Queeroes

by Steven Bereznai

  “Psych out the competition,” Troy added.

  “Sniff down potential husbands,” Chad concluded.

  Gibbie sighed. “I was thinking make the world a better place.”

  “Oh,” said Troy, Chad and Mandy, looking abashed. “Of course…right…yeah.”

  Mandy put her hand up.

  “Hey, is there one of your dork superheroes with a crazy powerful scream?”

  “Uhm…yeah…a couple. They’re not the most popular characters, so I don’t think I have any on my laptop, but I’m sure I could download some images.”

  Troy gave Gibbie the “you’re a retard” look, then turned to Mandy.

  “What’s got you so scared?”

  “FYI and PS, I’m not scared,” she sneered.

  Troy pointed both his thumbs at himself. “Empath.” He pointed two fingers at her. “Scared.”

  “Well, you’d be scared too if you’d been right in front of Liza when she took out the mall, by yelling,” Mandy snapped defensively.

  “So Liza’s one of us too,” Gibbie said.

  “If she’s a supervillain, does that mean we get to go kick her ass?” Mandy asked excitedly.

  “Mandy,” Chad interjected, “maybe it was an accident. None of us knew what we could do, and it’s not like we can really control it even now.”

  She slouched in her chair.

  “Fine.”

  “It’s kind of weird, don’t you think?” Troy said. They all looked at him. “I mean, Liza barely even talks, and now she’s got this killer voice? And Gibbie, no offense, but you’re not exactly The Hulk. Now you’re stronger than Schwarzenegger on radioactive ’roids.”

  “And Mandy,” Gibbie continued, “the girl who likes to be seen…”

  “…and touched,” Chad added.

  “…can now turn invisible and has a force field,” Gibbie concluded.

  “And then there’s Chad,” Mandy snapped, “the guy who shaves his ass…”

  “…and balls,” Chad chimed in.

  “Is wolf boy,” Mandy concluded.

  “I feel more like a cat, actually,” Chad purred. “So what about Troy?”

  “You mean the guy with the emotional range of a rock?” Mandy asked. “Now he senses other people’s feelings.”

  “Maybe the isotope latches onto some sort of repressed part of the brain,” Gibbie speculated.

  The bell rang and they all looked to Gibbie.

  “Now what?” Mandy asked.

  “I…uh…,” he stammered.

  He hadn’t thought much past his PowerPoint presentation.

  “We meet again,” Troy interjected. “Tonight.”

  “Right!” Gibbie nodded. “After school!”

  “After wrestling and cheerleading practice,” Troy corrected.

  “Some of us have lives,” Mandy pointed out.

  “And somebody needs to talk with Liza,” Troy added.

  “I’ll do it,” Mandy offered.

  Troy looked at her suspiciously, but he felt nothing malicious coming from her. In fact, there was a tinge of guilt.

  “Okay,” he said.

  It was not the best decision he would ever make.

  “So,” Troy said to Mandy as he picked up his bag, “do you need a ride later tonight?”

  “Well,” she replied, “as the super bitch of the group, I wouldn’t want to put you out. Besides, unlike some people, I actually have a car. But thanks for offering to pick me up in your mom’s minivan. Very fetch.”

  Don’t let her raz you, Troy told himself. That’s why you snapped earlier.

  “I guess I had that coming,” he conceded.

  She looked surprised by that, but sloughed it off.

  “Whatever,” she replied, and then said to Chad, “I’ve got to go to the ladies’ room.”

  “No prob, I’ll wait,” Chad replied.

  She pushed her way past Troy.

  He was about to follow her out when Chad grabbed him by the arm.

  “What’re you doing?” Chad demanded.

  “Going to the weight room,” Troy replied, his expression frustratingly neutral.

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “Mandy,” Chad cut in. “She dumped you and now you’re offering her a ride?”

  “So?”

  “So, you’re not getting back together with her.”

  “That’s not really your business.”

  “It became my business last night,” Chad said meaningfully. For just a moment, Troy felt the rush of desire wash off the shorter boy, and it was reciprocated, just like when they’d been in bed together. But on the surface…

  “You leave Mandy alone,” Chad said, holding up a claw menacingly. “Got it?”

