Super Nobody (Alphas and Omegas Book 1)

by Brent Meske

  ***

  When he awoke he was in his room, and the cheerful, annoying sound of crickets was coming in loud and clear through his window. It wasn't yet late enough in the year to shut them up, but the weather was cooling down, bit by bit. Grandpa was sitting at the foot of his bed, smiling kindly down at him.

  “Hey there Michael. Rough day today?”

  He mumbled something.

  “Second time in a couple of months I've had to give you a glass of water. Here you go.” He handed it over and helped Michael clear the desert out of his throat. “Listen kiddo, I know you were scared, and you had every right to be. But I want to assure you everything is alright. Completely alright, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Grandpa didn't wait for him to ask what happened. “The school used a sleeping gas in the air ducts. And yes, before you ask, they've planned for this. It's been on a lot of minds since your friend Trent crashed the Spring Ball. Your mother was in on the PTA meetings that decided it. They were ready as soon as Mr. Groebels called them.”

  “What happened to Jared? Did anybody get hurt?”

  Grandpa frowned. “There were a couple of scratches, but nothing serious. Jared only hurt himself, I'm sorry to say. Listen kiddo, people think that if they go Active all their problems are just going to go away. That's not how it works.

  “Being Active is a whole new set of problems in and of itself. You don't just wish for a spaceship to fly away and then not read the owner's manual on how to fly the thing, right? You'd get yourself killed off in space, flying too close to a supernova.”

  “That's from Star Wars isn't it?”

  “I didn't know my grandson was into the classics.”

  He wasn't, not as much as Charlotte, but she rubbed off on him a lot.

  “Well anyway, you're right. Jared didn't understand that he couldn't just split off his mind in that many directions and hope he could stay out of the looney bin. He was trying to study for all his subjects at the same time.”

  “Something happened,” Michael said. He explained about the gold flash of light.

  “Ah, right,” Grandpa said. “That was another of the city's Actives. She can transport herself anywhere she's been before in the blink of an eye. She got Mr. Groebels out of there before Jared could really hurt him.”

  Michael shook his head. Mr. Groebels had been under siege by fifty of one kid who had made himself nuts by copying himself too many times. Another kid had sprouted lightning from his body. This wasn't happening. You didn't wake up and say 'hmm, I wonder if someone's going to fly right through my office building today' or 'wouldn't it be totally out of control if this kid cloned himself over a hundred times and ripped apart his teachers?'

  “What is going on?” Michael groaned.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean everything's nuts. Completely crazy.”

  “I thought you'd say something like that. Listen kiddo, I wanted to have this chat with you, because others might think they can get in on the action. And everybody knows that you get your ability in a time of stress. Everybody knows you get something that you need, something that will help you at that point in time. They'll want their own power so they can levitate cars and shoot lasers at people they don't like. But I need you to promise me you're not going to try anything dumb, okay?”

  Michael thought about it. Sure it would be cool, to fly or jump into a spiked pit or teleport wherever you wanted, but a lot of people had killed themselves trying to go Active, after Marcus Patterson. Thousands in the first few months.

  “You told me that last time. Mr. Springfield said the same thing.”

  “Well we meant it. There ain't nothing wrong with being a normal kid, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said.

  “That's a good boy. Now, here's your reader thing. Your mother tells me school's going to be closed tomorrow, so you've got yourself a nice three day weekend. How's that sound?”

  It sounded like the start of time flowing back to normal. October was half over by the time Jared went multiple and mental, and the rest of it slunk out without any other mention of Jared McClaren or Trent. Halloween passed as usual. He went out as Harry Potter and nobody really understood, but he hadn't expected them to. Charlotte showed up looking like a thrift store had thrown up on her. She explained that she was going as a hippie. It didn't do much to explain the red-tinted sunglasses, flowery and flowing dress on top of the bell bottoms, or the rings and bangles, but Michael didn't mind. She looked great.

  But when November showed its red, gold, and pink face, the worst and most unimaginable thing happened to Michael.

  He lost his only friend.

  One day she was telling him about how the twins were making trouble at home, and then that she'd started to get into the work of a guy named John Legend, and the next she didn't show up to school at all. She couldn't have been sick.

  She didn't show up the next day. Or the next.

  Her mother wasn’t home when he went over, either.

  Then one day during first hour, which was social studies again, Jared McClaren came in before the bell rang. Silence took over the classroom at his heels. Everybody stared at him, but he only looked around, passed Michael, tripped over a desk, muttered something about a bathroom, and headed out again. He was lucky Wozniak hadn't gotten to the classroom, he thought.

  Somebody told the old man just as soon as he'd walked in the class, though.

  Mr. Wozniak's eyes widened. “What, where? Where exactly did he go? What did he do?”

  Lindsay Schwartz cocked her head. “He must have been drunk or something. He was tripping all over the place. He went over there and...” She appeared to realize that she was pointing right at Michael, and hastily pulled her hand back.

