The First: EVO Uprising

by Kipjo Ewers

  Kimberly smiled wiping her eyes, “Uh… you okay there?”

  “Huh?” Sophia came to her senses quickly swatting her eyes. “A breeze just now blew in some sand into my face.”

  Kimberly slowly nodded and turned her face to giggle; her mother retaliated by tossing a pillow at her.

  At the end of the movie, Kimberly energetically began to sing the main song mimicking the voice of Idina Menzel. Her mother halted her solo.

  “Sing it with your own voice,” she smiled.

  “I’ve… never…” Kimberly coiled back in her seat.

  She had mastered her vocal mimicry ability to copy the voices of others, especially popular singers. It was a great ice breaker to meet new friends and won her some school talent shows, but she had never tried to sing in her own voice.

  “You will tonight.” Sophia grabbed her hand.

  A reluctant Kimberly followed her mother over to a Mason & Hamlin upright piano. Sophia taught herself to play because she always wanted to learn. Her cognitive abilities helped her replay the song via the keystrokes. She then began to sing the first part of the song in her own voice. Kimberly started the second part using Idina’s voice, but Sophia stopped her again.

  “You know the lyrics, and the melody. All you have to do is channel it through your own voice.”

  “I don’t have…” She lowered her head.

  She gently raised her head by her chin so that she looked into her eyes.

  “Yes, you do,” she smiled. “You’ve just never used it before. Remember what I said about adjusting to your environment? It’s just you and me, so have some fun with it.”

  Sophia began again and waited. Her voice was small and cracked at first. Little by little, her voice gained strength, as she sung a duet with her mother.

  She kept nudging her daughter to loosen up. Eventually she did, no longer caring if her voice was perfect. Their voices soared higher and higher taking them to the end where they both sung the last line as arrogant as Elsa.

  Like deer in front of headlights, they froze to the sound of applauds and claps outside. Mother and daughter slinked down giggling and dying of embarrassment, not remembering that their windows were open, and their voices carried.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  The next day, early afternoon, Sophia stood on the runway of her airport with her daughter and Earl wearing the outfit constructed by Lady Tech.

  A disappointed Kimberly lowered her newly-braided hair as her mother held her right hand rubbing it.

  “I will be gone three hours tops,” she promised her. “I have one errand I have to attend to, and your grandmother gridlocked my voicemail with messages ever since the incident in Times Square. If I don’t go and see her, she will swim over here and kill me.”

  “She has abilities like us?” Kimberly raised her head.

  “No,” Sophia chuckled, “but she comes really close. I also want to tell her about you, so that she can get ready to meet you… like, maybe tomorrow.”

  Her face brightened up at the prospect of meeting more family.

  “Really?” she pressed.

  “I promise,” her mother nodded, “in the meantime, look after the island, and make sure Earl doesn’t get into any trouble.”

  “I’m standing right here, you know,” Earl scoffed.

  “I know.” She looked up at him. “I wanted you to be in earshot when I said it.”

  “I’ll hold the fort down, boss,” he smiled.

  “You know how to reach me if you need anything.”

  She backed up a couple of steps, then paused, wagging a finger at Kimberly, remembering something.

  “Oh, while I’m gone,” she smirked, “you might want to go apologize to your two buddies. I think they’re still a bit hurt over what you said.”

  Kimberly knew she was talking about Kyle and Akram. She lowered her head again, nodding in agreement that she needed to make amends.

  With a powerful leap, she took to the skies, soaring high and fast skimming Earth’s atmosphere, propelling herself toward the United States in mere minutes.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  Fifteen minutes later, she soared over her home town of Mount Vernon heading for Seventh Avenue. Children coming home from school flocked around yelling and cheering as she descended, landing in the streets. They attacked her with questions about the battle in Times Square. Her answers to the sea of questions were, “Yes, he was big,” “Yes, it hurt when he hit me,” “Yes, I put his lights out,” and “No, he would not be coming back.”

  She raised her head to see her mother standing on the steps of their house with her godfather, Uncle Mac, their conversation interrupted by her entrance.

  “Lawd god,” Uncle Mac cackled, “Nopel look pon dis! Ah supawoman descend pon us!”

  “And what?” Ms. Dennison scanned him up and down.” Ah, my pickney dere. Me suppose to be impressed every time she swoop in and swoop out? You move.”

  With three loud claps and a whistle, she got the attention of the crowd of children holding her daughter hostage.

  “All right,” she yelled with motherly authority. “All you pickney gwone ah ya yard! De Q&A session is over! Don’t make me say it twice!”

  “Yes, Mrs. Dennison!” the children obediently said in unison before dispersing.

  Sophia slowly took her time walking to the front gate as her mother stood waiting with her hands at her hips.

