what was going on?”
“Um, I was showering?”
Mr. St. Germain chucked. “Yeah, I got that part. That’s not what I meant. What I mean is, what were you thinking about, if it’s appropriate for me to hear?”
“Oh.” Quinn chuckled, thinking back to that morning. “It was the first morning back in my own house, the Friday we came back to school just over a week ago. I had just gotten in the shower and I was thinking about Victor Kraze and the lies that we were being told and our parents had been told.”
“Okay, Blake, when you first…”
“Wait,” Quinn said. He pointed to the cabinets that held the chemistry glassware. “That was the day the beakers exploded. I think that was me. I was thinking about Keegan Miller.”
“You were thinking about Keegan?” Mr. St. Germain repeated.
“He has a crush on him,” Blake explained.
Quinn elbowed his buddy. “I don’t need that getting around, you know.”
“Sorry.”
“No problem, that’s one secret I can keep,” Mr. St. Germain said, smiling. “Okay…um…Blake, when you maybe-sort-of burnt Darien’s arm and scorched the parking lot, what were you thinking about?”
“Punching him in the face, probably. He had just made one of his stupid Quinn the Queer jokes and I got pissed off.”
“Wait, you got pissed off and the heat happened?” Mr. St. Germain asked, his voice bubbling with excitement.
“I think so.”
“Quinn, slightly awkward question, but what were you feeling when you made the water dance in the shower?”
“I was thinking about the lies and feeling very frustrated by the whole thing.”
“And Blake, when you almost burnt the house down last night? What were you feeling?”
“I was super-irritated with my dad when he started telling me I was an idiot. I felt hurt. You’d think I’d be used to it by now but…”
“You should never get used to being put down, Blake,” Mr. St. Germain said.
“I guess not.”
“That’s it!” Mr. St. Germain exclaimed, clapping his hands.
“What is?” the boys said together.
“These things aren’t connected to what you’re necessarily thinking, but right now they’re totally inspired by what’s happening around you. Your budding powers, for lack of a better word, seemed to be tied to your emotions.”
Quinn and Blake looked at each other. It can’t be that simple.
“But I can control water without feeling frustrated. Wouldn’t I need to feel frustrated in order to do that?”
“Not necessarily. A lot of things can impact why you can access some of your powers on demand such as your comfortability with emotions, emotional maturity, the maturation of your powers, the powers you have available to you based on what’s going on. This is obviously a completely undiscovered realm of science…”
“That’s why we need your help,” Quinn said emphatically. “We can’t figure this out.”
“Right. What were you feeling when you stopped the car?” Mr. St. Germain asked.
“I was afraid…no, I was horrified.”
“And when you hovered over the ground, Blake?” Mr. St. Germain asked.
“I was surprised.”
“Not scared or shocked?”
“No, it happened too fast for that.” Blake took a deep breath and shifted his weight from his left foot to his right foot. “Definitely surprised.”
“This explains why I almost blew up my room when I…” Quinn abruptly stopped speaking. He felt himself blush when he realized what he was about to share.
Mr. St. Germain and Blake looked at him, expecting him to continue.
Quinn shrugged and looked at Blake, making a you-should-know-what-I’m-talking-about-face. “You know!”
Blake’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “Oh right. Yeah, I noticed that, too.”
“Mind letting me in on this?” Mr. St. Germain asked.
“Uh…” Quinn said. “It was early morning, I was thinking about Keegan, and I, um, took matters into my own hand…”
Mr. St. Germain raised his hand. “Stop. I get it.” He paused to think. “So…for both of you…feelings of arousal or lust make things…I can’t believe I’m going to say this…explode?”
Quinn nodded vigorously. “That’s it!”
“Yeah,” Blake said sheepishly.
“Well, be careful, I guess. I’m willing to bet this is temporary until your powers…”
“Super powers,” Quinn corrected.
Mr. St. Germain laughed. “Is that what we’re calling them now?”
“If we figure out how to control them, then heck yes!” Quinn said.
“What about the sensing thing?” Blake asked.
“The what?” Mr. St. Germain asked, wrinkling his brow.
“Oh, right, we forgot that part,” Quinn said. He explained the strange sense of proximity they felt whenever they came into an unknown range of each other.
“Like, right now,” Blake said, “I know exactly where Quinn is.”
“But you can see him,” Mr. St. Germain said, confused.
“No, I can mentally sense where he physically is. If he were in the next classroom, I could tell you exactly where he’s standing or sitting. I could probably even guess which desk he was sitting at if I knew the layout of the classroom.”
“Echolocation?” Mr. St. Germain said, mostly to himself. “Can you sense everything around you?
“I don’t know what that is, but I can only sense Quinn in relation to me. I can’t sense anything or anyone else.”
Mr. St. Germain shrugged as his eyes darted around the ce
iling. Quinn could tell he was searching his comic-filled encyclopedic brain for an answer. “It’s just a guess but it might be because you got these powers together. I don’t have another explanation yet. You said you were holding onto each other in the cave?”
“Yeah, we were pretty scared,” Quinn said, nodding.
“I thought we were gonna be electrocuted and die,” Blake said.
“Well, we did die,” Quinn added. “At least, that’s what the hospital staff told us. That’s one of the only points no one disagreed with, so I assume it’s one of the few truths about what happened during those three days.”
“Blake, think about Darien.”
“No,” Blake said.
“Trust me. Think about the parking lot, when he insulted you and Quinn. Try to remember what that felt like.”
Blake frowned.
“Fine.” His voice betrayed his annoyance with the idea. “He’s just a relentless pain in the ass who needs to be put in his place. He bullies way too many people.”
“Think about your dad last night.”
Blake shook his head. “You’re really trying to rev me up, aren’t you?”
“Okay, stop,” Mr. St. Germain said, raising his hand. I can feel the heat coming off you. You weren’t kidding. Think happy thoughts, Blake; puppies and kittens.”
Blake chuckled.
“Like winning a race and beating Darien’s time,” Quinn said, elbowing his friend. Blake laughed, and Mr. St. Germain nodded.
“Good, you’re cooling down. So, irritation or frustration makes heat. The next time something unusual happens, you need reflect about what you were feeling—very distinctly—there could be subtle differences between emotions and you don’t want to confuse the two.”
“That still doesn’t explain how we can control the powers,” Quinn said.
“Well, that’s why you came to me, right?” Mr. St. Germain asked. “Based on what you shared, your emotions trigger new powers but are not the source of your powers. I’ll help you figure this out, and believe me, I won’t tell a soul as long as you two aren’t out there pretending to be Batman and Robin…”
“I’m not his sidekick,” Blake said dryly.
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