Accidental Awakening

by Damien Benoit-Ledoux

  When he felt relaxed, he dumped the tea into the sink and tossed the cup into the trash. Then he looked at the thirty-something guy, who watched him with intense curiosity.

  “Uh, sorry,” Quinn said. “There was a…hornet in the cup…I didn’t see it earlier.”

  The man’s eyes widened and he nodded. “Thanks for catching that.”

  Quinn remade the green tea and this time the water didn't boil. When handed over the tea and returned the man’s change, he looked around for Keegan.

  Quinn’s shoulders dropped. Keegan was already heading out of the shop with his beverage.

  If you don't try to say hi to him, you'll lose your chance. Talking to him here is way better than at school.

  “I'll be right back,” Quinn called out to Matt, his manager.

  “Uh, okay?” Matt answered. “We’re really busy, make it quick.”

  In a flash, Quinn dashed to the backside of the coffee shop and jogged around some unpacked boxes to the employee and delivery entrance. For a moment, the usually busy Daniel Street was quiet. Quinn looked left and right for Keegan but didn't see him.

  He must be in the public square out front.

  Quinn turned left to run to the square but stopped, thinking his mind had played a trick on him. He turned around and looked up Daniel Street again, remembering how clearly he had seen the spider in his bedroom. An expensive red car with a throaty engine was speeding toward the stop sign at the square behind him. Between him and the car, the frazzled mother and her young son were crossing the street, except the toddler had dropped his bouncy ball and had wrenched his hand free to chase after it—directly in the path of the oblivious speed demon.

  The mother screamed and stepped forward, but when the oncoming car didn't slow down, she hesitated. People turned their heads and gasped as the horrific finality of the impending accident flashed in their minds.

  “My baby!” she cried out, deciding to try and save her son as the seconds ticked. Quinn looked —with his newfound enhanced vision—at the driver of the car and clearly saw he was distracted, either texting on his phone or tinkering with the car’s radio.

  Oh my gosh, they're both going to die…

  “No!” Quinn shouted at the last second. He closed his eyes, feeling the power surge behind them. He didn’t want anyone to see them glow blue and he didn’t want to watch the mother or her son splatter over the hood of the car.

  Bang!

  Pop!

  Screams!

  Crunch!

  Slam!

  Silence.

  “Oh, thank goodness!” a man exclaimed.

  What?

  Quinn opened his eyes, shielding them from onlookers, as the joyful sobbing of a mother and the confused crying of a startled toddler reached his ears.

  “What happened to the car?” another woman asked.

  Quinn looked at the car. Oh no.

  The entire front was smashed in like it had struck an invisible cement wall. The hood was folded like an accordion and Quinn’s enhanced vision showed him the detail of every crack in the shattered windshield. He noticed the airbags had deployed as the crumpled driver door creaked opened and a man staggered out, clutching his phone with one hand.

  “You’re a real jerk,” a woman shouted, “texting and driving like that. You could have killed that little boy.”

  Quinn leaned against the cool brick, stunned at what he had seen. He felt the blood drain from his head and he blinked his eyes to focus. Thankfully, they had powered down.

  I think I just stopped that car.

  A police cruiser turned right onto Daniel Street from Chapel Street and pulled up, its blue lights flashing. People stepped out of the local businesses to gawk. Quinn touched his head, shock dulling the powerful sense of proximity to Blake. He had stepped out of Kaffee VonSolln to gawk, but now, Quinn knew, Blake walked toward him. Quinn stepped forward and looked around the bank sign and caught Blake’s eye. His friend waved at him and started jogging toward him and Quinn took a few shaky steps but slumped to the ground, unable to stand up.

  Blake picked up his pace and approached. “Hey, Quinn, are you all right?” Blake asked, squatting near him.

  Quinn shook his head and took a deep breath. “No.” His voice wavered and his hands began shaking.

  “Hey, buddy, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” Blake said, sitting down and wrapping his left arm around Quinn’s shoulders. “The kid didn’t get hit. I don’t know how, but…” Blake paused.

  “Wait, did you…” His mouth dropped open and his eyes opened wide.

