by Drew Hayes
"No worries, it’s a tradition to invite those of you who last this long to join us. It's our way of saying good job on getting this far, and that we're welcoming you into the Super community at Lander," Angela replied.
"So this party is all Supers?" Alex asked.
"You got it," Angela confirmed. "Feel free to let down your hair and be yourself. Tonight your secret identity is safe with us."
"We really appreciate it," Alice said, using all of her willpower not to curtsy. She had begun rapidly realizing that the stiff formality she had learned at Daddy's functions were not suited to the college environment. Plus, she was wearing slacks, so she would have looked ridiculous.
"Like I said, no big deal," Angela assured. "Besides, you had the balls to come. That means you belong here. You'd be amazed how many people who are here to learn about fighting life and death battles are too squeamish to come out to a party with older students."
"That and it is the beginning of finals time," Hershel pointed out.
"Which is why this also shows us who the irresponsible crowd is," Angela said with a wink. "Anyway, the keg is the garage and we have some liquor on the counter. Help yourself to whatever you want; buying for the freshmen is also part of the tradition."
"Um, we're under age," Vince said.
"As am I, as are most of us here, in fact. I recommend you enjoy it while you can, though. Apparently once you hit junior year there isn't any time for a beer or a party," Angela said. "Your call, though: drink or don't, but mingle and have some fun either way." With that, Angela sauntered back off into the shapeless blob of people.
"Sasha's going to be pissed she missed a chance to be irresponsible," Vince commented once she was gone.
"So's Roy," Hershel added.
"Think he'll want to come out?" Alex asked.
"Absolutely. Now ask me if I care," Hershel said with a sideways grin. "Come on, guys, let's mingle."
A bit surprised at being led by the most socially awkward of the group, everyone followed Hershel as he led them into the kitchen where most people were gathered. Given that the kitchen was where the liquor was kept, as well as the cups, not to mention that it was only a door away from the keg in the garage, it was the logical gathering place for the attendees. What seemed illogical, though, was the ease with which Hershel was navigating them through it. He was greeting people, shaking hands, getting names, and moving onward. It was oddly mind-blowing, though it shouldn't have been. After all, Hershel was a role-player, and with Roy's memories this was a role he knew by heart. If the others were surprised by his rapport with the older students, they were flabbergasted when Hershel finally reached the cups and plucked a few from the top.
"What does everybody want?" Hershel asked, turning his attention to the liquor selection.
"Are you serious?" Vince asked in a nearly strangled voice. "You know we can't drink."
"No, I know that we legally shouldn't drink. I also know that since I didn't drive here, I feel like seeing what it's like firsthand for once, and it seems like these first two years are going to be the only chance we'll get. More importantly, I don't want to go through college with my alter ego as the only one doing stupid crap and trying new things," Hershel said, not without conviction. He didn't feel quite as certain as he sounded, but he was determined to make some memories of his own. His talk with Alex had made him realize how easily he defaulted to letting Roy be the one to go party or chase the girl. This was his life too, damn it.
"Spoken like a man after my own heart," Nick said, stepping to Hershel's side. "Let me try... the gin."
"And?" Hershel asked.
"Um... ice?"
"You want straight gin for your first taste of alcohol," Hershel said incredulously.
"I thought that's how you were supposed to take it," Nick lied.
"Never mind, I'll make you something myself. Roy's tried tons of drinks," Hershel said, waving off Nick. "Anyone else?"
Alice cautiously raised her hand and Alex joined more enthusiastically.
"Guess that makes me the designated driver," Vince grumbled.
"Aw, cheer up, Silver," Nick consoled him. "At least you can see things better than us from up on your moral high ground."
"I'm not on the high ground. I get why you guys want to try it. That's just not my thing," Vince defended.