  “And?” Mr. Wozniak asked.

  “He just went to the bathroom.”

  Mr. Wozniak was on the phone before she finished her sentence. The school was on lockdown in a matter of minutes. Even though his grandfather had told him about it, Michael was still surprised when someone came over the intercom to say it was a code yellow, and for everyone to remain in their classrooms. A golden flash erupted just outside the door, and the face of a young woman appeared in the window. Mr. Wozniak held up his hands in a big X shape. He's not here.

  The search lasted through the bell time, and all of them were twenty minutes late for second period. Michael didn't mind. But what he did have trouble with was why Jared had come in, tripped on his shoelaces right in front of Michael, and then disappeared without a trace. Michael didn't bother with where the carrot-headed kid was. He was probably on the run out to New Mexico or something. Anywhere but the prison they'd put him in.

  He thought it was weird until he opened his bag to get out his math books and found a piece of paper stuffed inside.

  “What the...” he said.

  Open me after school, it said.

  He did. It was a long and confusing day. Charlotte didn't show up again, but Jared did. Michael’s worry about Charlotte was tinted with questions about Jared’s situation. Was he locked up someplace? Could he just put his hand out of the bars and make a new copy to go out and deliver the message? And once he started wondering what was in the message, he couldn't get that out of his head either.

  Maybe Jared was in contact with Trent. Maybe Jared knew about what Michael had done to Trent, and thought Michael could help. Maybe Jared didn't have any friends and wanted someone to talk to. However he'd gotten out, he should have just run away. Far away.

  Michael tried to get through the day, imagining what Jared would do to keep himself company if he ran away. Playing chess against yourself had to be a pretty dull way to pass the time. He could play video games, but he would always win.

  When the day finally ended, Michael didn't think he'd learned a single thing. He had a million questions for Jared McClaren and wherever they'd put him. He tore out of school, went to the bike rack, and realized he hadn't been bringing his bike to school for ages.
It was another example of how strange everything had gotten.

  He tore the note out of his bag and checked to see nobody was around. He didn't know why, maybe it was all the extra security at the school, but this was a secret note and he didn't want anybody reading over his shoulder.

  “What...” he asked. The end of the note was signed Charlotte.

  Hi Michael,

  I'm really sorry I couldn't come 2 school the last 3 days. Actually I can't come anymore. Anyway don't worry about me. Just spin one of the old CDs I was telling you about. You should play track 6 on the Janis Joplin album. Or if you want, song #2 by Blur is another you would probably like. Or maybe 4 Non-Blondes. Maybe not.

  My mom says keep your nose clean. And the twins are their normal boring selves.

  Take care, and here's a hug for you,

  —Charlotte

  “Weird,” he said to no one, as he finished the letter.

  He tried to figure out just what she was talking about in the letter. She hadn't explained much of anything. All she'd done is not exactly be herself. Sure she was weird, but she'd never written him an e-mail or a letter with the word 'to' written in a number instead. Plus, the twins were never their 'boring' selves. It was like they'd lived through another adventure every day Charlotte talked about them.

  Maybe it was a code. Michael's heart was suddenly racing. There didn't seem to be enough of a note for much of a code, but still. She was probably trying to tell him something. The numbers had to be the key.

  If he put the 2, 3, 6, 2 and 4 together...

  “Not long enough to be a phone number,” he said. She could have made up an e-mail address, but she didn't put down any sort of site name. He puzzled over it on his paper route, thinking out loud while enjoying the brisk November weather. He hadn't realized just how miserable he'd been without any Charlotte in his life. There wasn't enough radical shifting in music with the regular kids, not that they talked to him, but he could still hear their music playing from their mini boomboxes. It was the same broken factory being blown to smithereens with someone shouting, or the softcore rap some of them were into. He wanted to hear about the music that had changed history, and see the clothes people wore way back when. He wanted something out of left field every few weeks. Mostly he just wanted to watch Charlotte be very animated, like the way her eyes slid halfway down whenever she put on a really groovy record, and she wiggled her shoulders back and forth. Sometimes she'd snap her fingers.

  That was the best.

  Everybody else at school had no idea what real was. They only listened to the new music because that's what they saw on TV, that's what got advertised all over the internet. Charlotte was more solid than the rest of them, pulsing with life. Everybody else was willing to give up on a bullied fifth grader. They were afraid of a sixth grader who'd beaten up the bad guy. Not Charlotte. She wasn't afraid of anything.

  He thought maybe the numbers were a zip code, but he looked it up as soon as he got home, and discovered that it was the code for Ramona California. Even if she was there, it would have taken her like an hour by suborbital shuttle. And if, by some reason she'd given the note to Jared and he was there, he would have had to drive for like four days just to get to town. Ramona California was a bust.

  Grandpa was waiting for him when he finished his route, with a tall glass of IBC in one hand and a beer in the other.

