by C. C. Ekeke
The Korean boy, shorter and skinnier than Hugo, had a bowl-cut Bruce Lee hairstyle and Bose headphones slung around his neck. As they left campus, Simon looked back at Brie and her squad with pure loathing. “Told ya!”
“Yeah, like nine times,” Hugo grumbled, already feeling crappy enough.
“Again,” Simon asked. “Besides looks, what’s so great about that shallow, two-faced drama queen?”
Hugo tensed angrily, needing no reminder of Simon’s dislike for Brie. “You don’t understand her.” Brie could charm the shit out of anyone, young and old. “She only goes into ‘mean girl mode’ around her squad. Especially Spencer.” He uttered the name of Brie’s friend with sharp disgust. That girl was evil. Ugh. “Briseis’s been through a lot this year.”
“And you haven’t?” Simon replied flatly.
Hugo flinched. Familiar icy grief filled his chest. “Briseis was there for me last year…after everything. Like you.” The topic made Hugo’s eyes start burning. He retreated from it as fast as possible. “I’ve been too needy.” Hugo had been hanging around Brie tons the last two weeks. Correction, he’d acted like a Stage 7 clinger. Hugo shuddered in embarrassment. “She just needs space.”
Simon made a rude noise. “Can that space become permanent?”
“No,” Hugo replied, patience thinning.
“At least find out why she says, ‘That’s so funny’ instead of laughing at jokes like normal people—”
Hugo had heard enough. “I love her, Simon. Deal with it,” he stated, flat and firm.
Simon softened. “Then stop letting her treat you like shit.”
Hugo couldn’t deny Simon’s words. “Fine.” Ten minutes later, they entered Paso Robles’s center of glassy buildings and Manhattan-style high-rises.
Hugo spied a massive billboard covering the full side of a building. He stopped and his mood brightened. “Ooh!” he exclaimed and pointed, drawing Simon’s attention.
The towering image of a sexy Korean girl in a cropped pink hoodie exposing her toned belly would grab anyone’s eye. Arms folded atop her head, she gazed seductively at whoever passed or drove by. Hugo recognized her, as many would. Since her first English album dominated the charts last year, L.U.N.A had become one of the world’s biggest popstars. “L.U.N.A’s coming to San Miguel this summer!”
Simon looked the opposite of joyful. “Hard pass. I’d rather chew glass than watch L.U.N.A’s no-talent ass warble and wiggle onstage.”
Hugo eyed his friend reproachfully. “L.U.N.A has no talent? She can sing her damn lungs out and dance the hell outta her performances.”
“Then she should do porn,” Simon suggested, unimpressed.
Hugo snorted with laughter. Simon rarely minced words on his dislikes. “You don’t even think she’s pretty or has a bomb-ass body?”
“Again. Porn.”
Hugo rolled his eyes. “Hater…”
“I’ll admit,” Simon confessed, stone-faced. “Face-wise? She’s not a burn victim.”
Hugo belted out disgusted laughter. “WOW.”
“Just saying.” Simon raised a finger to clarify. “There are prettier, more talented K-Pop singers who better represent my people.” He brightened while thinking of examples. “Like the girls in Blackpink!”
Hugo knew another reason why Simon hated L.U.N.A. Like many, he assumed her “romance” with Blur of the Extreme Teens was a sham to launch her American music career. Simon despised corporate-sponsored superheroes like the Extreme Teens. But Hugo preferred not to debate on an empty stomach. “Anyway. Hungry?”
“Very. Apple Farm or Beach Bum Burger?”
Hugo loved Beach Bum, but it would be full of Paso High kids. “Let’s Apple Farm it,” he decided.
“How cute,” someone sneered behind them. “Planning your next date.” Rage and some fear churned in Hugo’s gut. He and Simon turned to see five former freshmen, strapping and gigantic.
A tall, lean Latino teen with slicked hair advanced, wearing a San Miguel Sentinels basketball jersey. Baz Martinez, Hugo’s archrival, was an all-around shithead and picture of arrogant entitlement. He might’ve been handsome if not for his arrogant sneer and cold dark eyes. “You lovebirds on another date?”
His friends—Cody Banks, DeDamien Harris, Brent Longwell and TJ Lee—all cackled.
Hugo glared at Baz with muted hatred.
"OMG!" Simon cupped his own face mockingly. “What an original joke, Baz-tard!”