"Well, bottoms up to Vince for being our reliable driver then," Nick said, accepting a drink from Hershel and toasting with it. He took a sip and was pleasantly surprised. Nick had been drinking since childhood and actually did prefer straight gin, but for a mixed drink Hershel's concoction was pretty good. The smiles and smacks of the rest of the group confirmed his opinion.
"That's tasty, Hershel," Alice complimented. "All I've had is wine with dinner once or twice, and this is way better."
"I do what I can," Hershel modestly.
"What are you drinking?" Alex asked, noting Hershel's liquid was a different color.
"Screwdriver," Hershel replied. "Your drinks have whiskey in them, and I don't drink whiskey."
"Much as I love your same old faces, let’s get out of this corner and go get our mingle on," Nick said, gesturing grandly. He began wading back into the crowd, the others following with far less grandeur. Not without any, mind you; just with less.
54.
Walking around the party was a somewhat surreal experience. Sure, it was a new environment to most of them, but that in itself wasn't overpowering. The odd part was just how normal everything seemed... until it didn't. Seeing a guy talking to a hot girl at a party: normal. Seeing that same guy produce a rose made of perfect glass from nowhere: significantly less normal. It wasn't the extraordinary parts that seemed out of place, it was seeing them used so casually in a place like this. Slowly it was dawning on the Lander freshmen just how paranoid the secret identity had made them over the semester. Hiding their nature was hardly a new experience for some, but it struck Alice that she hadn't gone flying since she first leaned she was able to. Sure, she'd used it here and there in training, that wasn't the same thing as soaring above world, though. Alex, too, was missing the days when he didn't have to keep his nature hidden away under lock and key.
As the group maneuvered the party, they saw mostly unfamiliar faces. Occasionally a member would recognize a sophomore that they'd seen in the hall a few times; however, that can hardly be considered the same as seeing a friend. Gradually, though, more small huddled groups of freshmen joined the party. They moved in packs, unconsciously fearful that they would be picked off should they separate from the herd. Such fears seemed baseless, as all the older students went out of their way to show kindness and a welcoming attitude to the freshmen. Still, the small groups maintained their tight formations.
It was in one other such group that Vince finally saw someone he knew outside of his own social circle.
"Hey!" Vince called out. "Thomas, right?"
"Right," Thomas answered, leading his own small circle toward Vince's. Smacked over the head with a sudden realization of potential unwanted conversation topics, Vince detached himself from his friends and intercepted Thomas on the premise of a friendly handshake.
"Didn't expect to see you here," Vince said with a large smile, squeezing and pumping Thomas' hand.
"Ditto," Thomas echoed. "I thought you'd have had your fill of parties."
"Eh heh. No, you know me, social butterfly. So who are your friends?" Vince asked hastily.
"Oh, well, this is Stella and Violet," Thomas said, taking a step to the side and indicating to each girl in turn. Vince already knew Stella on sight, but Violet turned out to be an almost unremarkable girl from their class. Average height, cute without being eye-catching, but with hair dyed a shade of purple so deep it was almost black (hence the almost quantifier).
"Nice to meet you both," Vince said, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder and see if the others were still hovering in the area. "I never got a chance to say it in person, but thank you again."
"No prob," Stella quipped. "So you don't want your buddies to know you got your ass kicked, huh?"
"Beg pardon?" Vince nearly choked on his words.
"What Stella is trying to say is that it's clear you wanted to greet us before this conversation was in earshot of your friends, and we'll of course respect your wish for privacy," Violet said, a lilting and slightly high-pitched voice piping out of her.
"Oh um... yes," Vince admitted. "I appreciate what you did, but I haven't really told them about what happened."
"There is no shame in what happened to you," Thomas assured him. "We will, as Violet said, of course respect your wishes."
"Sort of a moot point anyway. Looks like they wandered off," Stella pointed out.
"Huh," Vince noticed. "That they did."
"Well, now we get to talk to you outside of a combat situation, so all the better for us," Violet said cheerfully.
