Accidental Awakening

by Damien Benoit-Ledoux

  “Sounds like every school shooting, to be honest. No one knows why the kid did it because no one was paying attention.”

  “You’re getting deep,” Quinn said, chuckling.

  “No, I’m getting real.”

  “Uh-huh. So, how was your morning?”

  Blake shrugged. “The usual, I guess. My dad was already up and out of the house when I got up, and my mom was still in bed, probably pissed off or passed out from last night or something. They got in some big fight about the grocery bill and I just…I tuned it out.”

  “Did they drink a lot again?” Quinn asked.

  “Who knows. I didn’t think about it when I picked up the empty beer cans from the living room carpet and the kitchen counter. Beer reeks when it’s been sitting around all night.”

  “Oh,” Quinn said. It wasn’t a smell he was familiar with.

  “Did you eat some breakfast?”

  “Yeah, Pop-Tarts, the breakfast of champions.”

  “Better than nothing, I guess.”

  “If you say so. I can’t wait to be out of there in two years and living on campus. It’s time for a change, time to move on, time for bigger and better things for Blake.”

  “Hey boys,” Ravone Timber called out from a bench. “Come and sit a spell before hell.”

  “O.M.G., gurl, love your hair,” Quinn said the minute his eyes set upon the red streak she had added to her normally brown hair. It matched the red leather jacket she wore over a white T-shirt and a well-fitted black skirt.

  “Thank you, hot stuff. Love your outfit. And Blake…” Ravone said, eyeing Blake’s standard outfit of blue jeans, faded dark blue converse sneakers, and a T-shirt. “Roguishly handsome as usual.”

  “I try not to disappoint,” he said, smiling. “The red streak in your hair is badass.”

  “What about me, you guys?” Loren Davis asked. He wore red converse sneakers with black and white horizontal striped leggings that disappeared under a black leather skirt. On top, she wore a gray T-shirt with the words “Rock on, Queer.”

  Loren self-identified as genderqueer and used both he and she pronouns, thoroughly confusing the quaint folk of Portsmouth, an accepting east-coast city—but it was no Los Angeles.

  “Tramp,” Blake said.

  “Slut,” Quinn added.

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Loren said, smiling.

  “Seriously, your outfit is fierce today,” Quinn said. “I’m not sure I could pull it off.”

  “Don’t,” Loren said abruptly.

  “Oh, okay,” Quinn said, startled.

  “It’s my look and you can’t have it,” Loren added, winking at Quinn, who smiled.

  “There goes Professor Xavier,” Ravone said, nodding toward one of the teachers entering the building. Professor Xavier and Mr. Spock were two of the affectionate nicknames the students bestowed upon Mr. St. Germain, the high-school’s nerdiest science teacher. His penchant for all-things science fiction came up often in class, and the students knew he could be easily pulled off-topic with questions about the comic universes, Star Wars, Star Trek, and anything else both nerdy and geeky.

  “Here comes your boy, shirtless as usual.” Blake said, gently punching Quinn in the shoulder.

  Quinn felt the blood rush to his face as he nervously swatted Blake’s hand away. “Stop it, B.”

  “Aw, you’re blushing,” Ravone said.

  “Too cute,” Loren added.

  “Guys, stop it,” Quinn said, losing focus of everything around him as a shirtless Keegan Miller rolled closer on his longboard. That day, Keegan wore black sunglasses and wireless headphones on his head over his dirty-blond hair, a white and blue-striped button-down shirt tied around his waist over black shorts, and dark gray skateboarding sneakers. He carried his backpack in his right hand. His tight abs flexed with every dip and push he made to propel himself forward.

  “Are you gonna say something?” Ravone asked.

  “He better,” Blake said.

  “Give him space, guys,” Loren said. “But you better say something, just saying.”

  Twenty feet…fifteen feet…ten feet…

  “Hi Keegan,” Quinn called out, his voice sounding a little higher than he liked. Keegan looked over briefly and nodded, barely raising a few fingers to wave as he whizzed by.

  “Ouch,” Blake said softly.