  “Well… well,” her mother huffed, “look what the cat dragged in?”

  “Hi, Mummy.” She gave a sheepish smile.

  “Yuh nuh see yuh Uncle Mac standing over here?” Her mother motioned with a head gesture.

  “Hi, uncle Mac,” she greeted, waving.

  “Hey, baby girl!” He gave a bright smile revealing a missing top and bottom tooth.

  “What you standin out dere for?” her mother commanded. “Bring ya self ina de yard!”

  Obediently the most powerful woman on the planet entered the gate of her parent’s home standing before her. Mrs. Dennison grabbed her and proceeded to give her three hard slaps on her rear. Sophia squirmed around pretending it actually hurt.

  “Low her, Nopel!” Mac busted out laughing. “Low her!”

  “Me half fe hear bout you fightin in ah de news!” Mrs. Dennison continued to spank her. “And you can’t pick up de phone fe call ya mada?”

  “I’m sorry, Mummy! I’m sorry!” Sophia yelled, laughing.

  Her mother gave her one final slap for good measure.

  “When dat big ugly bastada lick you, and you clout him back?” her mother asked wagging a finger. “Him look worst dan you?”

  Her daughter answered with a head nod.

  “Good,” her mother nodded back.

  “Well me half fi run.” Uncle Mac continued to laugh as he descended the steps.

  Sophia met him, giving him a big hug, lifting him off the last set of steps.

  “Lawd god, you strong,” her godfather laughed with amazement.

  As she put him down, he quickly put an arm around his goddaughter’s back leading her away from her mother.

  “Hey Sophia, me have some barrels me need fi send down ah yard to me sista,” he asked seriously.

  Mrs. Dennison walked over, ending the transaction. Although she was five inches shorter than him, she grabbed the back collar of his shirt and draped him up.

  “You fasty wretch you!” She shook him. “You see UPS written on my pickney’s forehead?

  “Wha ya do, Nopel?” he yelled struggling to get away. “Ah me good shirt dis!”

  “Gwone ah yah yard!” She final released him. “Before me report you missing.”

  “Talk to ya lata,” he nodded while straightening out his wrinkle shirt.

  As he exited the gate, he slipped in a “Call me later” to Sophia about his favor. She responded with a head nod as he walked off hea
ding to his car.

  She turned to her mother and knew what she was thinking.

  “I’ll call up Benji, he’ll be happy to make the run,” she smiled.

  “God bless you child,” her mother nodded, “now what dat you have on?”

  She knew her mother was referring to her new attire. She gave a twirl showing it off.

  “You like it?” she smiled. “It’s my new flight outfit.”

  “Huh uh, where de rest of it?” Her mother gestured to the missing midsection.

  The clucking of the family rooster strutting up to her saved her from answering her mother.

  “Hey Tooni!” she beamed crouching down. “How are you?”

  “Rude as eva,” answered her mother, “he should have stayed gone.”

  Sophia smirked knowing her mother was only jesting, as she remembered the “Great Tooni incident of 2011.” Two weeks after her mother got Tooni from a friend closing up his live poultry store to retire in Jamaica. Some juvenile delinquents stormed the Dennisons’ garage roof tearing off the shingles throwing them into the yard. To add insult to injury, they climbed down, cornered, and made off with poor Tooni minding his own business.

  Sophia came home to her mother distraught with tears and decided to do what any child defending their parent would do. Retaliate.

  Two powerful fly-bys shattered every single glass window within the projects that resided near Third and Fourth Avenue, forcing its residence into the quad, where a furious Sophia gave an ultimatum. Return the rooster alive and intact in one hour, or she would destroy every vehicle within the parking lot of the projects; she also made it clear that every hour the rooster was still missing; she would turn her attention to the cars parked on the street.

  Tooni was returned within fifteen minutes. The juveniles dealt with by their parents.

  Her final warning was that all homes, cars, and residents of Seventh Avenue between Fifth and Sixth Street, especially her parents’ house was a nation unto itself, and she was their nuclear weapon. Natives of Mount Vernon got the hint and passed the word to leave Seventh Avenue alone.

  “So you eat yet?” Her mother walked up to her, touching and inspecting her outfit along with her hair.

  “Nope,” she shook her head.

  “Come,” Mrs. Dennison turned heading for the steps of their home. “Me just made some stew fish, wit dumpling, rice and peas, and callaloo fi ya poopa when him come home.”

  “Where is dad?” Sophia raised an brow searching for his car.

  “Where you tink him is?” She cut her eyes. “Down ah the shop cutting Joe’s hair. Ever since you fix him knee, dat man can’t stay put.”