  “Chill,” Troy capitulated. Chad was only two breaths away. It would be so easy to stroke his chest, to lean in close, to press their lips together. Troy took a sudden step back, holding his hands up in peace. “I got it.”

  Chapter 10

  Devon Dedarling walked with unusual briskness down the halls of Nuffim High, careful not to touch anything. His hands had already accidentally trashed his textbook, a pencil, and the water fountain. The janitor stared at the mutilated porcelain in confusion. But despite the mishaps, Devon was slowly losing his fear of his fingers getting permanently caught in something. Already it was getting easier to slip his hands in and out of things. And every time, his excitement grew.

  Nor did he dwell much on how this had happened. He knew it had to be the contaminated water he’d drunk. He’d read enough comic books before his parents divorced—back when he still had interests—to realize superpowers developed from freakish environmental exposures.

  He also knew the next step was always to figure out the extent of his abilities; but first, he had to pee. He stopped in front of the boys’ restroom, but did not go in. Something about the girls’ washroom door had caught his attention. It was shaking, he realized. A screw popped loose from the handle and rattled across the floor, stopping against the soles of his black Dockers.

  He pushed the door open a crack, and caught sight of Lezzie

  Liza serenading herself in the girls’ washroom. She leaned on a radiator, eyes closed. A look of bliss filled her face as she sang “I’m Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman.” The entire room vibrated like a tuning fork. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

  The song eased downwards, as did the room’s reverberations. Liza opened her eyes and, as soon as she saw him, clamped her mouth shut. All lay still.

  “Your voice,” he said, “it’s different, isn’t it?”

  Liza bit her lip and slowly nodded.

  I’m not alone. The realization made the inside of Devon’s chest swell with relief. Normally he’d berate himself for such a weakness, but the truth was, he’d been denying how freaky all this really was. He’d long thought of Liza as something of a kindred spirit. Like himself, she was not willing to walk the high-school walk, nor talk the in-crowd talk.

  He held up his hands and smiled.

  “I’m different too.”

  In the driveway of the Allstar residence, Mandy slammed the door of her car. Chad got out the other side. Troy stood on the porch. Baskets of flowers were hanging all around him.

  “Where’s Liza?” he asked.

  “I looked for her, I couldn’t find her. I’m sorry,” Mandy said. “She must have ducked out of school early.”

  “It’s okay, babe,” Chad said, rubbing her shoulders. “We’ll find her on Monday. What could happen in one weekend?”

  “You have got to see what I did to my computer last night!” Devon

  told Liza excitedly, opening the door to his bedroom.

  He stopped within the white walls, staring at his white desk.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “It’s gone,” he said, rushing forward.

  He heard the front door opening.

  “Mom?!” he shouted.

&n
bsp; Her heels clippity-clapped up the stairs.

  “Darling, Mommy’s home early!” she chimed, stopping in his doorway. “And look, you’ve brought a little friend!”

  “Where is it?” Devon demanded.

  “Where’s what?” his mom replied with a look that was far too vacant to be genuine. “Oh, your art piece! Devon, my love, I have the most wonderful news! I sold it!”

  “You what?”

  “To one of my best overseas clients. I couldn’t resist sending a JPEG, just to brag about my son the artist,” she gushed. “And Mr. Ganoush Ganosh—Ed to me, of course—well, he absolutely had to have it. I suppose I should’ve asked…” She said it in a tone that implied how ridiculous that would have been. “My darling”—she pinched his cheek—“he paid a mint!”

  “Get it back,” he seethed.

  “Impossible!” she chuckled. “FedEx is good, but they’re not that good. Oh, Devon, I know this is hard for a young artist, but you mustn’t grow too attached to your work.”

  “You goddamn pimp!” Devon screamed.

  “Language, young man. We have a guest.” She blushed, looking at Liza apologetically. “And I am not whoring out my son’s talent. I’ve waived my usual agent’s fee, and you, my little Michelangelo, now have a very handsome sum in a joint bank account. And as a little bonus to get you started on your next project…” She pulled out her wallet and began counting out five hundred dollars.

