Mae shrugs with a self-conscious grin on her face.
“Oh yeah,” she says. “I remember that now. I don’t want to ruin a perfectly good pair of shoes.”
She kicks them off and stands back a few feet.
“Alright. I’m ready for some instruction. You’re the expert at flying, Fallout. Tell me what to do.”
I crumple up my bag of wrappings and get to my feet, mirroring her stance.
“You want to put your feet shoulder-width apart,” I say. “Hold out your arms at a bit of an angle from your sides and make sure your palms are facing down. You don’t want to go blasting yourself in the face on accident. I nearly threw myself on my back that way. We don’t need any neck injuries.”
Mae does what I say and she is practically vibrating with excitement and anticipation. I sure hope that something happens, otherwise she will be severely let down.
“Okay,” she says. “Now I just focus my energy, right?”
“That should be the key,” I reply. “Feel it in your chest and then will it down your hands and legs. Your feet will control how high you go. Your hands will keep you in balance.”
Mae nods.
I can tell from her expression that she’s concentrating hard, but her brow begins to furrow, which is a telltale sign that she’s becoming frustrated after a few minutes.
“Just relax,” I say. “Breathe and focus. It will happen.” I settle back down on the sand to observe.
“I am focusing,” she mutters, closing her eyes. Then she clenches her jaw and stretches her arms out.
“You might not be able to fly,” I say. “Maybe your powers will be different from mine -”
“Shut it and let me concentrate!”
I grin. I’m about to give her a little more encouragement when suddenly the sand around her feet ripples outwards like a fan is blowing it in all directions. Her knees lock into place and her feet slowly rise up off the beach.
A smile breaks out on my face, but I remain silent, waiting to see how far Mae will go on her own.
She rises up higher and higher, her elbows locked the same as her knees, and she struggles to keep her balance with the palms of her hands.
Her eyes slide open a bit and she looks down. Then they widen and she lets out a gasp.
“I’m doing it!” she says.
I chuckle.
“You are,” I say. “Can’t say I’m surprised. You’re the most determined person I know.”
Mae’s jaw continues to clench. Sweat breaks out on her forehead and a large gust of wind sweeps in from the water, pulling at her shoulders. Her arms flail out and she loses balance with one foot shooting out as if she’s standing on a wet floor with flat-soled shoes. With a cry she lands on the beach with an oomph, her feet flying over her head.
I can’t help but laugh as I get to my feet and walk over to her.
“Darn it!” she says, brushing the sand out of her hair. “I was so close to landing!”
“How do you think I felt when I had to land from up in the sky with you on my back?” I reply, reaching out a hand to help her up.
At first she doesn’t take it, but then I can see on her face that she notices how weak she’s become. Using super powers takes a lot of energy out of you. Suddenly you are using muscles that you never knew you had.
She grips my hand and I pull her to her feet.
“Not bad for a first try,” I say. “It took me a few days to even hover in the air without crashing.”
Mae grunts and brushes off the back of her shorts.
“I’m determined to get good at it,” she says. Then she gives me a side glance. “And I hope that I get more powers than that.”
“Being competitive?” I ask, reaching out a hand to give her a playful shove.
“Always,” she says. Then she looks up at the horizon to see that the sun is considerably lower than when we first set out. “It’s getting late,” she says.
I nod. It’s about time we pack it up. I’m grabbing all my trash from the sand when Mae taps me on the shoulder.
“Here,” she says, holding out the vial with the shard to me. “You can hold onto this.”
I stare at the vial for a moment, with the sunlight glinting off its clean glass surface, then shake my head.
“No,” I say. “That’s under your charge now. If you’re going to practice then you need to have it on you at all times.”
“I doubt I’ll get much practicing done in the middle of Boston,” she says as she flicks some of her hair out of her face. “But, I suppose I can hold onto it. I’m already starting to feel the pressure of it.”
“That’s good,” I say. “That means you’re taking it seriously.”
Mae scoffs.
“Of course I’m taking it seriously,” she says. “And you’ll see how serious I am when your grandfather trains us.”
I try to come up with a throwback, but settle for a simple, “Alright. You’re on, sidekick.”
“Partner!” Mae corrects me.
I grin mischievously out of the corner of my eye.
“We’ll see.”
5
Return To Civilization
I fly us back to the mainland sight unseen. The excitement of Mae trying to fly is replaced by exhaustion. My feet touch down on the concrete parking lot and Mae jumps down from her perch on my back.
“So, when do we get to visit your grandpa?” she asks.
I shrug.
“I’m not sure,” I say. “I haven’t really brought it up since he got out of the hospital.”
“But, he said he was going to train you, right?” Mae gives me an expectant look.
I nod. “I have to give him a call.”
“When? Tonight?” Mae gives me a hopeful look.
This makes me laugh. It’s like she’s asking me about a birthday present or something. She’s trying to pry information out of me, but I really haven’t planned that far ahead.
“Maybe!” I say. “I think he has weekends free. I mean, he’s retired, so it really doesn’t matter, I guess. But, weekends would work good for us, right?”