  Quinn took a deep breath and sighed. His beautiful crush had once again passed him by. Nothing had changed over the summer, and Keegan, who was proudly out of the closet, hadn’t shown any interest in dating anyone yet. Quinn hoped to change that, but as they started junior year, his time was running out; someone else might snag Keegan’s heart first.

  The first bell rang out, alerting the students it was time to come in. Near the school’s entrance, Keegan pulled on his shirt, picked up his longboard, and ran into the building.

  “Okay, let’s go,” Loren said. “There are things to accomplish before the 3:20 bell.”

  “Like what?” Ravone quipped.

  “Learning,” Loren said, drawing out the word. The group of friends began walking to the covered entrance of the school.

  “And track practice,” Quinn added.

  “Well, for you guys. When school’s out, I’m outta here for three days. Aren’t you two going camping this weekend?” Loren asked.

  “Yup,” Quinn and Blake answered simultaneously.

  “Well, if I don’t see you later, have fun.”

  “We plan to,” Quinn said, eyeing Blake.

  His best friend smiled and nodded to him. “Yeah, it will be great to get away for a few days.”

  3 | Bullies and Distractions

  MY NAME IS BLAKE HARGREAVES—known to the world as Dark Flame—a stupid name I absolutely hate. It’s so friggin’ pretentious. I loathe Hargreaves as well because my parents hate each other, and I’m stuck in the middle of their bullshit, forced to listen to them scream and yell at each other well into the night. Sometimes, I think they’re just waiting for me to graduate high school before breaking up and getting a divorce. I wish they’d get it over with because it’s not fun for me.

  Money’s tight and though I work at one of the downtown coffee shops, I have to buy my own…everything. My parents rarely supply me with new clothes and in the last two years I grew a lot. I needed new shoes, underwear, pants, shirts…I had to pay for it all. Sometimes, Quinn McAlester, my best friend, chips in to help me or his dads buy me stuff when they think I need it, but I hate taking their charity and their pity. However, I do love his family. Their home is peaceful, serene, and his dads are awesome together, if not a little too in love, if you catch my drift.

  Oh, it’s Quinn, by the way, who asked me to contribute to his little documentary project. So, I’m only doing this for him.

  Still…

  Quinn is really lucky and it’s hard not to be jealous of what he has. I just wish my mom and dad would…well, I already said it.

  Quinn and I run track together at school and we’re gonna graduate from Portsmouth High in two years. We’ve talked about attending the same college, but we haven’t really started looking yet. I don’t know if we’re going to be roommates or not, but I think it would be fun.

  At least I did, before everything changed.

  A while back, while camping with Quinn, my life changed forever. Our lives, I should say, since the thing happened to both of us. Mr. St. Germain, our nerdy science teacher, helped us figure out what happened when we decided to tell someone about the weird stuff that was happening to us.

  Quinn loved it.

  He had…and has…all these crazy ideas about helping and saving people, like he’s going to become the next Superman or Invincible comic book hero. But in reality, people freak about this crap because they don’t get it. To quote Carmine Falcone in Batman Begins, “You always fear what you don’t understand.”

  Of course, Quinn’s powers developed faster than mine, and they’re different. I can’t do all the things he can do yet, b
ut some of the things I can do, I can do more powerfully than I let on. I don’t think Quinn trusts me fully with our powers, and I resent him for thinking I’m less than capable of dealing with this. I think that’s why he insists we do the superhero crap.

  I don’t mind helping him, but…I have my limits. If we get caught, our lives will irrevocably (today’s vocabulary word challenge from English class) change forever. Our dreams—whatever they are—will be taken away from us by a bunch of pricks who will want to dissect us and figure out why we’re so…uniquely powerful. I try to bring reason to his optimism, but I’m not succeeding. I fear he’s gonna do more than just come out of the closet for being gay, he’s gonna come out to the world as a Marvel class-five super freak.

  I need to stop that from happening—no matter the cost—even if it means hurting my best friend.

  ❖

  Blake

  Blake shifted in his seat during the last period of the day, which for him was English Lit, his best friend’s favorite subject. The teacher had just finished handing out the reading list for the semester, which sucked. All of it sucked, and Blake didn’t care. He desperately needed a change and a break from all of the bullshit in his family life.