“Yo.” DeDamien approached, six-foot-seven, not counting his idiotic Frohawk. The basketball player was the tallest of Baz’s friends, and most sadistic. “Probably Hugo’s jump-off since he can’t score with Brie. Know what I’m sayin’?” He jabbed at Hugo’s chest, making him stumble back.
Baz guffawed, exchanging high-fives with DeDamien. “Nice one, hermano!”
Hugo just wanted to eat Apple Farm pancakes and go home. But Baz had to ruin it. He’d routinely tormented Hugo and Simon since 7th grade. “Here’s a thought, clearly one more than you’ve had all week,” the Samoan snapped. “Go back to playing with your basketballs.”
Cody, another basketballer with jagged sandy blond hair, frowned. “And you think our jokes suck.”
“Oh, they do!” Simon confirmed.
Baz prodded Hugo and sneered. “Watching you embarrass yourself with Brie used to be funny. Now it’s pathetic.” He pushed Hugo harder, his sneer widening. “Find someone your type. Like Simon.”
Hugo slapped Baz’s hand away, seething. “Don’t touch me.”
Baz laughed. “Or what?” He got in his face, emphasizing the large height deficit. “You gonna cry?”
Brent, known for his flavorless good looks, was Baz’s errand boy on varsity basketball. Sometimes the buzz cut blond was less cruel than Baz’s other friends. “Baz. You’ve had your fun. I’m hungry.”
Hugo was quivering, clenched fists itching to punch Baz’s teeth in. Then what, a voice warned, his buddies beat the crap outta you and Simon.
Simon grabbed Hugo’s shoulder, drawing him away. “C'mon.” His friend looked around uneasily. “These jackasses ain’t worth the oxygen.” Hugo followed Simon’s gaze and quickly understood. A growing number of students had gathered, buzzing with anticipation.
“Wait for it,” TJ Lee grunted, 250-plus pounds of hulking bear-muscle. The baldheaded footballer’s glee didn’t make him any less ugly. “The tears are coming.”
“Go ahead, Hugo,” Baz taunted. “Cry like you did for your dead daddy.”
The crowd let out an uncomfortable “Ooooooooh.” Simon gasped in disgust.
“Jesus, Sebastian,” Brent murmured. “Uncool.”
“Shut up, Brent,” Baz and DeDamien snapped.
Hugo froze, the mention of his father a white-hot knife to the gut. Almost a year of hell for his family landed on his chest, heavy and oppressive. He whirled around in anger, ready to curse Baz out with every creative swearword he knew.
Then his burning eyes found Brie far back in the crowd with her squad. She looked on with alarm. Hugo felt ice-cold panic. Brie couldn’t see him cry…again. She’ll respect me even less. Abruptly, a new strategy came to mind. One that would do serious damage.
A performance, at Baz’s expense. He turned to Simon with a devious smile.
His friend quickly understood. “Word association time!” Simon shouted.
That wiped the smirks off those boys’ faces. “Don’t you dare!” Baz warned.
Hugo’s grin broadened. “Hair!”
Simon focused on Cody. “Cody,” he began, hands clasped in regret. “You got the haircut of a soccer mom having a mid-life crisis. How ya doing?”
Several students around them laughed. Cody clutched his own hair and pointed at the duo, swearing.
“Face!” Simon called out.
Hugo felt joyous as the perfect insult came to mind. “TJ. You’re soooo ugly, your sneezes come out the back of your head to avoid your face.” The crowd erupted uproariously. TJ immediately barreled forward, only fo
r the surging crowd to block him so they could hear more takedowns.
“Charisma!” Hugo declared.
Simon smiled at his next victim. “Brent Longwell,” he announced. “Almost forgot you were there since you’re blander than boiled cauliflower.” The chorus of crowd amusement startled Brent.
Hugo went further, blood singing. “You’re soooo boring, looking in the mirror makes your reflection doze off.”
Brent tried getting angry but ended up laughing.
Baz smacked his chest. “Stop laughing, dumbass,” he demanded. “They’re insulting you.”
Brent shrugged. “It’s funny.”
“Phonies!” Hugo called to Simon, the crowd urging them on.
“Dumb-Dumb-Damien.” The Korean boy pointed at the tallest of Baz’s enraged friends. “All hood and strictly street, yo.” Simon snorted. “Please, bitch. Everyone in school knows you’re from rich-as-fuck El Marquez. Money can’t buy street cred, you bourgeois black wannabe thug.” More explosive laughter. DeDamien roared curses at Simon and Hugo.