Mae nods. “Weekends sound fine. Saturdays, preferably.”
I reach up and scratch the back of my neck. “I suppose I could ask him what he thinks about talking to Marshall-Crichton at the same time.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Mae replies. “Your grandpa is good at advice. I’m sure he’ll tell you to go for it. Because you should. You already know what I think.” She gives me a smile.
The prodding is obvious. I hold up my hands.
“Alright. I’ll give him a call when I get home.”
We get into the car and Mae drives back to the store parking lot. This time we don’t talk, listening to the sound of the wind blowing into the open windows. I’m thankful for the peacefulness of the trip. I almost feel normal for a moment.
A few minutes later Mae pulls up next to my car.
“Thanks for the fun time,” she says. The dying red and purple sunlight plays against the side of her face as she turns to look at me.
“Always,” I reply and reach for the door handle. But, before I can get out of the car, Mae leans over and brushes her lips in a soft kiss against my cheek.
It takes me by surprise and I pull back a little. Mae doesn’t seem to notice. Instead she settles into her seat and waits for me to open my door and step out. I close the door behind me and she glances at me with that same mischievous look in her eye as earlier.
“See you next time at this place of dreams,” she says, nodding to the store in front of us. Then she shifts her car into gear and pulls away.
6
Advice
Later in the evening I run through what I’m going to ask Grandpa when I call.
First off, I need to know if it will be alright for Mae to come and get superhero training with me. Secondly I need Grandpa’s advice when it comes to talking to Marshall-Crichton about writing for Super Guy.
It’s a lot to get through,
but I feel somewhat prepared.
I lock myself in my room and get on the phone once I’m sure that Mom is not around to listen. My fingers tremble as I dial Grandpa’s number. There are three rings before Grandma answers.
“Hey, Grandma. It’s me.”
“Shaun?” she says. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise! How are you doing, sweetheart? Hanging in there with the summer job?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Just barely. Is Grandpa around?”
There’s some static as Grandma probably looks around, then she says, “He was just out tinkering with his truck again. Let me see if I can find him.”
She puts the phone down and I hear her calling Grandpa’s name. I move over to my bed and sit down on the edge, tapping my foot on one of the wooden legs for something to do before Grandpa picks up the phone.
“Hello?” he says.
“Hey, Grandpa.”
“I was wondering when you’d call,” Grandpa replies. I can hear the smile in his voice. “I think I already know what this is about.”
I let out a single laugh.
“Partially,” I say. “If you think I’m calling about my superhero training, then you’re right.”
“I thought so,” he says with a chuckle. “I guess I’ll have to be ready to teach you some wax-on and wax-off techniques.”
I shake my head.
“That reference is so old,” I tease, which gets a rise out of Grandpa.
“What do you expect from a veteran?”
I can always count on Grandpa to lift up a serious situation with a dose of humor. Even after nearly being killed by The Drone, Grandpa is still willing to train me with laughter. But, I feel like I’m going to hit him with a bombshell when I ask about Mae joining in.
There’s no way to ease into it, so I decide to just go for it.
“Since we’re using metaphors here,” I say, “what do you think about me bringing a sidekick along for my training?”
“A sidekick?” There’s some crunching of plastic as Grandpa tightens his grip on the phone. “You’re not talking about Mae, are you?”
“Yes…” I run my hand through my hair. “She pressured me into asking if she could come along and learn a few things.”
“Something tells me that even if I say no, she will still be coming along.” Grandpa is silent for a moment as the idea sinks in. “What sort of things will she be learning? If you’re the only one with the Vestige?”
“That’s the thing,” I say. “I have the main body of the Vestige, but I let Mae try out the shard that you had hidden in your wall. I didn’t think she would be able to do anything, but she managed to levitate for a few seconds.”
Grandpa must be shaking his head.
“Two Aberrants.” He sighs. “You two aren’t making it easy for this old timer. I trust she’s going to be confidential?”
“Absolutely,” I answer. There’s no question that I can trust Mae with my life - and so can the rest of my family. “If there’s one person that I would want to have superpowers besides me, it’s Mae.”
“Fine then,” says Grandpa. “You can bring her along. But, we haven’t figured out a date yet. I’m assuming that it will need to be scheduled around your summer job.”
A perfect lead-in to my second question, I think.
“Funny you should mention the summer job,” I say, “because that’s the other thing I wanted to pick your brain about.”
“Oh?” says Grandpa. “Is it going well?”
I roll my eyes.
“As well as a retail job can go.” I let out a deep sigh. “I’m just not feeling it. It’s like I’m wasting all my abilities just moving items from a stock room onto a store shelf.”
“Nobody gets an executive job on their first try,” says Grandpa. “I used to be a grunt when I was younger. My job was to tape boxes together for mailing things. You want to talk about boring: I had a lot of time to think while I did that job. Sure, it was mundane, but I was providing for my family. You may not have a family of your own, but your father would want you to work hard to establish yourself the same way he did, and not rely on his fortune.”