  “I could have killed that driver,” Quinn whispered.

  “You stopped the car, didn’t you?”

  “I don’t know,” Quinn said, still shaking.

  “Tell me what you did, Quinn. How did you stop it?”

  Quinn shrugged. “I saw him texting or something; he wasn’t looking at the road. I just closed my eyes because I didn’t want to see the kid get hit and shouted ‘No.’ Then I heard the car slam into…thin air.”

  “You saved that kid’s life, and probably his mother’s, as well.”

  “But I almost killed that driver. I don’t want this…thing any more. I want it gone. It’s too much. I made water boil in my hands earlier when Keegan came into the shop and now I almost killed someone. I want a normal junior year and I want to go to UNH in two years…but this thing…I can’t, I just can’t.”

  “Hey, slow down, buddy. One day at a time."

  “You don’t get it,” Quinn said. “Things aren’t happening as fast for you. When I least expect it something unexpected happens. Today my hearing and vision are like, on overdrive, and I almost burned the damn coffee shop down and I stopped a speeding car with my mind. I can’t do this!”

  Quinn buried his head in his hands and broke down. Blake pulled him in, allowing Quinn to lean into his chest and weep for several minutes.

  “So, you saw Keegan today, huh?” Blake said. Quinn noted the soft tone in his voice; he was trying to distract him from the crisis.

  Quinn chuckled and sniffled. “Yeah, he’s the entire reason I was out here. I tried to serve him but Cassie beat me to it. I figured I’d run out and try to say hi, but this happened. That mother and her kid were in the shop a few minutes ago.”

  “If you hadn’t tried to catch up with Keegan, that kid wouldn’t be alive right now and his mother would be on her way to the hospital and the news reports would be horrible.”

  “But I…”

  “It doesn’t matter what you almost did. The driver is walking after you did whatever you did. That’s the most important part. As for his wrecked car, he deserved that for doing something as stupid as texting and driving.”

  “I guess so.”

  “I know so.”

  “All right, all right. Shit, I gotta get back inside. Matt’s gonna kill me.”

  “Sure, but first, I wish someone had a camera.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Think about it. This is an ironic, picturesque moment.” Quinn said. “A VonSolln guy is consoling a BNG guy.”

  Quinn rolled his eyes and laughed as the boys stood up.

  “You okay?” Blake asked, looking into his eyes.

  “Yeah,” Quinn said, returning the tender gaze. “Thanks.”

  Blake winked at him. “Talk to you later.”

  “For sure.”

  ❖

  Quinn hung his bike in the garage on the wall hooks and tapped the white garage door button on his way into the house. The garage door rumbled shut behind him as he made his way into the house, the sound fading when the inside door shut. He kicked off his coffee-stained work shoes and set them on the mud mat before making his way down the hall to the kitchen.

  “Hey,” Dad said, washing dishes at the counter. He shot Quinn a quick glance. “Dinner’s almost ready. We’re grilling veggies and steak tips tonight. Well, Daddio is, not me. My job, of course, is cleaning the dishes and making sure the jasmine rice simmers nicely without boil
ing over.

  Quinn chuckled. “Sounds good, I’m starved.” The last time Dad tried to grill steak tips, he burnt them and the trio ordered pizza instead.

  “Hey, kiddo,” Daddio said, walking in from the outside where the deck and barbecue grill were kept. He walked over to Quinn and hugged him, gently kissing him on the head. “You stink like coffee,” he teased.

  “Yeah, I need a quick shower. Do I have time?”

  Daddio checked his watch. “You have nineteen minutes. The tips just went on the grill.”

  “Oh hey,” Dad said, gesturing like he was remembering something. “There was an accident on Daniel Street today. Did you see it at all?”

  “Yeah,” Quinn said, unable to hide his sorrow at the event. He froze in place and swallowed hard. What do I say?

  “You okay?” Dad asked, stepping away from the sink. Daddio put his arm around Quinn’s shoulders.

  “I was standing outside when it happened…I almost saw toddler get creamed by an asshole in a sports car who wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Oh my gosh,” Daddio said, squeezing Quinn’s shoulders. “That’s horrible!”

