The classroom hums with the restless energy of eager teenagers. Pens tap against desks. Feet jitter on the tile. The clock ticks down the final seconds. Three, two, one: ring. The bell frees us, and I bolt for the hallway, zigzagging through crowds of other students, and racing toward my locker.
Passing section after section, noticing this year more than others that the hallways are adorned with the school colors, red with orange trim, and a plethora of Titan Legion swag. Every hallway is littered with it. It’s become the indomitable spirit of most high schools to have a worship-like status with the Titan Legion. They are worshipped even more than the football team, whose players run the school short of taking the teacher''s paychecks.
Funny how most of those guys who don’t move on to sports careers end up with the Titan Legion. “Welcome to Aurora Heights High School, home of the Whirling Devils” is plastered in every conceivable portion of the school ad nauseam.
"Hey Hunter, what''s the rush? Need a hand?" Mason shouts at me from down the hall.
Damnit, I thought I could beat him here.
I’m not sure which time is worse; when he uses his fists to get his point across or his fire to burn my dignity away. Peering over my shoulder, he lets sparks with flames flicker from his fingertips. Standing at a hefty six foot two, the guy has at least three inches on me. The biggest difference is his physique, being the star quarterback he’s built like a damn brick wall. I’m more of the lanky, gangly, built as sturdy as a bundle of sticks tied together variety.
Mason gestures his fingers in my direction sending a volley of quarter-sized fireballs at my feet. The temperature rises in my shoes. Stumbling to the ground attempting to put out the fire, the neanderthal laughs at me. After a few seconds of flailing on the floor, there’s a rush of cold on my feet and the burning sensation dissipates. The miniature blizzard I’m witnessing begins to abate quickly. Looking up my eyes lock with Ashley, Mason''s ex-girlfriend, and the secret love of my life.
"You''re such a jerk Mason," she yells at him. Mason chuckles with his trademark sneer that makes me want to piledrive his face into a stack of broken glass.
"It''s too much fun. They take it like a target dummy," Mason says as his buddies laugh and tug at his team’s football jacket.
Ashley holds out her hand and I take it, pulling myself up and brushing my shoes off from the burnt strings. No major damage, except to my pride.
She’s wearing her trademark sundress and cowboy boots which gives the impression she’s only a few inches shorter than me. She has that Southern Belle charm mixed in with the right amount of city to not make it her whole identity. Her look is quite the contrast to her powers. I feel maybe her mark developed out of a need to contradict Mason’s, seeing as how he’s such an ill-tempered and hot-headed douchebag.
"This is why I broke up with you. You say idiotic shit like that. You know they have nowhere near your power; he doesn''t even have his powers yet,” Ashley yells at him.
Even if I did, it probably wouldn''t be high enough to make a difference anyway.
Mason continues to laugh mumbling something incoherent and walks away with his other jock buddies.
"Thanks," I say to Ashley. It''s bad enough to deal with him, now I need to be rescued by a girl. I don’t have the body for the damsel-in-distress trope.
"Darlin, don''t worry about him. He won''t be here for much longer. You know the Titan Legion will come for him.”
Working up the nerve to look at her, "Yeah, and god help us all when that happens. He would probably light them on fire instead of the enemy because he would think it''s funny.”
She lets out a small snort. "Always quick with the humor, Hunter," she says, handing me the textbook I dropped earlier.
Brushing off my clothes and straightening up against the locker, a smirk forms on the edge of my lips, "Yeah that''s me, the comedian. Maybe I''ll get the power of comedy and make people laugh to death.”
“You know, if you stand up to him it might make him stop. Bullies like him get encouraged when you don’t do anything,” Ashley says pointing out the obvious.
“The guy is bigger than most boxers. What do you expect me to do? He’d put me in the hospital if I ever did anything. And his parents would make my mom pay the bill for hurting his hand after beating my face into pudding,” I retort.
“You need to think more highly of yourself. He’s not that much bigger than you. I can tell you’re no slouch either,” Ashley says giving me a weird up-and-down scan. I can’t figure out why.
“Well, I’m more of a lover, not a fighter. It’s been mostly a solo career though,” I say in obvious self-deprecation because I can’t handle any form of compliment.
Ashley chuckles at my musing but doesn’t respond.
“Anyways, thanks for the help, I need to get home before my mom freaks out again because I''m two minutes behind schedule.”
Ashley grabs my wrist and forcefully makes me walk with her before she even speaks.
"Hey sugar, no problem, I''ll give you a ride so you don''t waste time on the buses, should make it home in plenty of time then.”
I don''t want to decline because her forcing me to come along is working up toward many fantasies I had growing up about her, even though I know it''s not going there. And why does her grip feel like it could crush steel?
"All right, all right," I say, "you don''t have to pull my arm out of my socket.”
She tilts her chin up and wrinkles her nose. “Sorry, Hun. Didn’t mean to hurt you,” she says, and I swear there’s a smirk in her voice.
Okay, I have officially entered the twilight zone. Mason must have barbecued me in the hallway and now I''m dead. I go along with it, maybe I hit my head on the way down and I’m reading too far into this.