  He stared at the bills she placed in his hand. And then he lost it.

  “I don’t want your stupid money. I want my computer back!”

  He pushed the cash towards her, intending only to shove it away from himself, yet he did so much more. His hands and the bills landed on her exposed cleavage, and sank within.

  He yanked his arm back in surprise. The bills stayed stuck to his mom, melded with her breast, as if she, like his computer, were clay under his touch.

  “What have you done?” she gaped in horror, trying to pull them off, to no avail. Veins ran into and out of them. She ripped part of a bill in half. Blood slowly trickled from the torn ends.

  She screamed. It was a howl Devon had never thought he’d hear coming from this perpetually chattering woman. It terrified him even more than when his fingers had been stuck in his laptop. Somehow he’d always seen his mother as both invulnerable and unflappable.

  He reached towards her, trying to help, even if he didn’t quite know how.

  “Get away from me!” she shouted, smacking his hand and backing away.

  “Mom, listen,” he said.

  “Your computer,” she said. “This is how you did it?”

  She pulled out a handkerchief, dabbing at the bleeding bill in her breast.

  “I have to get to a hospital,” she sobbed.

  “Wait!” Devon begged.

  He grabbed at her jacket and she shoved him back onto his bed. He lay there, panting. Her eyes were wide with fear now. She turned and ran.

  “I’ll drive you there!” he shouted, clomping down the stairs in her wake.

  “I’m not getting into a car with you!” she shouted back.

  He knocked his way past her and blocked the door. Her handkerchief was now soaked with blood. She picked up the phone in the hallway and dialed 9-1-1. He jumped forward and grabbed the body of the phone. It turned into a mush of plastic, seeping through the sides of his fingers. She yanked the phone cord from the wall and quickly wound it around his wrists, all the while eyeing his fingers like they were ten bobbing cobras. He pulled himself away from her, his shoulder slamming into the wall, his feet slipping on the carpet. He fell sideways and smashed his head against a cabinet, dropping to the ground.

  He blinked to clear his hazy vision. His mom remained a blur of red.

  “I’ll be back,” she vowed yanking the door open, “with the police.”

  “I can…,” he mumbled in a daze, “I can fix this.”

  “I believed in you,” she said, “and I was wrong.”

  She turned to go. The setting sun blazed behind her through the open door. Her shadow caressed her fallen child. A looming figure stepped behind her.

  “Liza?” Devon gurgled, his eyes narrowing to bring her into focus.

  Mrs. Dedarling turned rapidly. Her heel snapped. She teetered, her ankle wavering as it tried to stabilize her bulk. Liza raised a black skillet.

  Mrs. Dedarling dropped her purse, trying to shield herself with an arm.

  “Help!” she shouted.

  Her voice fell on the deaf trees of her huge estate. The skillet smashed into the side of her face. Devon watched his mother fall next to him. Her pearl earring smacked and cracked against the marble floor. He shook as he struggled to his feet. Liza’s meaty grip helped him up and held him close. Devon wasn’t used to being touched, but he was too shaky to pull away.

  They both looked down at his mom’s unconscious body. A huge bruise was forming on the side of her face. The hundred-dollar bills were still merged with her skin. The bleeding had stopped, clotting over the torn paper.

  “I…I didn’t know what else to do,” Liza said, her voice trembling.

  “Now what?”

  Devon heard Liza, but underneath he also replayed his mother’s words: I believed in you, and I was wrong. The echo sent numbness down his spine.

  “Now,” he said, gazing back at his mother, “now we make art.”

  Chapter 11

  Devon and Liza stared at Mrs. Dedarling’s solid wood dining room table. Mrs. Dedarling seemed to lie peacefully atop the antique import that stretched from one end of the room to the other. A chandelier was ablaze with light. All around her were place settings—her very best china and glassware.

  “Sing,” Devon whispered.

  Liza obeyed, her voice a tinge harsh, yet beautiful all the same.