"Thank you," Vince said again, unsure of how to respond to such a statement. An honest thought and change of subject both occurred to him at once. "Wasn't there someone else with you that night?"
"Oh, that was my roommate, Camille," Violet explained. "She's not big on parties. I pretty much had to drag her out of the house that night."
"Too bad, I would have liked to thank her in person," Vince said.
"Do it Monday then," Stella said. "In the meantime, how about showing us where the beer in this joint is?"
* * *
"Why are we leaving Vince?" Alex asked as Nick herded the group away after a minute or so of standing around.
"Because it's a party, and the point is to meet new people, not feel guilted into sticking with the ones you already know," Nick explained.
"Still, it seems like we should have said something," Alex objected again.
"I'm actually with Nick on this one," Hershel agreed. "He was mingling with new people. Us hanging around wasn't going to help him with that. Besides, it's a small house, he can find us when he's ready. In the meantime, we can do some mingling of our own, and I think I see the perfect opportunity now." Hershel picked up his pace, leading the others to a ping pong table on which cups were being arranged in a triangular formation and beer was being poured into them.
"Anyone got next game?" Hershel asked.
"Nah," replied a tall boy with black hair who was setting up the cups on one side. "You want in?"
"Sure," Hershel replied. He turned back to look at the others. "Who wants to play with me?"
"I'll watch and learn the game first," Alice said.
"Still working on my first drink. I'm out," Alex said.
"Guess that leaves me," Nick shrugged, stepping up and taking his place on one side of the table.
The other team took their place, and the dark-haired boy laid down the rules. "One bounce is allowed: anymore and you can smack it away. Distractions and trash talk are fine as long as you don't touch the ball. Game can't be won until one team misses and another scores in the same round, so if we keep scoring, neither cup gets removed. Powers are fair game."
Nick raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"
"Totally," the boy confirmed. "It makes these games a lot more fun. Besides, how often do we get to just let go and use them? They're only allowed on your turn, though, and no deflecting with it unless your opponent has bounced more than once."
"Fair enough," Hershel agreed. "I'm Hershel and this is Nick."
"Ben and Chris," said the dark-haired boy, gesturing first to himself, then to his darker-skinned companion. "You need a warm-up round?"
"Nah," Hershel said. "Let's do this."
55.
"So how do you guys know each other?" Vince asked once the ladies had gotten their cups and beer to fill them. Thomas, like Vince, had found the idea of drinking underage not becoming of one reaching for the goal of being a Hero.
"Thomas and I dated for a bit in the first month," Violet said. "It didn't work out too well, but we stayed friends. I met Stella at the gym one day when I was looking for a sparring partner. We gave each other a good workout and decided to do it again the next day. We kept fighting, and somewhere along the way started doing stuff outside of beating each other senseless."
"Wow," Vince said. "So you must be pretty tough if you can fight someone who can turn into solid steel."
"Sort of," Violet admitted, blushing slightly. "I manipulate density. So I can make myself denser than titanium, or so insubstantial that I pass through walls. I can do it in objects, too. That's how I weakened the ice and popped you out that night."
"She's a handful when you get her in the fighting mood," Stella complimented. "She's only one rank behind me at three."
"Impressive," Vince agreed. "And Thomas, you have some sort of energy beams? I saw them when you grabbed Michael."
"Essentially," Thomas nodded. "I command my inner energy outward of my body. It shapes according to my will, though the dimensions are limited by the amount I can summon. In my time at Lander it has grown significantly stronger, though."
"Really? Just from body-breaking exercise?" Vince asked.
"The exercise certainly helps, but I attribute it more to the constant training I do in my off time. Having a variety of skilled opponents forced me to learn to new styles of fighting, and that helped me grow as a warrior subsequently," Thomas explained.
"I see," Vince said. "So it sounds like you spend a lot of time training outside of class."
"We all do," Violet chirped in. "Everyone higher up says it's crazy easy to go from the top to the bottom in your first year if you don't work hard."
