Adrenaline pulsed through my veins as I wandered down the school hallway that morning, waiting for Mark to pop out of nowhere and shove me against my locker.
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Instead, Noah's eyes met mine as he leaned against my locker, with an arrogant smirk forming on his lips. "Morning, Knight," he said, pushing off the lockers.
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"Uh, good morning," I replied, more like a question. What was this guy's game?
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"How's your brother?" He asked as I unlocked my locker and slipped my books from my bag, trading them for my science binder and notebook.
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"He's, uh, okay, I guess," I replied with cautious eyes on Noah. Noah smiled, extending his arm over my shoulders. I shoved him off as he scowled in my direction.
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"I'm sorry if I crossed a line there, mate." He frowned.
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I didn't want to upset the guy because of my suspicions, so I was honest with him. "No. It's just that I barely know you." I spoke. I checked him up and down. He seemed normal, but nobody knew about my superpowers at my school besides Mark. At least, that's what I thought.
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"How's your dad and uncle?" He continued with his questions. I zipped up my bag and slammed my locker shut. Who was this guy, and how did he know so much about my family? Was I right? Was this guy one super, and if so, which one was he? I didn't know whether I could trust him, but he trailed behind as I walked toward the classroom, watching me while keeping a close distance.
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I took the front desk closest to the doorway, throwing my backpack on the desk, and Noah took the desk beside me. My eyes drew to Max sitting in the back row on his desk, glaring at me. Mark was beside him, watching me too, but his gaze drew to Noah, who dug his pen into his wooden desk with force strong enough; he carve his name into the wood instead.
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Mr. Kinley sat at his desk, counting the students as they piled into the classroom. His gaze met mine. He seemed annoyed with someone in the room but kept his bitterness to himself.
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"If it helps, they don't seem bad," Noah gestured to Mark and his friends. Then, he wedged his pen between his teeth and muttered, "However, Maximus is a dick."
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I huffed, mumbling back, "That's good to know." My eyes met Max's as I looked back at him. He cracked his knuckles loud enough that I could hear it from my desk, trying to intimidate me.
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Noah was right; Max scared the fuck out of me, and that he may have been the other super frightened me even more. I tried to keep as much distance from Max and Mark as possible. Did it work? No. Did I try? Hell yeah. It was almost impossible to avoid them, no matter how hard I tried.
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Derek met me in the kitchen with leftover brookies and a glass of milk from a week ago. He watched as I floated a can of Sprite to my lips. "Dad is here," He noted. I grabbed it from the air and set it down seconds later. Suddenly our dad walked through the doorway, wet from the rain outside, when he held the mail from outdoors before it soaked wet, and Derek gave me a "told you so" look.
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"I'm going for a drive this evening, and I was hoping you could come with me, James," my father announced. Derek and I looked at our dad.
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"Reignson, let you off today?" Derek asked. He pulled his milk to his lips and took a big gulp, leaving a milk mustache.
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"Yep," my father replied. Then he stole Derek's Brookie from his fingertips and finished it in one bite. He said, "Thanks Derek," and left the room with a stuffed mouth. Derek stared at the doorway where our father left the room and pouted.
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"Why does everyone steal my food?" He m oaned, making me chuckle.
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"Bad luck, I guess."
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Derek glared at me, his eyes fixed on my soda can, and he rolled his eyes. "You're lucky I don't drink sprite." He checked his cell phone and left the kitchen in a rush. I sighed, leaning against the broken countertop, loosening another chunk as dust and debris rained down my thigh.
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"Son of a bitch!" I cursed—stupid super strength. I pulled away from the counter with my sprite and left the kitchen.
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My father drove through the winding hills of Phoenix, keeping within speed limits. After the other day, I wasn't sure how much I enjoyed this, but I was happy to talk about anything with him if my dad was safe.
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He was driving in solitude. He concentrated on the peaceful, silent, dark, and twisting, wet canyon road- the light from the moonlit skylights and the sidewalk lamp posts cast shadows on the sidewalk- the dark sky lingered above, and the rain hammered the cars.
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"I don't want you hanging out with Derek when he's at work." My father stated. "As much as I want you to enter the academy after graduation, he isn't the most influential person in your life." My dad was far from the truth. Derek saved my ass on most occasions, and I help him, too. If I didn't go with him on most days, Derek wouldn't still be a cop, nor would he be alive, and I wouldn't be the most reputable superhero in history.
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"Dad!" I moaned. Instead, he glared at me as we pulled to a red light.
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"James, you're sixteen." He declared, his gaze straying from the road for a brief while. I sighed and conceded, realizing that my father was correct. I also knew that for things like this, we were a team, not that I wanted to parade around town as a superhero and sidekick. It instilled confidence in me and provided an adrenaline boost and something to do when boredom kicked in. My father slammed on the pedal and sped down the road while I curled against the car's window.
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"If you enjoy going with Derek so much, maybe I might enroll you in ROTC or something," my father said. The only issue was that Mark was an ROTC student, and I tried to stay as far away from my enemy as possible. I huffed a deep breath of air and sunk into the window.
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"Nope," I said.
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My dad grunted, frustrated by my defiance. "I should have done that when you first entered high school."
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A dark figure dropped from the sky, creating a deep crater in the streets before us. My father slammed the brakes, and the automobile came to a screeching halt. As his hands mounted into the front of the car, the teenage super took a few steps forward into the lights, watching us.
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"What the fuck!" My dad cursed. My fists were tense, ready to fight, but I held back since I was with my father. A super in a dark gray hoodie with a mask that only appeared to cover his eyes leaned against our car's hood, stopping us in our tracks. My head hammered as raindrops pounded his saturated hoodie, and we locked eyes for a moment.
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"I'm not planning on hurting you. I want to talk to you," The super's youthful yet masculine Australian voice appeared in my mind. The boy's gaze shifted to my father, who sat in the driver's seat and shrugged as he returned his gaze to me. It terrified me, unsure if this person could read people's minds. My father honked the horn and glared at the super kid, squinting to make out his shadow in the moonlit neighborhood. He still stood in front of us with a raised eyebrow.
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"I guess I'll take a raincheck, mate," the boy's voice was in my head again. Then, he saluted me and disappeared into the rain.
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"What was that about?" My father looked at me wide-eyed. I exchanged a confused shrug and sighed.
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"I'm not sure yet," I replied, looking into the open road before me while taking sharply panicked breaths. I didn't know and wasn't sure I wanted to find out.
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