I walked through the aisles of the local grocery shop, approximately a mile from my home. I double-checked my list, and the cart was brimming with various foods. Mark and Mia walked through the store in the distance, their cart filled with protein drinks, deli meats, cheese, and one meat lover's pizza hanging out of the cart. He appeared to argue with Mia. As I watched them from afar, she seemed frustrated as she wandered away.
I stepped away from the rack's sour cream and onion chip bags. Then I turned the corner, my hoodie thrown over my head to avoid Mark, and nearly collided with Mia. My cheeks flushed. The anxious butterflies in my stomach tickled my core. She curled her hair in her fingers, staring at the variety of cookie dough on the shelves.
"I'm sorry," I said, apologizing to Mia. Mia grinned as she looked into my blue eyes.
"It's okay," she replied. She grabbed the front of my cart and stopped me as I pushed it further. "If you don't mind, I need your opinion." She expressed. My eyes widened, and I leaned on the cart for support, or if I started floating.
"Sure. I'm happy to help."
Mia pointed to the cookie rack in front of her. "What are your favorite cookies?" Her eyes twinkled with delight as she asked. For a moment, the fear disappeared as I laughed.
"I like brookies, but I will go with plain chocolate chip cookie dough if you prefer plain cookies."
Mia laughed to herself. "What's a brookie?" She asked. My smile turned to a grimace.
"Okay, a brookie is a mix of a brownie and a chocolate chip cookie. It's perfect when Sam makes it." A smile tugged my lips apart once more than I explained. Mia grinned as well.
"I'm going to give it a shot." Mia grabbed a block of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough from the shelf.
"How are Sam and your father doing?" Mia asked. For a few moments, she remained silent as she thought to herself. "And your brother?"
"They're hanging in there," I said, her eyes meeting mine before I averted my gaze. "Sam is lonely, and my brother and father work." Mark emerged around the corner, finding Mia standing next to me with a bag of pre-made cookie dough.
He hissed, "Mia, come here." Mia slapped the cookie slab on her palm as she gazed at me.
"That's my cue." She chuckled nervously.
Yep.
"I'll talk to you at school?"
"Yeah. Bye, James," she waved at me as she wandered off. Mark glared at me from a distance, and I exhaled, knowing he was nearby. I saw him murmur in Mia's ear, his grin pushing his lips apart, and then they walked away, leaving me staring at the cookie dough in front of me. I desperately needed brookies.
My mother always made these when Derek and I were younger. Sam picked up the tradition after she died. I took two pre-made chocolate chip cookie doughs from the shelf, tossed them into the cart, and walked away.
∆∆∆
My dad let me walk home from the grocery store while he ran more errands that evening. I sat on the roof of our two-story house, my legs pulled into my chest and my hands in my hoodie pockets, gazing up at the stars. I was thinking about what Derek asked me. Was I meant to be a superhero my whole life? Derek went through my window and sat on the roof next to me.
"Are you all right?" He asked me. I took a deep breath in.
"Nope," I said, exhaling a powerful breath that froze the cool air. Derek put his arm around my shoulder and joined me in gazing at the stars.
"What's wrong?" He questioned me again. I slipped my feet away from my chest and rested my converse at the roof's edge. There was silence, and I listened to the wind and crickets. After realizing I was concerned about Derek, I sighed and gave up, trying to ignore him. "Why do I have superpowers, Derek? Why couldn't it have been you, Dad, or Sam?" Derek was silent for another moment, and his grip tightened around my shoulder, offering brotherly comfort.
"Do you believe in the theory that things happen for a reason? Maybe you got superpowers for a reason, and perhaps we didn't get powers because it was supposed to happen too? Have you ever thought about that?"
"But why me?" I asked him again.
There has to be a reason for it. It may take some time to figure out why?"
