The Superhero's Son (Book 1): The Superhero's Test

by Lucas Flint

  I raised an eyebrow. “A kid? We're probably the same age.”

  “Shut up,” Robert growled. “I know what I said.”

  I didn't think he did, but I decided not to say anything that could escalate the situation, although that was hard because my temper was starting to rise. Mom always told me that I should control my temper, but it was always hard to do whenever I was talking with a bully like Robert.

  Still, I managed to say, in a calm voice, “What will happen if I say no?”

  “Then I'll just beat you up and take your lunch,” said Robert. “Every day for the next week, I'll give you a progressively worse beating and then take your lunch.”

  “What the hell?” I said. I stopped myself quickly, taking a few deep breaths to control my temper, and then said more calmly, “What? That's not a fair choice. Either way, you get my lunch every day for the next week.”

  Robert smiled, a psychotic smile that I wanted to wipe off his face. “And? Why should I care? You're the new kid around here. That means you don't get a choice about what we choose to put you through.”

  My hands balled into fists, but I shoved them into my hoodie. But that did nothing to cool the anger boiling within me.

  I looked at Malcolm and Tara. “Guys, is he for real? Tell me this is some kind of elaborate prank.”

  Unfortunately, Malcolm and Tara seemed to be trying to turn invisible, because Malcolm was looking at his food as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, while Tara had brought her smartphone even closer to her face. I would have considered this a betrayal, but neither of them were really my friends, so maybe I should have seen that coming.

  Regardless, I looked at Robert again, who was still smirking at me. He put his hands on his hips and said, “All right, new kid, what will it be? Give up your lunch for a week or receive a beating from me and still lose your lunch for a week?”

  My hands shook. I was starting to fantasize about knocking Robert out in one blow, but I kept myself from doing something I'd regret.

  But neither was I going to stand here and take it. So I said, “Sorry, Robert, but looks like you're going to have to get your own lunch this—”

  I didn't even see it coming. Robert's fist smashed into my abdomen, knocking the air out of me. I gasped in pain and fell down onto my seat at the table, causing Malcolm and even Tara to look at me in surprise.

  Wrapping my hands over my stomach, I looked up at Robert, who was now holding his fist up like he was going to mash my head in.

  “You just had to make things difficult, didn't you, new kid?” said Robert. He snorted. “Oh, well. It's been a while since I've gotten to beat a new kid. Most new kids don't have the balls to say no to me.”

  Damn, Robert hit hard. He really was as strong as he looked. Yet I didn't let the pain make me cower. Instead, it made me angrier than ever. My anger rose within me like a geyser and I was just about ready to blow.

  Robert swung another fist at me, this time aiming for my head, but I caught his fist with my hand. I expected it to be hard to hold back, but to my surprise, I held back Robert's fist with ease.

  “What?” said Robert. He sounded genuinely shocked, like he was incapable of understanding what was happening. “How did you do that?”

  I wasn't sure how, because I had never done that before. But I didn't question it. I just stood up, forcing Robert's fist back as I did so. Anger continued to flow through my veins and I wasn't going to be calm anymore.

  Robert seemed to get over his shock, because he pulled back his other fist and threw it at me. But I dodged it easily and responded with a punch of my own, aiming for his chest, which was unprotected and a big target.

  When my fist collided with Robert's chest, Robert literally went flying. He flew backwards through the air, across the entire length of the cafeteria, screaming loudly and drawing the attention of everyone in the cafeteria. Hundreds of pairs of eyes followed Robert as he flew, until he smashed straight through the cafeteria wall and stopped screaming.

  I stood there, blinking in disbelief. I looked down at my own fist, which looked no worse the wear for having punched a big guy like Robert all the way across the cafeteria. The only thing I noticed was how strong I felt, but I was too shocked to pay attention even to that.

  Then I looked at Malcolm and Tara. Malcolm was staring at me like I had grown a set of wings and flew away, while Tara had actually dropped her smartphone onto the table and stared at me with the same shock as Malcolm.