  “Guess which one's for you,” he said.

  “Umm...” he said.

  “You're right, I couldn't just give you a beer. Wouldn't be responsible of me. How you doing kiddo? Got some time to chew the fat with your old grandfather? How was school?”

  Michael had never been a super quick kid. He was smart, sure, books and all, well-read too, but he hadn't won any battles of wits, ever.

  Still, when Grandpa looked at him like he did, it set off a warning bell in his head. His grandfather did not look at him with that eager twinkle in his eye. He also did not meet Michael at the door to his house. These were special circumstances.

  “It was alright,” he said. “Where's mom?”

  “Off shopping. She sent me over to see you didn't set anything on fire. She told me the school called her to tell her that Jared was in today, which she thought was pretty strange.”

  “Yeah, he was in and out.” Michael grinned, remembering the look on Mr. Wozniak's face. “You should have seen Mr. Wozniak.” He knew right away this was the wrong thing to say.

  “Mr. Wozniak might have been in danger.”

  Michael's face fell. “Yeah I know.” Grandpa was the last person in the world he wanted disappointed with him. “He was fine. Jared didn't come back.”

  “And nothing else happened?”

  “No...it was just school as usual.” Except it wasn't. There were some numbers he needed to piece together. He hadn't learned anything all day, and he had some homework he didn't really understand that needed doing.

  “Well, let's crack them books kiddo. Finish up homework by the time your mom gets back and I'll talk to her about ordering a pizza.”

  “Alright,” Michael said, with an inward whoop of excitement. He was going to do his homework anyway. Bonus pizza? Letter from Charlotte? It was the best day of the week so far.

  He still had the feeling, over bonus pizza, that Grandpa was trying to get something out of him. It was almost like Grandpa knew about the letter from Charlotte and just wanted Michael to admit it so he could take a look. But then he told himself it was just his imagination, and that he just felt guilty for holding something back from Grandpa.

  The little thought popped back up into his head. Yeah, it said, but your grandfather is holding things back from you too.

  Not that Grandpa owed him explanations for everything he did.

  “Shut up, gah,” he muttered.

  “Something wrong Michael?” his mother asked.

  “No,” he said, and shook his head. “I'm going to head to bed.”

  “This early?” She looked really worried about him, which worried him.

  “I can read in bed,” he said.

  “Well okay...say goodnight to your grandfather.”

  He dreamed about numbers that night. He dreamed he was flying above the continental US, and that little flashes of numbers zapped to bright yellow here or there, where the numbers were rearranged. But that couldn't be right. If he had to mix up those numbers, there were thousands of possible combinations. As the thought came, it seemed like half the US flashed gold.

  No, that wasn't it.

  He tossed and turned all night, woke up feeling more tired than when he went to bed, and headed out late enough that he had to ride his bike. He didn't even have time to pack a lunch.

  It was a crisp November morning, and his bike crunched through the early morning frost. The sun was being lazy today, just a silver disk low in the overcast sky. The wind pummeled at him.

  School wasn't much better. It seemed extra dark today, for some reason. Michael didn't feel like he could get through a whole day like this, no Charlotte, just having something from her but not knowing what it meant.

  He stopped at his locker and looked down at the black lock. It was a few minutes past eight in the morning. Normally he was a morning person, sitting with his back to the locker and immersed in a book only he could see. Today he just stood staring at the flat expanse of cobalt blue, with the slits at the top and bottom to make sure he didn't suffocate his books to death. To let in a little light in case he was growing a predatory plant with a taste for human blood.

  It took an extra helping of concentration just to remember his locker com. As he fumbled with the knob and messed it up for the second time, a bolt of white inspiration struck him right between the ears.

  The numbers on Charlotte's note were her locker com. 2, 3, 6, 2, 4 Maybe it was 23, 6, 24.

  He couldn't check now, with the halls nearly empty. New kids were showing up every minute. Or could he, there weren't many kids around, and practically no adults. It wasn't aga
inst some sort of school law, but he'd never broken into somebody else's locker before. He felt a thrill of danger as he looked down the hall to where her locker sat. Nobody around. One fourth or fifth grader sitting and doing some early morning homework.

  He headed over there, trying not to look like he was up to something sneaky. He was trembling with fear as he drew close to the locker. It looked like every other one in the school. So why did he feel like there was some special secret hidden behind that cobalt-painted door?

  He flipped the dial around to the right three times, and settled on twenty-three, then he spun it to the left and landed on six, and finally over to twenty-four. He sucked in a deep breath and tried to steady his hammering heart, then tugged the lock.

  Nothing happened.

  He stared at it in disbelief. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't right.

  It could. And did. He couldn't go through another day like this, thinking over the numbers again and again until he'd spun himself in circles. Not that it would matter much, because he was headed to the hospital again.

  There was going to be another Activation, and this one would be big. Big enough that Michael would have no choice but to jump out of its path.