  “Oh, Quinn,” Dad said, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  “Almost see it,” Quinn said, correcting his father.

  “The news said the car was smashed and no one was hurt, except for some airbag burns and bruises for the driver.”

  Quinn nodded.

  “How did the car get smashed up?”

  How am I going to explain my way out of this one? Oh, I know!

  “Well,” Quinn said, looking at the floor. “My timing was a bit off. I wasn’t outside when it happened, I was in the stock room unpacking a shipment. When I heard a car hit something, I poked my head out the side door to see what was going on. That’s when I saw a woman who had just been at the register grabbing her kid from the street. I don’t know what the car hit, but it was pretty smashed up. The driver got out and was walking around, so I guess that’s good.”

  “Absolutely. It’s great no one got hurt today,” Dad said.

  “Still, that little kid was probably three years old. Maybe four. He almost died.”

  “But he didn’t, and neither did the driver, right?” Daddio asked.

  Quinn shrugged. “I know you’re right, it’s still shocking to me, that’s all.”

  Daddio’s watch beeped, startling them all. “Sorry to ruin the moment, but I gotta go rotate the steak tips.”

  Quinn chuckled. “Please do, the last thing we want is burnt steak, right?” he asked, gently teasing his other father.

  Dad rolled his eyes and smiled. “Sure, pick on the guy who can barely boil water. I get it.”

  “Love ya, kiddo,” Daddio said, giving him another kiss. “Now go shower and rinse the super-stink of work off you. You got less than fifteen minutes, okay?”

  “And Quinn?” Daddio said, heading toward the door.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for talking with us.”

  Quinn smiled. “Sure thing.”

  Then he headed upstairs to shower.

  ❖

  Quinn flipped through an old Superman comic book and tried to focus on the words, but they remained elusive to his distracted mind.

  Am I ever going to understand how this thing works? What happens when I have a choice to use my powers for good and I don’t because I’m afraid? Will that make me a bad person?

  “Hey Quinn?” Daddio called out, standing in the hallway on the other side of his cracked-open bedroom door.

  Surprised, Quinn jumped halfway across the bed.

  “Oh, hey, sorry son, didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Something odd caught his eye in the dresser mirror. Rather, something didn’t catch his eye—his reflection. Oh crap, am I invisible?

  “Are you okay?”

  The door started to push open and Quinn rolled off the bed and onto the floor on the far side of the bed, opposite the bedroom door. He pulled off his tank top as fast as he could and started to do push-ups.

  Oh shit, come on, go back to normal!

  “Yup,” he called out, exaggerating his labor. The door creaked open more. “Am I bothering you?”

  “Nope,” he exclaimed.

  “Where are you? What are you doing?”

  Please, please go back to normal.

  Quinn popped up and ran a hand through is hair. Daddio locked eyes with him and smiled. “You’re working out?”

  “Yeah, just had some frustrations to burn so I’m doing some push-ups.” I guess I’m not invisible any more.

  “Ah.”

  “We’re gonna grab some ice cream downtown, did you want to come with?”

  “Yeah,” he said, reaching for his tank top.

  Daddio sat down on the edge of his bed.

  Uh oh.

  “You’re sure you’re all right?”

  “Yeah, why?” Quinn said, pulling on his shirt and standing up.

  Daddio’s brow wrinkled. “You’re just…off tonight. That accident today, almost seeing a child die…”

  “Yeah, it’s messed me up a little.”

  “Okay, fair enough. You know you can talk to us about that, right?”

  “Of course, Daddio,” Quinn said, running a hand through his hair again.

  “Or anything else you want to talk about. We love you for who you are, no matter what.”

  “Yeah,” Quinn said, his face scrunching with confusion.

  “Like anything else, Quinn,” Daddio repeated.

  “Did you have something in mind?”

  “Yeah. Dad told me about this morning. You know we don’t care about that, right?”

  Quinn’s eyes bulged open. “Oh, right. That. Yeah, I know. Thanks.”

  “Okay then.” Daddio pushed himself up from the bed. “Well, shall we? Ice cream awaits.”