The ride home is awkward, at least for me. My crush on Ashley, which I’ve had for years, is giving me mixed signals. This is more contact with her in one day than an entire month. We mostly chat about school and what a turd Mason has turned out to be. Before he got his powers, he wasn’t that bad. He could still be a jerk at times, but he wasn’t a bully.
We pull up to my house and notice my mom is home since her car is in the driveway. Thanking her for the ride and grabbing the door handle, she places her hand on my knee, "Look, don''t worry about Mason. He''s a jerk and will always be that way. Stay the way you are and don''t let people like him get under your skin and change you.”
As fast as she takes her hand off my knee she leans over and gives me what seems to be a second longer than necessary kiss on the cheek. Yep, I died in that hallway.
She smiles and says, "Have a good birthday." Thanking her again my hand pulls the handle, the door opens, and my legs power walk from her car to my house. This is way too weird.
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Gravel crunches underfoot while walking past the two-car garage toward the front door. For someone struggling to get by like my mom, it’s a pretty nice two-story house. It has a simple light gray exterior on wood siding with a covered entryway, overgrown bushes, and vines creeping into the walkway. My fault, I’ve been putting off the yard work because quite frankly, I hate it. The exterior windows are painted with white trim, and there is a small front porch area that extends to the first set of windows. A small sitting area that we never use.
Shaking off the unusual interaction that transpired, the door clicks shut. "Hey Mom, I''m home.”
Sounds of rusting in the dining room guide my legs to walk around the kitchen to see my mom putting dinner plates out on the table. "Hey sweetie, I’m cooking dinner a little early today if that’s okay. I figured you would want to go out with your friends for your birthday earlier tonight since you have exams tomorrow and can’t stay out late.”
It smells mouthwatering, a glazed ham is my guess as the aroma invades my nostrils. My mom is always an amazing cook.
"That''s fine, I''m starving anyway, and it smells delicious. You dropped the ball working in a boring cubicle. You should have been a chef."
"Oh, you think so? Well, I couldn''t stand working in that heat all day. And thanks for insulting the job that puts this food on the table," she says glaring at me.
"Hey, I''m only saying maybe it''s your true calling."
"Doubt that. How was school today?"
"Good. Just a normal day as ever."
I don''t want to burden her with my problems at school regarding Mason and his goons. She has enough on her plate as it is rather than worrying about something that is essentially part of my daily routine at this point. We chat for a while about our day until dinner is finished cooking. It’s not long until I finish my meal with hungry appreciation.
"So, are you going out tonight?" my mom asks while putting the dishes away.
"Yeah, going bowling with a few friends."
"Which friends if you don''t mind me asking?"
"Rick, Benny, and Remy"
"All right, well have fun. I''m not giving you a curfew tonight but don''t be out extremely late. It''s still a school night,” she reminds me as she loads the dishwasher.
"I know, don''t worry. Everyone else is in the same boat."
“Oh and here,” she says as she ruffles through her purse quickly. “You said you didn’t want a party or cake or even presents for your birthday, so you can have this.”
My mom hands me a small stack of cash. “Happy Birthday, spend it however you like.”
“Thanks, Mom,” excitement filled my voice. It looks to be about seventy-five dollars. Plenty of money to pay for games and drinks tonight.
After dinner, I dress and call Rick to pick me up. Scanning my room looking for my hat, pictures framed on the wall and dresser catch my attention. Many include Rick and me, usually playing games or an activity like fishing. It’s been almost eight years since we met. Through scanning the pictures, it seems every shirt he’s wearing has something nerdy on it, from Marvel superhero stuff to Transformers and even Pokémon.
He wants to go bowling and it’s no secret why. It''s one of the few things he can use his power to win at something. There’s no harm in indulging him. It makes him happy, and he teases me about winning every time while I feign being distraught. I don’t think he realizes it’s my birthday and not his.
Eventually, Rick arrives to pick me up from my house in his barely functioning hunk of metal you can call a car, and we head toward the bowling alley. The plethora of dents, rust spots, and quirks associated with even starting the thing shocks me that it runs at all.
"The prodigal son returns," he says giving me a mock salute.
"I wouldn''t call myself that in any sense of the word," I say saluting him back.
"Hey, who knows, you may get a thirty-five-point mark so you can kick Mason''s ass."
"Yeah, and I’m also an Olympian god in disguise. I merely enjoy getting turned into a bonfire for his amusement.”
"Stranger things have happened."
"Like what?"
"I don’t know."
"Exactly," I state, hopefully getting my point across.
"Well, someone needs to do something about him. With a thirty-three he''s super dangerous. We need a cool kickass group of us like the Avengers to deal with bullies like him," he says with a hint of anger, likely remembering his most recent encounter with Mason.
"The only person who can do something about him is another like him. And all those alpha wannabe types stick together,” I roll my eyes at his obsession with wanting to mimic the superheroes in comic books.
"So, we just wallow away in this vicious cycle?" Rick says depressingly.