  “I didn’t replace his knee so he could wear it out again.” She rolled her eyes. “I did it so he could retire and walk without pain.”

  “Him don’t do it often baby girl,” her mother defended her husband a bit, “him need something to do from time to time, and when him home, de house don’t stay clean, so dat’s fine wit me.”

  Sophia sighed as she followed her mother into the house. While her mother prepared her plate, she walked around inspecting it for any possible repairs she may have to do in the future.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  The day she awoke from the bottom of the ocean floor, she actually made a beeline for home first to see her parents before going to DC for Kimberly. Sophia was amazed at how neither her mother or father even flinched on the day she showed up stark naked with glowing eyes on their doorstep. They only cared that she was alive and finally home.

  After coming to the decision that it was best her daughter kept believing she was dead, she stayed home in her old room for almost two months. Her mother who only had a limited amount of patience for pity parties gave her the ultimatum to get up and do something or getting doused with ice water every morning.

  A reluctant Sophia decided to fix their house. Several “step by step” do it yourself videos on YouTube had her doing everything from tiling and plumbing to masonry work.

  Within less than a month, she had restored her parents’ home where it looked better than the day her father finished renovations on it.

  Bored again, she started working on their neighbors’ homes, taught herself to do automotive work, learned to speak every language in the known world, and read every medical journal she could get her hands on. After upgrading her parents’ entire block within a span of two months she set out every morning at eight to test her other limits. She traveled to different countries; some of them war torn. At five o’clock, she would return always with a souvenir for her parents, eat dinner with them and talk about her day.

  The only time her mother had real fear concerning her was when Sophia finally mustered the courage to fly into space. The combination of boredom and lounging around watching the old Christopher Reeve movie made her attempt the feat. Wearing just a thick black insulated wetsuit she purchased for her deep diving adventures, she remembered the Friday she took off into the sky and kept going straight up.

  Five seconds before she was supposed to break through the atmosphere she almost lost her nerve the second she started to see stars.

  Her desire to brag about being the first woman to fly into outer space under her own propulsion made her stay the course for those last five seconds.

  Sophia, still to this day, could not determine what overwhelmed her most. The fact that she possessed the power to fly into space or that she could survive within its harsh atmosphere without the need for air.

  Returning with smoking burn marks on her diving suit from the reentry, she acted as a child who had just rode her bike for the first time without training wheels. So caught up in her tale she did not realize until the end the fear her mother fought to hide with a smile.

  Mrs. Dennison was used to the fact that her daughter was a superhuman; they were all over the news and on television. At that moment, it set in that her daughter was beyond a superhuman level. She also saw recklessness in Sophia’s eyes that day. She feared what this near godly invincibility would do to her.

  It was on that day Sophia decided to make plans to set out and live on her own once more. She did not want to see that fear in her mother’s eyes again.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  As she sat down at the granite island, in the sun-yellow colored kitchen, she watched with a sentimental smile the older woman she was forged from. Her coco brown African skin and slightly broad English nose came from her mother, while her once curly brown hair, light brown eyes, and Latin features were a gift from her father.

  At sixty-two years old, she could not find a speck of gray hair on her mother’s head. She found it amusing how her parents became a mesh of each other just as she was. Growing up she thought both her parents were Jamaican. The truth was her mother came from Kingston, Jamaica while her father was first generation born from Belize City in Belize. She started as a bus driver, eventually getting a position as a secretary in a major purse and luggage company until promoted to office manager working there until her early retirement. Her father opened his own chain of barbershops, learning his skills from his father passed on by his grandfather. Her brother, Anthony, took over the chain five years after graduating from college. Her father continued to cut his personal clients and friends from time to time until his right knee went out on him due to the constant standing. Sophia performed the operation to replace it and helped him with rehabilitation herself.

  Aside from their children, they shared a love of music, a love of God, and a deep love for one another, even when they bickered.

  Two minutes later, they ate early dinner together. Her mother filled her in on who passed away, who got married, who was pregnant, and who was asking for her. Sophia shared the goings on at her island, and she briefly talked about the events at Times Square not wanting to bring up any gory details at the table. She rolled her eyes when asked if
she was still single.

  She was maneuvering through the trenches searching for an opening to drop the bomb on her mother that she had been a grandmother in regard to her for the past ten years.

  Finished with their dinner, her mother made peppermint tea, while Sophia cleaned up, throwing out the scraps and washing the dishes.

  She sat down again as Mrs. Dennison placed her hot piping tea in front of her along with some sweet milk. She sat down as well, opting to put honey in her own tea.

  “Oh! I before I forget,” Sophia said, slowly stirred the milk into her tea, “you’re a grandmother.”

  She braced herself while fidgeting in her seat.