Hugo fist-bumped Simon, impressed. “Nice.”
The Korean boy smirked, saving the final target for Hugo. “Loser.”
“Speaking of Baz.” Hugo trembled with glee and turned to Baz. “What’s his deal again?”
“Bullying classmates to look like a man for Papa Martinez,” Simon offered.
Hugo scoffed. “Never happening.”
Baz’s face darkened. Hugo didn’t care. “Chokes his chicken to videos of himself playing basketball.”
The crowd let out a collective Ewwww. Baz’s friends gave him baffled looks. “How did…” He quickly recovered, pointing at Hugo. “I mean, that’s NOT TRUE. Liar!”
Hugo raised a hand, hushing the rabid mob. That was cool. “And at the b-ball playoffs, he just choked.” Deafening Oooooooohs rose from the crowd.
Baz and his friends shot murderous looks at Hugo. Reaching the basketball playoffs had been a huge deal for Paso High. Baz missing a game-winning shot to move the Bearcats beyond Round 2 had received schoolwide displeasure.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Simon announced, pointing to Baz, “we have an actual human vacuum cleaner. He sucks AND blows at the same time!”
A bigger roar of delighted approval. Even Brie, who loathed Simon, was howling.
“I’ll beat your ass, you loudmouthed hobbit.” Baz lunged at Hugo. “And your boyfriend!”
Hugo and Simon danced away as Baz and his crew tried cornering them, swarms of students cheering. After several unsuccessful minutes, Baz gave up and called off his crew.
“This ain’t over,” he promised. “Payback’s coming like a bitch outta hell.”
“Sebastian!” Hugo gasped, hands over his mouth. “What a terrible thing to call your mom.”
Baz turned brick-red. “I’ll kill you!”
Luckily, Simon and Hugo zigzagged through the crowd to escape. As the pair tore around the corner to safety, Hugo saw the five boys glaring after him. The silent, spiteful promise in their eyes was unmistakable. But Hugo, drunk off victory, didn’t care.
“Jesus,” Simon wheezed after they were a safe distance away. He bent over, gasping for air. “Still can’t believe you were ever friends with that asshat.”
Hugo, equally breathless from that mad dash, leaned against a wall. “Yeah. Puberty, sports, and aggro fathers make a terrible combo.” The five years back when he called Sebastian Martinez friend were a lifetime ago. Hugo no longer recognized the cruel bully hell-bent on tormenting him daily.
But Simon had been Hugo’s best friend since meeting in fifth grade. He had supported Hugo after Dad’s death, pulling him from a black hole of grief.
Simon…and Brie, Hugo reminded himself. During the darkest time of his life, he’d seen the beautiful soul behind Briseis’s occasionally aloof veneer. One of many reasons why Hugo always defended her.
The buzzing in his pocket was a welcome distraction. He pulled out his cellphone and gaped. Avngr App tracked any superhero fights within one’s vicinity. Since San Miguel was such a magnet for superhumans, Hugo had set his alerts to specific heroes. Details scrawled across the screen.
Titan and Lady Liberty vs. Killawatt and Armordillo. 12th and Hillcrest.
Hugo turned to Simon, also looking up from his own phone. “Seven blocks away.”
The Korean boy smiled. “Let’s go.” The two took off east as fast as possible. By the pedestrian traffic bolting in one direction, Hugo knew they were close. From blocks away, he heard the distant thunder of battle and the nearing buzz of a huge crowd.
One thing Hugo loved more than Brie, Simon or family was superheroes. One superhero especially.
He ran faster, passing Simon, fatigue forgotten.
Minutes later, Hugo and Simon turned a corner, running into a wall of spectators. A swath of destruction was already cordoned off by police, ruined pavement and a few buildings with holes punched through them. Damage notwithstanding, Simon and Hugo’s eyes homed in on the epic clash of gods.
“Holy mother of amazing!” the Samoan boy exclaimed.
Killawatt, a C-list supervillain with electric powers, was usually a lackey for smarter supervillains. But he always got defeated by one of San Miguel’s many superheroes or superhero teams. Currently, Killawatt was hoisted into the air and unconscious. His gaudy costume made him look like a sack of rainbow neon and thick cords crackling of electricity.
Shoulder-pressing him one-handed was Lady Liberty.
The crowd roared in approval. Hugo yelled with them, despite missing the fight. As long as bystanders kept a safe distance, superhero battles had become a spectator sport in San Miguel and its suburbs.