  “Mister Hargreaves?”

  “What?” Blake said, startled.

  “Are you with us, young man?” Mrs. White, his English Literature teacher, asked.

  “Yeah, sorry.” He hated when teachers caught him daydreaming, but sometimes they droned on and on and his own worries crept out from the shadows of his mind.

  “Perhaps you’d like to share with the class what’s so much more inter…”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” Blake snapped, making direct eye contact with Mrs. White. It was a bold move that could have been mistaken as threatening, but Blake gambled Mrs. White looked forward to the 3:20 bell as much as he did—although Blake would be able to take out his frustrations on the running track or the Portsmouth Pavement.

  “All right then. Let’s continue with the reading assignments, shall we?” Mrs. White said.

  ❖

  Thirty minutes later, Blake had walked into the locker room to change into running shorts and a tank top with most of the team. The guys around him joked about this and that, but most were upset the coaches didn’t cancel any of the practices before the long weekend.

  Quinn rushed in and squeezed into the space between Blake and the next guy over. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Just glad the day’s over, you know?”

  “Ugh, I know what you mean. I can’t believe they gave us homework over the weekend. That's so obnoxious.”

  “I only got math and social studies homework.”

  “Yeah, but still.”

  ❖

  Blake, Quinn, Darien and the rest of the track team ambled onto the track field where Coach Tomlin was waiting for them.

  “There are only two ways off this field, maggots. A pine box, or a school bus,” Coach Tomlin yelled. “The choice is yours.”

  Coach Tomlin, a man with a slightly hunched stature and a small gut, wore beige khaki shorts that sat too high on his waist and a maroon, tucked-in Portsmouth High polo shirt. His pale legs disappeared into maroon crew socks and gray sneakers. White curls of hair spilled out from underneath the blue and yellow U. S. Navy ball cap he wore. As white as the Coach’s hair seemed to be, dark gray fuzzy eyebrows hovered over the auto-tinting sunglasses that rested on the bridge of his nose.

  “I know it’s almost the weekend, but we can’t stop. I need to make sure you’re all fit as fiddles for next week’s races. So, get stretching, and in about fifteen minutes you’re all going to run the New Castle loop.”

  The boys groaned because the New Castle loop meant a nearly ten-mile run around Portsmouth through New Castle Island and then back to the high school. Most of the boys would run it in about seventy minutes while others would take ninety minutes. Quinn started stretching and quickly texted his dad that he would not be free until five-thirty that night.

  “What are you doing?” Blake asked, looking at Quinn as he played with his phone.

  “Texting my dad,” Quinn said, “I need to let him know when to pick me up. Do you want him to pick you up as well?”

  “Sure,” Blake said, “that would be great. Would it be okay to sleep over your house tonight? I don’t really want to be around my family if I don’t have to right now. Even though it’s Friday and I probably won’t see them because they’ll drink themselves into oblivion, I just…”

  “Of course,” Quinn said. “Are you packed?”

  “Yeah,” Blake said, “I did most of it last night. I just need to grab my bags and my sleeping bag. We’re using your air mattress this time, right?”

  “Yep,” Quinn answered.

  “Great. It’s more comfortable than mine.”

  “Alright you maggots!” The retired navy-officer-turned-coach yelled, “Enough stretching, head on out! See you back in seventy minutes.”

  The boys groaned again, but they dutifully started running away from the school, their captain leading them on the run.

  “I’m glad we don’t have to get up early tomorrow.” Blake said as he started running alongside Quinn.

  “Well, that’s not true. We have to leave the house by six, so…”

  “Yeah, but I meant, we don’t have to go to school tomorrow. My legs are going to be so sore in the morning.”

  “Gotcha.”

  The heat and humidity of the late summer sun bore down on the track team as they ran across the narrow roads and bridges that carried them onto New Castle Island. Most of the boys had pulled off their shirts and tucked them into the waistband of their running shorts. Sweat poured down Blake’s face and torso as they rounded the tight curves of New Castle Island, narrowly dodging cars that slowed down to accommodate the entire Portsmouth High School boy’s track team. At about the halfway point, they passed the girl’s track team, running in the opposite direction. They waved and high-fived each other and continued on toward the school.