"Pretty much."
We pull into the parking lot around six in the evening. The others are waiting out front for us. Rick and I jump out of Rick''s car, doors creaking like they’ve been bonded together with the hinges, and walk up to greet Benny and Remy.
"Hiya Hunter! Happy Birfday!" Remy says excitedly. She gives me a miniature bear hug and presses herself into me tightly. After she lets go, she keeps her face merely inches from mine, our noses almost touching.
"So, you ready-."
"Space."
"Huh?" Remy says as she tilts her head inquisitively. I swear this girl was a cat or dog in another life.
"Space please."
"Oh sorry," Remy says taking a step back.
She''s in her usual attire, nearly everything black. She''s wearing a black cotton corset over a black and red blouse with a black skirt and fishnet stockings. Her steel-toed combat boots complete the ensemble in addition to her jet-black undercut hairstyle with bright red dyed streaks. Not exactly what I would consider bowling attire, but the girl doesn''t stray from her comfort zone. She leans far more into her Japanese heritage rather than her French, especially with her obsession with anything cutesy. I’d expect she has a sort of goth or emo personality, but she is as bubbly as any of the cheerleaders at school.
Benny walks up beside Remy, and my eyes notice something off about him. “Look at you—no Hawaiian shirt today? That’s a shocker,” I say, genuinely surprised he owns anything else.
“Yeah man, gotta rock the norm sometimes. Change it up a little bit,” Benny says gesturing to his plain white t-shirt and brown cargo pants.
“Yeah, you could also kick Mason’s ass for us to get him off our back. That’d be a nice change,” I say in a somewhat pleading yet sarcastic tone.
“Bro you know I would if he ever did something serious. But he’s just messing with you guys because you don’t stand up for yourself. You know the second I do something he’ll have me booted off the team. I don’t like it but football is my future and I can’t throw it away over Mason being a petty jerk. He knows better than to do that around me or do something really bad to you guys,” Benny says trying to defend himself.
I’m mostly joking, I get where he’s coming from. I know he walks a fine line between being a team player and being our friend. But it still sucks that everyone says: stand up to the guy who is double your size, it’ll work out fine.
"Hey man, like, you ready to go bowling or you gonna bust my chops all night out here?" Benny asks.
"Yeah let''s go," I say walking toward the entrance.
We walk through the doors and are greeted by a large sign at the entrance.
NO USE OF POWERS PERMITTED. VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED.
Rick looks at the sign and sighs, "Well that''s new." I know he''s sad because he was planning on using his powers to win.
"Yeah, dude. They been havin'' problems with stupid people using powers. Guess it got outta hand," Benny says tapping the sign.
"No biggie. I don''t need to use powers to win against you guys,” Rick says with an obvious lack of confidence.
“Then why’d you use them at all?” Benny retorts.
Rick folds his arms and mutters, “Whatever.”
“Let’s go bowling please,” I motion toward the counter.
Of course, Benny and Remy completely obliterate Rick and me. Strike after strike you would think Benny’s power is to be the best bowler alive. By the end, we have less than half the points they accumulate. Remy, doing her trademark victory dance doesn’t help Rick with his self-esteem. He''s usually the one gloating relentlessly at the end of the games. We play a few more rounds, switching up teams so at least we can have a chance of winning. The night is mostly spent trying to get my mind off tomorrow because, for people like us, it’s not a fun day.
At around eleven it’s time to head home, partly because losing all the time isn’t fun and I’m running out of the money my mom gave me. Too many bowling alley burgers and pizza, which doesn’t sit well with my stomach.
Leaning against the passenger door waiting for Rick to unlock the car, Rick stops me before we get in.
"Yo, what do you think you''re going to get? Do you think it''ll be something cool? I bet you''re gonna get higher than Mason.”
I laugh, "Yeah, and as likely to have a one hundred forty like RED."
Rick stops opening his car door, "Dude keep that to yourself, you know it''s become like a taboo to talk about him that way."
I raise an eyebrow, "Yeah but it still happened, that''s why the Titan Legion exists in case anyone like that pops up again.”
Rick doesn’t push the conversation so we get in the car and drive home. Thoughts about RED dance in my mind as I stare out of the window, the moonlit night shining lightly on the dewy tree leaves as we pass by in a blur. We both ride silently, as cheering me up is pointless.
We pull up to my house and I tell Rick I''ll see him tomorrow at school. I''m not excited the way most kids are. I don’t care because I know what it will be.
Weak.
My mom is already asleep. My feet are heavy with the weight of my Surge tonight, and they guide me subconsciously to my room. The house is eerily quiet as my legs carry me up the stairs, my upper body teetering like it’s barely attached. I change into my pajamas, some basketball shorts, and a beat-up shirt, and get in bed. The room is full of my life experiences knowing all of these things captured on my walls and in pictures will define who I become tomorrow. At least, that’s the theory. Powers are likely based on personality. Sometimes I think they don’t know shit and make it up to give people peace of mind.
It doesn’t take me long before that blissful eternity envelops me and I wait for the new day.