  That was when I felt people looking at me and looked back at the rest of the cafeteria. Everyone in the cafeteria was looking directly at me, wearing expressions as the ones Malcolm and Tara wore. I probably looked the same, but I didn't have a mirror so I couldn't see my face.

  All I knew was that I had done something I had possibly just murdered another kid … and I hadn't even known I could do it.

  Chapter Two

  Why wasn't anyone talking? I hated it when things got silent like this. Everyone was staring at me. Everyone was looking at me like I was some kind of freak. Even the lunch lady behind the cafeteria counter was staring at me soundlessly, holding a spoon full of grub halfway in the air. The only sound was the sound of bits of plaster and plywood falling onto the floor from the Robert Candle-shaped hole in the wall on the other side of the room.

  Feeling hot around the collar, I looked at Malcolm and Tara. They seemed to have completely lost the ability to talk. I thought that their brains probably hadn't caught up with the reality of what they just saw yet.

  Then, all of a sudden, Robert groaned from behind the hole in the wall. Like a spell, the entire classroom suddenly burst into loud screaming and shouting. The other kids started pointed and shouting at me, like I was some kind of monster, while a couple of teachers ran into the cafeteria. It was Mr. Randal, the English teacher, and Miss Norman, the History teacher, who were now trying to figure out what happened, but there was too much screaming and shouting for them to make sense of what happened.

  Again, I looked back at Malcolm and Tara. I said, raising my voice to be heard over the screams echoing in the cafeteria, “I don't know what happened! You have to believe me!”

  But Malcolm and Tara were now looking at me with the same fear that the other kids had. Tara was even scooting away from me on the bench, while Malcolm looked like he was trying to figure out if he should run or try to confront me. Although neither of them were really my friends, I still felt awful about frightening them with powers I didn't even know I had.

  Then I heard a loud voice shout, “Kevin Jason!” and I looked and saw a large, balding middle-aged man in a suit walking up to me. I recognized him as Principal Thomas, the principal of John Smith High School, who I hadn't actually met until today. I wasn't sure where he came from, but it didn't matter because he was clearly pissed.

  “What is the meaning of this?” said Principal Thomas as he approached me. “I heard you punched a student through the walls. Explain yourself!”

  I didn't know what to say. I held up my hands to show that I didn't mean any harm, but Principal Thomas just stepped backwards like he was afraid that I would punch him, too.

  “I-I-I'm not sure,” I said, stuttering more than I had ever stuttered in my life. “I—”

  “I want no excuses,” Principal Thomas interrupted me. He poked me in the chest with one meaty finger. “I am going to tell the police and your parents about this and will get to the bottom of this nonsense no matter what. I will not be having students in my school punching each other through the walls with powers they have not previously disclosed. Do you understand me, young man?”

  My temper flared again, because Principal Thomas was acting like I had intentionally hidden these powers from everyone, even though I was just as surprised by my super strength as anyone. I was almost tempted to punch him out, but I restrained my anger, though just barely.

  “He understands you perfectly, Principal Thomas,” said a slightly muffled, calm voice that seemed strangely familiar
to me, but which I was too upset to place. “He just doesn't know his own strength is all.”

  I looked over to the corner of the cafeteria, where the voice had come from, and was surprised to see someone standing there. He was a tall man, about as tall as me, and wore a white lab coat and a strange-looking helmet with a visor that completely covered his face. He wore metal gauntlets that had touch screen displays and tons of buttons on them that I didn't understand at all. He was not the kind of person you'd expect to see in a small town Texas high school cafeteria, to say the least.

  The man's appearance must have been noticed by everyone, because all of the screaming and shouting and crying in the cafeteria suddenly went silent. I looked back at the other students and faculty and saw that everyone was now staring at the newcomer, though with more confusion than fear.

  Only Principal Thomas seemed to get over his confusion long enough to sputter, “Wh-Who are you?”

  “Someone who is technically supposed to be in retirement,” said the masked man as he walked up to my table, seemingly not bothered by all of the shocked and confused looks from everyone else.