“Yes, and Dad was a writer,” I say. “Which is something I think I can do. Or, at least Dad’s publishing house thinks I can do it.”
“Marshall-Crichton?” says Grandpa. “They reached out to you?”
“A while ago,” I explain. “Mr. Crichton said that if I ever wanted to pitch an idea to them, he would be more than willing to hear it personally. Do you think I could get a job writing for him instead of working at retail?”
Grandpa’s answer is exactly what I expect from him.
“You never know if you don’t try. What do you have to lose?”
“Nothing, I suppose.” I continue bouncing my foot against the bedpost. “All those awesome skills, like how many toothbrushes go on one hook. But, what should I pitch to them? He said he wants something exclusive to the Boding name - and, no, I don’t want to write any memoirs!”
Grandpa goes silent for a moment as if he’s debating about bringing something up. I let the silence linger for a moment, and then Grandpa pushes ahead.
“It’s not a memoir, but, let me ask how far you’ve gotten in your father’s journal?”
I blink a few times. Grandpa is referring to the journal that he and my grandmother found in a box of my father’s paperwork. The journal is addressed specifically to me, and it’s for my eyes only. My grandparents didn’t read past the first page, out of respect for my father’s wishes. This means that the only way Grandpa will find out what is in the journal is if I read it and tell him.
He might be prodding me for that information. Or he might be trying to get me to figure out something on my own without bashing me over the head.
“Not extremely far,” I reply, honestly. “I’m barely halfway through the book.”
“It’s not exactly light reading, is it?” asks Grandpa with a hint of amusement in his voice.
“It’s not like reading a novel,” I say. “Or a traditional journal. He did a lot of illustrations, which is interesting. But, the subject matter is really heavy…”
Grandpa lets out a grunt.
“It’s about his high school days, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. How can you tell?”
“A boy’s high school days can be very joyful or very sorrowful,” Grandpa replies. “Your father’s were a bit of both. He lost a friend, and that’s not easy to cope with, especially when that friend hasn’t died. Bill is just out of the picture somewhere as if their friendship never existed.”
I lay back onto my bed and rest my head on the feather pillow.
“Dad writes so vividly,” I say. “It’s like he’s sitting in the room with me, telling me everything that happened.”
“That’s the mark of a great writer,” Grandpa says. “That journal is like a time capsule. Have you thought about maybe using it when you go and talk to the publishing house?”
I adjust my hand on the phone and reply, “What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s an obvious bargaining chip,” Grandpa explains. “You need to have something exclusive when it comes to pitching ideas. If you have something that is exclusive to you, then the big wigs can’t go behind your back and hire someone cheaper to write the story for them.” He pauses, and I can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks again. “Not that you’re going to be the top dog on their list, but at least you have the Boding name to hold onto. And you’re not going in cold if Mr. Crichton asked for you to come to him when you have something.”
I mull over Grandpa’s idea for a few moments. He does make a lot of sense. Even if the journal is incredibly sensitive, nobody is saying that I have to hand over the complete contents to Marshall-Crichton. I just have to let them know that I have it and that they won’t get its contents anywhere else. I have the story behind Super Guy, and it’s these behind the scenes bits that should shape the finale of the Aberrant series.
“I think you’re onto som
ething, Grandpa,” I say.
“I usually am,” he replies. “You take some time to think about it. Come up with a good pitch for them. Show them that you’re ready to work, and then the ball will be in their court. I’m willing to bet they’ll play ball on this one.”
My mind is racing now with ideas. I’m trying to keep them fresh in my mind until I can jot them all down when Grandpa brings up my request for training.
“Now, when are you and Mae both free for training? It will have to be a full day since you’re going to be traveling north.”
“I was hoping that Saturday would work,” I reply. “That gives you some time to prepare before we get there.”
There’s a long pause while Grandpa mulls everything over.
“Saturday sounds fine,” he says at last and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Thank-you, Grandpa,” I say.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he says. “We still need to sort out everything with Mae. You say she can levitate, but something tells me that there are more powers within her that even she doesn’t know about yet. Make sure she’s careful until Saturday.”
“Alright,” I say. “I’ll make sure.” I pause, then add, “I’m pretty excited now.”
“I’m sure you are,” says Grandpa. “Let me know if I need to pick you up at the train, or if you’re going to drive up. Your grandmother will make cookies. Until then, give your father’s journal another shot.”
We say our goodbyes and I hang up the phone.
As I get to my feet and go to put the phone on the desk, Dad’s journal catches my eye. The lamplight plays against the battered cover. It looks ancient compared to all the technology splayed across my desktop.
I pause by the desk for a moment, close my eyes and take a breath, then grab the journal off the desk.
7
The Forums
Taking Grandpa’s advice, I prepare to do some research for my proposal. It’s still early in the evening, just after dinner time, so I head down to the kitchen and make myself some Ramen. Mom is busy working on her laptop at the kitchen table, so I don’t bother her too much.
The Aberrant Series (Book 2): Super Vision Page 3