  When they got back to the athletic fields, most of the guys collapsed onto the soft grass of the football field that was inside the running track. Coach Tomlin had set up Gatorade stations while they were out, and the boys eagerly sucked down as much Gatorade as they could to replenish their dehydrated bodies.

  Most of the guys stretched, and Blake was no exception. As he sat on the grass watching the late guys return to the field, he saw Darien, Kyle, and Tony eyeing Quinn. Then, Darien walked over to Quinn and said something that made Quinn turn away in disgust. He watched Darien push Quinn, who spun around, slapping Darien’s hand away from his body. Some of the other guys began to notice the commotion and soon all eyes were watching Darien and Quinn.

  Blake stood up and walked over. When he got close enough he could hear Darien teasing Quinn. When the word faggot came out of Darien’s mouth, Blake’s hands balled into fists and he angrily stormed up to Darien.

  “What did I just hear you say?” Blake shouted, “Did you just call him a faggot?”

  “I did, and what of it?” Darien asked, stepping back only to step forward again to correct his awkward flinch. “He is, you know.” A wicked smile came across Darien’s face. “I bet you’d know, given you’re his best friend and all. Or maybe you’re more than just best friends, huh Blake?” Darien asked, jeering at him while Kyle and Tony snickered behind them.

  You son-of-a-bitch.

  “You don’t know that,” Blake said, “And it’s none of your damn business how close of friends we are.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a denial,” Darien said.

  “Who cares what it sounds like,” Blake spat back, his anger boiling inside him. “Nobody cares about that shit anymore. Why should you?”

  “No,” Darien said. “That’s not how it works. People do care about being around faggots like Quinn, and maybe you.”

  Some of the guys behind Blake started shaking their heads. A few of them started saying, “Knock it off,” or
“Back off, Darien.” It was clear the team was split. Well, more than split. Only Darien and three of his friends shared the particularly hateful viewpoint.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Blake saw Coach Tomlin approach, his face firm and telling that he knew a fight was about to break out. “You need to knock it off and back down,” Blake said. “You have no right to treat him like shit.”

  “I have every right and I don’t need riffraff like you telling me what I should and shouldn’t do,” Darien spat.

  Blake stepped back and cocked his right arm back, his hand tightening into a fist, ready to strike.

  “Do it,” Darien said, taunting him.

  “Blake!” The coach yelled. “Think about your choices.” Blake lowered his hand and took a deep breath. Then bared his teeth, twisted his face with rage, and let loose a primal roar at Darien as his body tensed and his fingers curled into claw-like shapes.

  Darien’s eyes widened, and he stepped back in fear. “Holy shit,” he said. “Easy man, easy.”

  “Fuck off,” Blake screamed.

  “That’s enough, Blake, “Coach Tomlin said sternly. “Darien, take your friends and go shower. Get out of here. When you come back next week, I don’t want to hear another word of this, is that clear?”

  “Yes, Coach,” Darien said, his fingers crossed behind his back.

  Blake rolled his eyes in disgust.

  “I dealt with this kind of crap in the navy when I was on a battleship. I don’t want to deal with this crap in a high school, is that understood? If I hear this kind of foulness from that feculent cesspool of a mouth you have, you’re off the team, permanently.”

  “Yes, Coach,” Darien said, looking at him funny. Then he turned and walked toward the locker rooms with his friends.

  Blake smirked. Coach had a way of mixing in unexpected and strange navy jargon—they assumed—with normal, everyday speech.

  “All of you, listen up,” Coach Tomlin barked, addressing the track team. He put his hands on his waist as the team turned to listen. Then, he pointed as he spoke. “None of you should have to deal with Darien’s horse shit. I don’t care if any of you are gay, so no one on this team says another word about another teammate liking boys, girls, or both. You all have the same damn hormones running through your bodies, so you're all dealing with similar stuff. Sure, the circumstances will be different for some of you, but puberty in high school is like being on his team. You're all in this together and you all help each other win, so cut the crap and grow up a little. Is that clear?” Coach asked. He returned his hands to his waist.