Lady Liberty was one superhero Hugo and Simon agreed on. A movie star’s allure combined with an Amazon warrior’s ferocity. Hugo couldn’t believe she’d been active over two decades. It was a testament to Lady Liberty’s face that he wasn't staring at her heartbreakingly long legs or melon-sized boobs. Her stunning face had graced magazine covers, TV interviews, and merchandise well before Hugo was alive. And she'd barely aged since her mid-90s debut.
Lady Liberty looked even more goddess-like hovering in the air, wearing her battle-ready grin. Wind tousled her flowing locks of brunette hair, even as a silver diadem with two spikes crowned her head. Liberty’s costume was form-fitting light armor colored in red and yellow gold, with golden knee-high boots. The only exposed parts of Lady Liberty’s costume were those impossibly shapely legs.
It made sense why so many guys nicknamed her “Lady Legs,” Hugo and Simon included.
With a wink and a smirk, Lady Liberty calmly tossed a defeated Killawatt over her shoulder. He landed with a hard thud on his upper back and didn’t rise. Hugo’s gaze followed Liberty as she flew to the battle between the second supervillain and her partner, one of the few heroes more popular than she.
The towering monstrosity covered in segmented copper armor was Armordillo. From what Hugo knew of him, the brutal powerhouse attacked by curling into a near unstoppable ball of destruction.
Armordillo kept trying to charge forward into his ball attack. His opponent wouldn’t let him, fighting close-quarters with lightning-fast jabs and hard uppercuts. Hugo beamed. Whenever he saw this superhero’s green costume with the golden T stretched across, Hugo knew victory was certain. The crowd chanted his name as he peppered Armordillo with punches so fast, his arms were blurs of motion.
“TITAN! TITAN! TITAN!” Hugo and Simon joined the chants.
Titan was a burly sculpture of peak masculinity. Armordillo had a foot and probably a hundred pounds on him. A solid punt from the armored giant knocked Titan to the ground. The second kick sent him skidding for several yards, tearing through more pavement. Didn’t matter. Hugo knew who the victor would be. So did Lady Liberty, hence why she didn’t intervene.
Titan dashed forth and tackled his larger foe, unloading another barrage of quick punches. The Central Coast Saint crouched low and exploded skyward with a savage uppercut, knocking
Armordillo airborne. Then the criminal tumbled for a quarter mile into a police barricade, out cold.
Compared to Lady Liberty’s victory, the crowd’s reaction was three times more thunderous.
Titan floated forward, his square-jawed face a stern mask. He dragged Armordilllo’s dented bulk from the police barricade, dropping him beside Killawatt for San Miguel PD.
Entranced as Hugo was by Brie, his Titan worship knew no equal. His first memory at age three had been meeting the Central Coast Saint. Since then, Hugo had been a diehard Titan-iac, meeting him five different times at public appearances. Hugo knew about the superhero's tragic origin inside out. A 1991 nuclear attack that obliterated northernmost Alaska had given him extraordinary powers. He knew all Titan’s archenemies and iconic battles since becoming active. Titan had given him strength during last year’s darkest times. Hugo’s dream was to grow up and be like Titan.
Except he was a skinny-fat teenager and only five-foot-seven inches with no powers. Not exactly a prime superhero candidate. A kid can dream, he'd tell himself.
Armordillo and Killawatt were defeated. Titan floated overhead like a god judging his followers. Everyone screamed his praises, snapping photos, worshipping his presence.
“Titan!” Hugo shouted at the top of his lungs to grab his idol’s attention. He stood a few feet away. “Over here! Titan, it’s me, Hugo. I—”
Titan whispered to Lady Liberty with a sweeping hand gesture at the felled criminals. She nodded, landing beside Killawatt’s and Armordilllo’s bodies as San Miguel PD moved in to cuff them.
Titan then looked up and hurtled skyward, much to the crowd’s disappointment.
Hugo watched his favorite hero shrink into a dot in the sky and fly north, his exit marked by a sonic boom. Titan not signing autographs post-battle was odd and had occurred a lot recently. His unsmiling look when facing the crowds also troubled Hugo. That didn’t negate how cool watching Titan fly away was.
“That never gets old,” Hugo murmured.
“Not even a little,” Simon agreed.
Chapter 3
Midwestern summer humidity was thick and smothering. Add the late afternoon sun roasting the basketball court and all eight players were completely drenched.