"It is especially important in cases like my own," Thomas pointed out. "I am ranked as seven, but my power could easily be viewed as ancillary, more useful as support than combat. I have to work very hard to demonstrate otherwise."
"You've got a leg up on me," Vince said with a smile he didn't feel. "I'm only at eight."
"I'd heard about how you were ranked that high after losing your first bout. You must have put on a hell of a show," Thomas said.
"He took on that douche we pulled off of him. Guess that counts for something," Stella said.
"Not to mention Michael is the worst type of opponent for me," Vince said, only half-defensively. This whole line of conversation was making him realize just how little effort he was putting in compared to some of the other students. He'd been avoiding additional conflict for fear of having to charge up his powers more. That might be a reality he'd have to face sooner than expected if he wanted to keep up with people this determined, though.
"Why is he your worst type?" Violet asked.
"I absorb energy," Vince explained. "Michael’s power is cold-based. Cold is literally the absence of energy, so he can come at me all day and I can't absorb anything he throws."
"Cool power, though," Stella said. "What all can you absorb?"
"Oh you know, just the basics," Vince deflected. "Hey what's going on over there?"
* * *
What was going on over there was a surprisingly close battle of beer pong with both teams down to a single cup. As it turned out, Ben was a shifter like Hershel, so his powers were out of commission until he decided to make the change. So far he was doing well enough in normal form. Hershel was keeping up decently, but it was really Nick and Chris that were the juggernauts of the game. Chris, it turned out, had the power to teleport objects he touched. This made his style of play less bouncing based and more just teleporting directly over the cup he wanted. That should have sealed the game, save only for the Nick factor.
With his honed dexterity and power over luck, Nick was tearing up the table on par with his opponent. Sure he should have been laying low, squeezing by without drawing attention, staying in the middle ground, but damn it, this was fun! He'd been in such a secondary position at Lander, so accustomed to the idea that everyone around him was better at everything. They were stronger, they were faster, even a few of them were smarter. For the first time in months though he was doing something he could win at. It felt g
ood to be a winner; it reminded of who he really was under his ridiculous facade. Besides, it wasn't like people didn't already know what his power was. It would have been more suspicious if he hadn't been running the table. At least, that's what he told himself as he dunked yet another ball into a red cup.
"Fucker," Ben swore, chugging down the contents.
"You're good, Sunglasses. You're real good," Chris told him, picking up the ball for his turn. "But me, I don't miss." The ball vanished from Chris's hand and reappeared a few inches over one of the remaining cups on Hershel and Nick's side.
Nick threw Hershel a glance and the heavier boy took the cup and guzzled. He was beginning to feel all the alcohol, and far sooner than he'd expected. Roy always had such insane tolerance that Hershel had forgotten somewhere along the way that it didn't extend to him. He needed to finish this game soon if they were going to have a chance.
"Come on, Hershel!" Alice cheered in spite of herself. "Sink it to keep the pressure on."
Hershel drew in a breath and took his aim. He released the ball, and it flew almost true. As it landed for its first bounce it veered ever so slightly off course, sending it into the cup's rim instead of the bitter beer inside.
"Oooh, so sorry there, freshman," Ben taunted. "Looks like you just don't know how to push through in the clutch. Don't worry, though, that comes with experience." On the word "experience" Ben tossed his own ball. It arced gracefully through the air, hopping once and depositing itself in the lone remaining cup in front of Nick. Without a second glance Nick scooped up the red cup of failure and did his duty.
"Ah well; win some, lose some," Hershel said, trying to stay steady in spite of a slowly mounting urge to slur.
"You fought a good game," Ben said sportingly. "Chris and I haven't had anyone go that long with us in a long time. Up for another?"
"Not sure about Nick, but I'm going to pass," Hershel replied.
"I can keep going," Nick said with a smile. Unlike Hershel, Nick had earned his tolerance for alcohol the hard way and was nowhere near hitting his limits.