"What are you two doing on the roof?" My father asked from below. Derek and I looked down at my tired father, who was merely grinning and holding groceries in his arms. He pulled into the driveway, and I didn't notice until he beeped the horn. I was too concerned with my abilities and what I would do with my life. I was three and a half months from turning seventeen and fewer than two years from adulthood. I didn't want to be a cop like my father or brother, and I certainly didn't want to be a hero, yet heroism seemed to run in my family's veins.
"Do you need help with groceries, dad?" Derek shouted back.
"Sure," my father waved at us. Derek dashed to the window, and I glanced over the side of our two-story house, pondering how I could leap off the roof without revealing my superpowers to my father. I slipped my feet over the edge, and my father yelled at me just before I went off the top.
"Don't jump off the roof, James." That was no longer an option. I flew, my sneakers collided with the sidewalk below, and I landed in a wobbly superhero pose inches from where my father stood. Derek dashed through the doorway and grabbed our father's grocery bags. "What were you boys doing on the roof again?" My father asked. I pulled out four bags from the back of my father's Suburban.
"We were just talking," Derek said. Behind my father, I rolled my eyes at Derek and slammed the car door hard enough to set off the car alarm.
"Shit!" I cursed. My father spun around to see what had happened. I didn't scratch the door's metal, but the car was rocking somewhat. He silenced the vehicle by pressing a button on his keys.
"Damn it, James," my father groaned. His hands were resting on the car's hood, attempting to stop it from swaying to not break the tire mechanics by keeping the car together. I pressed my fingertips on the car's roof, and it stopped moving.
"In the house, now," my father barked. As my gaze met Derek's, he shrugged, his grocery bags still clutched in his hands, and winked. "Don't you dare," I scolded Derek? He shrugged once more, a smug look on his face, and led me into the house.
∆∆∆
Sam removed baked brookies from the oven with a potholder and set them on the stove. My dad stood in the doorway, his hip resting on the doorframe, as Derek and I sat patiently at the counter.
Derek chuckled, making me chuckle as well. "How much do you want to bet? Mark is losing his shit right now."
"Knock it off, Derek," my father yelled, wandering into the kitchen, where he pulled two beers from the fridge. After loosening it from the pan, Sam took a bite of one brookie and laid it on the counter.
"Mark is a dick," Sam started, "But that doesn't mean he can't be protective of his cousin. Do you remember when I punched Jack McCoy so hard that he needed jaw surgery?" My father snorted and gulped a swig of his drink.
"Yeah. You're lucky Jack's father didn't sue. Dad was so pissed, but that son of a bitch deserved it." Before my father exchanged a beer bottle for a brookie, Sam gave him the "See what I mean" look. He then turned to face me.
"Don't even think about it," my father looked at me. Sam had set two brookies in front of Derek and me. I gave my father an anxious grin and bit into my cookie.
"I'm out," Derek announced, grabbing his brookie from the counter and walking towards the doorway. Derek stuffed his brookie in his mouth and shot me with finger guns.
"I guess I'm out, too," I said. That was my cue to leave upstairs to my bedroom and sneak out to help Derek with his work, but as I left the room, Derek stopped me in the hallway.
"You're not coming with me tonight," he said. "I need some time to myself." I turned to the wide staircase and stomped up the steps.
"Sounds like a plan," I replied. "Good night."
"I'll be back in a few hours," He shrugged.
"Cool," I replied. Then I raced up the steps to my bedroom while Derek left to patrol for the night.
∆∆∆
Sam sat on the edge of my bed, his eyes on his cellphone screen and his tongue poking out from between his bottom and top lips as he concentrated on something, but he still talked to me. He was most likely taking notes, which I didn't mind. After I got my superpowers, he learned his lesson and multitasked more effectively. Either that or my accident wasn't much of an accident after all.
"Sam," I said, prodding him with my toes to get his attention.
"What's up, James," He asked me. However, he didn't appear wholly concentrated on his task. He put his hand on my foot and looked at me after I prodded him again. "You know, Mark could have pressed charges, right?" He remarked.