  “How did you get into the school without my knowledge?” said Principal Thomas. “I don't remember being told that we were having a guest today.”

  “That's because you have incredibly poor security,” said the masked man as he stopped next to me, again ignoring all the stares from everyone else. “If John Smith High School hadn't had such an excellence academic reputation, I'd rethink sending my son here.”

  “Huh?” said Principal Thomas. He genuinely seemed at a loss for words, like he wasn't sure whether to take the masked man's words as a compliment or an insult.

  But there was something about the masked man's way of speaking that seemed familiar to me. I looked at him, but his mask and costume covered his body from head to toe, making it impossible for me to identify him. All I could tell was that he was obviously a neohero of some kind, but I just wasn't sure who.

  Then Malcolm gasped and said, “Oh my gosh! You're Genius, right?”

  The masked man looked at Malcolm, but he seemed more impressed than annoyed. “You recognize me?”

  “Yeah!” said Malcolm. “I'm a big neohero fan and I know about almost every neohero in the world. You're one of the Four Founders of the Neohero Alliance, after all.”

  I vaguely recalled hearing about a neohero named Genius once, but I had never met him and didn't know much about him except that he was one of the first neoheroes. But I remembered hearing that he retired from crime-fighting, although no one knew what he was doing now due to keeping his secret identity, well, a secret.

  “Well, that is quite flattering,” said Genius. “But I am afraid I am going to have to erase this little meeting of ours from your memory. This is not a good way for a new neohero to debut to the world.”

  “What—” I said, before Genius pulled out a pair of dark shades and slammed them over my eyes, almost pushing me over because he hit me so hard.

  Then, before anyone else could say anything, Genius raised one of his gauntlets, pressed a button on it, and a huge, blinding white flash exploded from the gauntlet. It covered the entire room, totally enveloping everyone before anyone could react. I now understood why Genius had slammed these shades on my eyes; they protected my vision, but now I was worried that everyone else would be struck blind by the explosion.

  When the light faded, everyone was still staring at us, but now they looked completely dumbfounded. Their stares were blank. They almost looked like zombies. I half-expected Principal Thomas to raise his hands and start going around saying, “Brains! Brains!”

  Genius lowered his gauntlet and said to the room, “You did not see Kevin Jason punch Robert Candle through the wall of the cafeteria. Instead, Robert had brought a homemade air bomb with him that accidentally exploded and sent him flying through the cafeteria wall. Kevin had nothing to do with it.”

  I was no Einstein, but even I could see through that blatant lie. It wasn't even a very good lie; I mean, there weren't any remains of the air bomb, after all.

  But I guess I must have been the smartest person in the school, because the students, faculty, and Principal Thomas all nodded in agreement. Principal Thomas even repeated Genius's warning word by word, as if he was practicing it.

  “All right,” said Genius. He paused, and then added, “Oh, and Kevin Jason suffered from food poisoning due to your bad cafeteria food and had to go home early. He will be back in school tomorrow, so you do not need to follow up on him or call either of his parents about his whereabouts.”

  “Of course,” said Principal Thomas, who sounded very absentminded. “Yes, yes, I understand. Our food really is terrible, but it's because our funding keeps getting slashed and we have to buy low quality food.”

  “I don't care,” said Genius. He grabbed my arm suddenly and said, “All right, Kevin, let's go.”

  Before I could ask where we were going, Genius turned a dial on his utility belt and the cafeteria vanished around me in an instant.

  A second later, I found myself standing in the living room of our new house. I recognized it because there were a few boxes containing some of our unpacked belongings in one corner, in addition to the distinctive red carpet that looked old but which my Dad insisted was cool. A picture of my family—me, my Dad, and my Mom—stood on the fireplace mantle, although it was the only family picture out because we were still searching for the others, which had somehow gotten lost in the move.

  But that didn't matter, because I had just been kidnapped by a legendary superhero who was supposed to be in retirement. I looked to my right and saw Genius standing there, still holding my arm, which I yanked out of his hand as soon as my senses returned to me.