  “Annabelle’s or Izzy’s?” Quinn asked, following his father out the door.

  “Tough call,” Daddio chuckled. “Thumb wrestle you for it?”

  “Sure thing. But Dad has to judge it because you cheat,” Quinn teased.

  Daddio clutched his chest and dropped his mouth open with surprise. “I do not!”

  “Uh-huh, whatever, Daddio,” Quinn said. The two laughed as they made their way downstairs to get Dad from the living room and head out for ice cream.

  11 | No Thank You

  Blake

  THE EARLY MORNING COFFEE SHIFT never appealed to Blake, especially on weekends when all he wanted to do was sleep in till ten o’clock or later. He couldn’t understand how or why people got up so early on weekends, except the retired folk. They tended to get up early no matter what, along with a bunch of folks who were crazy enough to run or exercise at one of the local gyms first thing in the morning—and most of them needed their coffee fix.

  Still, he couldn’t complain—Quinn always had to be up earlier because BNG opened at six-thirty. Kaffee VonSolln opened at eight o’clock, but the morning baristas need to be at the shop at least thirty minutes prior to opening to set up. That didn’t stop the diehards from lining up for their coffee.

  Today though, he did not mind getting up early and getting out of the house. Last night, his parents had gone to one of the local legion bars and his father had imbibed far too many drinks and barely made it home. Other patrons had to help put his drunk father into the car so his mother could unsafely drive them home. When she got home, she woke Blake up and asked him to help bring his father inside because he had passed out. Blake carried his unconscious father into the house, where he dropped him into his favorite recliner. His mother apologized profusely but Blake shrugged it off, telling her it didn't matter because she enabled him.

  As he pedaled to work, his mind drifted away from his drunken father back to his late-night texts with Quinn, who still struggled with the mystery of their developing super powers. Blake felt envious of his buddy’s more obvious and seemingly easier powers but kept his mouth shut.

  If I had those powers, I'd f
ix Darien for good and make sure bullies like him stop picking on the little guys. Who knows, maybe it would be cool to be closet superheroes. Or, better yet, what could I gain by taking things from others? Quinn’s had it easy, but I've had to scrape along and find my way. It isn't fair. Maybe it’s time I exploit others to get ahead the way they’ve exploited me.

  Blake absentmindedly aimed his bike for a puddle and sighed.

  If only I could figure out…

  Ka-thunk!

  The front tire of Blake’s bike dropped down into the puddle and abruptly stopped spinning. The back wheel came off the ground and proceeded to rotate upward over the front axle, causing Blake to endo, or flip over the handlebars and crash.

  Shit!

  Blake saw the ground coming at him and he closed his eyes and placed his hands in front of him.

  This is gonna hurt.

  But there was no pain. Blake peeled open an eye and saw the ground several inches beneath his body.

  What the heck? Am I floating?

  A split second later, Blake’s body descended to the ground and he grunted. “Oh man,” Blake said. Then he realized he spoke out loud. He looked around, but there were no signs of life around him and he didn’t think anyone heard his bike crash to the pavement. He pushed himself off the ground and picked up his bike. Since he hadn’t hit the ground, he wasn’t sore or in pain. He checked the front tire, which miraculously had not punctured. The wheel’s rim and spokes didn’t seem damaged, but his front wheel-to-handlebar alignment was off a few degrees.

  He pulled out his phone and texted Quinn: Need to talk to you after work - something new.

  He pocketed his phone and looked around again. He still didn’t see anyone. He shrugged, mounted his bike, and pedaled to the shop.

  ❖

  Blake pedaled through Strawberry Banke to Prescott Park. He crossed the grassy park and scanned the three public piers for Quinn, spotting him and his bike on the pier closest to the Memorial Bridge. He shook his head when the overwhelming sense of proximity to Quinn echoed in his mind. The sensing thing seemed easier to handle today.

  The Piscataqua River rushed beneath his feet as he walked his bike to the lookout where Quinn, shirtless, was getting some sun while watching the Moran tugboats guide a large cargo ship to the waterway under the raised drawbridge. Quinn glanced over his shoulder when he heard Blake approaching.