"He could have, but he didn't," I replied.
"Why do you think he didn't?" Sam asked me. I reached across my bed and grabbed my phone off my side dresser.
"I'm not sure, Sam. He must know something." I replied to him. "I'm sure that Mark is aware of my superpowers."
"You don't say," Sam said, his head cocked to the side and his lips pressed together in a smug grimace. Sam exhaled deeply and patted my ankle as he sank into the mattress's side. "Mark is a jerk, but it's not because of you. Bullies all have a deeper motivation for bullying. If he knows your abilities and hasn't mentioned them yet, he's probably not as horrible as you think." Sam made a point. I sighed and tucked my knees against my chest.
"You don't know, Mark," I grumbled as I scrolled through my social media page before turning off the screen, listening for a click, and putting it to the side.
"And you think you do?" He raised an eyebrow and scowled at me. I had a gut feeling that maybe Sam knew more than I thought he did. After all, when we moved into town, Sam and my father used to be friends with Michael Reignson, Mark's father. It wasn't until Mr. Reignson lost his wife and the station promoted Mr. Reignson to the chief that he became a dick.
Mark was nice until that fateful day, but I've been in his shoes. I, too, lost my mother, and the day she died, my entire world changed. My mother was my superhero, and there isn't a day that I don't wish she could be here with me.
"I know Mark is a jerk, but it could be worse," Sam said, patting my shins and standing up. I hoped he was right and Mark was better than I thought. Maybe I needed to be corrected. Maybe Mark wasn't the villain I thought he was. "I'm working on a project that I need to finish. You're welcome to come down and observe?" He offered, but he already knew I would help. I exhaled and relaxed into my mattress, sliding my legs beneath me.
"Give me a minute, and I'll be down there," I responded to his question.
Then Sam moved to the door. "I'll meet you downstairs." He spoke.
"Sure." With a nod, I acknowledged him. Sam then closed the door.
∆∆∆
I dashed down the basement stairs, catching Sam's eye as he hopped back and forth between his laptop and a beaker full of liquid experiments. As I walked in, he stared at me, his eyes wide with delight and a giant smile creeping across his thin lips.
"Do you know what this is?" he asked. I grabbed the test tube from
Sam's hand snatched it from my fingertips. "Don't do that again unless you want more powers," he muttered." I backed down as my hands rocketed into the sky.
"Is that the stuff that gave me my powers?" He licked his lips and sighed, peeking at his computer screen.
"If I recreated it, I could reverse engineer it." He defended himself with a shrug.
"Sam," I groaned. "Why did you think recreating that stuff was a good idea?"
"I have half of the genetic research—" He considered telling me something confidential before biting. He quickly changed his mind. "I also have part of the cure?" He proposed with a shrug. "Plus, with all these new supers appearing, I've been considering putting the supergene to the test on Derek."
"You better not," I roared. Sam took a step back, his hands in the air this time.
"All right, I won't." He gave in. It was bad enough that Sam cursed me with superpowers. I didn't think Derek should have to suffer, either. Although, I don't think he'd mind having superpowers.
I offered, "I'm sure he wouldn't want to live with powers." Sam was aware of the situation, but he shrugged it off, dropping his hands to his sides and returning to his laptop. "I'm curious to know what this would do to you?" he added.
"It's not happening."
"You're a little grumpy tonight."
"Yeah, I'm tired," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Then go to bed," he advised. He didn't dare to look away when I locked eyes with him, challenging me.
"Only if you swear not to do something as idiotic as giving Derek powers." Sam grimaced and nodded, agreeing with me. He returned my stare after pressing a button on his laptop.
Sam grimaced. "I promise."
"I guess I'll go to bed. "As I stretched my arms over my head, I yawned.
"Good night," I said.
He said, "Good night." Then he returned to his research, leaving me to stroll up the open stairwell. I knew Sam would do the exact opposite of what I wanted, but I prayed that whatever gods were watching over me, he wouldn't.
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