  “What the hell was that about?” I said, removing the shades from my eyes. I looked around the living room. “Is this really my house? Because if you kidnapped me, you did a bad job of it.”

  Genius looked like he was about to talk, but then I heard some movement from the kitchen and in the next instant Mom stood in the doorway in her apron, her red hair tied back behind her head and her green eyes wide in surprise. She held a long spoon in her hand, which she seemed to have been washing before coming in here, based on the way it dripped.

  “Kevin?” said Mom in surprise. “What are you doing home from school so early?”

  “Um—” I said, but it was Genius who spoke.

  “He punched a bully through the wall of the cafeteria and I got him out before he landed in real big trouble,” said Genius, his tone as calm as if this sort of thing happened every day.

  “What?” said Mom. She looked at Genius and frowned. “What are you doing in that suit?”

  Mom's tone was strange. It wasn't disapproving, exactly, but it wasn't exactly thrilled, either. It sounded almost like she already knew the answer to the question, but was asking it anyway because it was part of their routine.

  “Because if I didn't, then everyone would know my secret identity,” said Genius. “Besides, I can't use most of my gadgets without the suit.”

  “I thought you had put the suit away,” said Mom. “I thought you were done with superhero stuff.”

  “Yes, but I had to step in just this once because if I hadn't, our son would have gotten into more trouble than teenage boys usually get into,” said Genius.

  I blinked. “Wait. Our son? You're not my Dad. I don't even know who you are.” I looked at Mom in horror. “Did you cheat on Dad with Genius?”

  “No, no, no,” said Genius, shaking his head quickly. “I understand you're confused, so let me show you my real identity.”

  Genius put his hands on his helmet and lifted his helmet off of his head. Once it was off, I could now see Genius's face. I was shocked by what I saw.

  The man standing in the Genius costume had the same brown hair and blue eyes that I did. We were almost identical in appearance, except he looked older and had streaks of gray through his hair. His eyes were more piercing than mine
, too, a familiar look I had grown up experiencing, like he was constantly analyzing my every move and emotion.

  “Dad?” I said in pure shock. “Is that you?”

  Dad nodded, although he didn't smile. “Yes. And I have a lot of explaining to do, so let's sit down on the couch and have a talk we should have had a long time ago.”

  Chapter Three

  Sitting down on the couch with Dad was a pretty normal thing most of the time. Usually, I'd be watching sports or something else on TV, while he'd be reading a book or one of his favorite news sites on his tablet. We never talked much, but it always felt normal to me.

  But when I sat down with Dad on the couch now and put my shades on my lap, it felt strange. Dad was still in his Genius costume, which I was trying to tell myself was some kind of Halloween costume and that this was all some kind of strange prank or maybe even performance art before I remembered that Dad was a total introvert and hated doing anything that would draw attention to himself if he could avoid it.

  Dad, however, didn't seem uncomfortable about this. He just sat down on the right end of the couch, where he usually sat, with his Genius helmet in his lap. I half-expected him to pull out his tablet or grab a book and start reading, but he just folded his hands over his helmet and looked at me like we were about to have a normal father-son conversation.

  Mom wasn't with us. She had gone back into the kitchen to 'wash dishes,' but I knew my Mom well enough to know that she was just using that as an excuse to get away from Dad. My parents loved each other, but it was clear to me that Dad had crossed some sort of line and Mom was using washing the dishes as an excuse to avoid getting into a fight with him about it.

  “All right, Kevin,” said Dad. “I know this is very abrupt, but I intended to tell you about my identity as Genius at some point.”

  The shock in my brain seemed to have finally faded, because I finally found the words to say, “You mean this isn't a joke?”

  “Of course not,” said Dad, shaking his head. He patted the helmet on his lap. “This helmet and suit are the same helmet and suit worn by Genius during his superhero days, a one of a kind ensemble I designed for myself, although I have made a few adjustments to it over the years even after I retired from crime-fighting.”