  The table vibrated. The silverware rattled in a convulsive dance. A wine glass cracked. Mrs. Dedarling’s eyes popped open. She tried to move, but her entire back was now a part of the table, as was the side of her face, hiding the growing bruise where Liza had smashed her with the skillet.

  Devon’s face loomed in front of his mom’s one visible eye.

  “What have you done to me?” she demanded. The words came out slurred; a quarter of her mouth was melded with the table.

  He peered at her through a jeweler’s loupe, the kind used to appraise precious stones. He gazed closely at the points where her body and the table became one. There were blue veins in the wood, and lines of tree grain in her skin.

  His tone was flat as he spoke.

  “I wonder how much your overseas clients would pay for this piece.”

  Troy, Gibbie, Mandy, and Chad gathered on the floor of Gibbie’s room. Mandy looked around at his collection of Battlestar Galactica posters.

  “It’s exactly as I imagined,” she said.

  Chad lay on Gibbie’s bed reading Cosmo, and Troy was pretty sure his little brother was about to pee himself with excitement. Troy didn’t dare look at the hunky cheerleader.

  Mandy was idly going through Gibbie’s bookshelf.

  “Not a Gossip Girl fan, I see.” And yet her snide tone died down as she pulled out Star Trek: The Next Generation Technical Manual.

  “Do not bend the corners,” Gibbie warned.

  “The Enterprise has force fields, doesn’t it?” Mandy asked.

  Gibbie nodded. “And the Romulans have cloaking technology.”

  “What?” she said as Chad gave her an amused look. “Geek can be chic.”

  Troy handed Gibbie a back issue of Muscle Men: The Magazine for Serious Pumpers, and told him, “Check out the article on weightlifting and the central nervous system.” Gibbie gave the book Cats for Dummies to Chad, and Chad handed his Cosmo to Troy.

  “How to Drive Your Man Wild in Bed.” Troy read the title of the article Chad had been reading.

  “You might learn something,” Mandy teased.

  Troy blushed. So did Mandy. So did Chad. Gibbie made a mental note to skim the article
when no one else was around.

  “Flip ahead,” Chad said. “There’s a quiz on emotional intelligence. Maybe that will help with your whole empathy thing.”

  And so they began to figure out what they could do. An hour later, Gibbie lay on his brother’s bench press in the basement. The bar above him was stacked with weights. Gibbie grunted, trying

  to push it up. It wouldn’t move.

  Chad and Mandy sat on the basement stairs.

  “You know, he is pretty hot,” Mandy said.

  “Gibbie?” Chad sputtered.

  “Please.” She was appraising Troy.

  The older Allstar brother wore a sleeveless shirt and shorts that showed off his quads and calves.

  “I thought you were over him,” Chad replied, a worried furrow on his brow.

  “Totally,” she said with a grossed-out look on her face.

  Chad recognized this as stage one of a Mandy crush.

  “Still,” Mandy mused, “it is kind of sweet the way he’s trying to help his brother, and he’s all take charge and stuff.”

  Step two.

  “Uh-huh,” Chad agreed unenthusiastically. “And stuff.”

  “You have to concentrate,” Troy ordered his little brother.

  “I am concentrating,” Gibbie whined, twisting his body this way and that, as if he just needed to adjust his angle to get the weight up.

  “Not the way you need to,” Troy insisted. “You’re all in your head. I can feel it. You have to move outside your brain, and into your body. Remember what that article said? Visualize your consciousness in your chest, and squeeze. Stop flexing your temples and start flexing your muscles. Engage your whole nervous system, not just your brain. Come on, man. You can do this.”

  Gibbie gripped the bar once more, pushing hard.

  “Chest, shoulders, triceps,” Troy chanted, “chest, shoulders, triceps…”

  Gibbie let go a fearsome grunt, and the bar lifted upward. He began pressing it easily, cranking out twenty reps without even breaking a sweat.

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Troy shouted.

  Chad and Mandy found that their powers were activated differently from Gibbie’s. Chad made his claws grow. Under his command they receded. He made his eyes turn cat-like, then baby blue.