High School Heroes Chapters 4-7
The Continuing Adventures of Christine and her Friends.
We hope you enjoyed the opening chapters of High School Heroes. Now we bring you chapters 4-7 in which Christine discovers quite a few things about herself and the people around her.
Take a look! Enjoy!
Chapter 4
Playing Games
Samantha didn’t show her face for a week. Rumors were that she checked herself into a mental hospital. In reality she was hiding at home (Rebecca had been thinking about it).
When she did return, she seemed more humbled, though she still shot me hateful glances every now and then. But each time I looked at her, she ran away.
The next time I saw her for any length of time was a few weeks later at the football game. She appeared to have regained her peppy step.
Over the last month, I’d become an avid football fan. Every Friday night, I could be found in the stands watching the Thomas Jefferson Jaguars pummeling whatever team they were facing. It was worth the headaches to sit there and watch. I’d even learned which number went with which player.
Maybe I was biased, but I was pretty sure Ethan was the reason the team won so much. He ran for at least five or six touchdowns a game. No one could catch him. By October, it was apparent we would make the playoffs, and, for the first time ever, possibly win the state championship.
It was cold this evening. It was pretty much the first time all year I had worn my skull and crossbone jacket. I would have worn one of the school jackets, but I just didn’t look good in bright red and gold.
One more quarter, and we got this!
Why isn’t Green playing my Raymond? He’s the best player out there.
It looks like it’s going to rain.
To block the voices in my head, I concentrated on the game. It helped, but it wasn’t fool roof. The voices sounded more like when you switch radio stations very quickly, getting snippets of words and sentences instead of full-blown conversations. I couldn’t block them out completely, but at least this way I could enjoy semi-peace.
Mike Eagan, the quarterback, yelled hike, and threw the ball. It arced about thirty yards downfield into the waiting arms of number 26. Ethan ran, leaving the man covering him in the dust. For the third time that game, Ethan scored, making the score 41 to 3.
The field goal Wally Harris kicked a minute later put the score to a solid 42.
I got really nervous then. I had promised myself that if the Jaguars won, I would finally talk to Ethan. I would have the perfect opportunity, congratulating him on the win. I wasn’t sure I could go through with it.
A promise is a promise, I told myself, even though the butterflies threatened to fly away with my stomach. I decided to go and get myself a snack. A hotdog, or some nachos sounded pretty good. Besides, Ethan wouldn’t be back on the field until the other team (who cared what their name was) lost the ball. So, I had a couple of minutes.
With my mind relaxed, and not concentrating, the flood of thoughts again bombarded me.
That boy is going to the NFL.
I think we should check him for steroids.
Wow, man. Nice trick.
As I got to the concession stand, I saw the owner of that last thought. Peter Perkins, the resident skater punk, was showing off some tricks on his board. He did a nice rail slide along the low curb and ended with a kick flip. The trick was pretty good and I applauded as I walked by.
He looked at me and shook his head. Uh huh.
Apparently I was the only one who had clapped.
The next thing I knew, Peter lay on his back. Someone’s big meaty fist hit him hard in the chest. My gaze followed Peter’s as he looked up at his attacker. A giant red-haired boy stood over him. Boy might have been too loose a term for him. He had to have been at least twenty, and I was pretty sure he was still in the ninth grade.
“Nice trick, Perkins,” the man-child said. “Why don’t I show them a really good one?”
His thoughts were so muddled—probably from being as dense as a brick—that I couldn’t get a clear thought from him. I could tell, however, that he was going to hit Peter again.
I needed to distract him. “Hey, Tommy,” I said.
Tommy looked up at me, bewildered that anyone knew his name. That distracted him long enough for Peter to get up and step back a few feet.
“So, how was prison?” I added, hoping to infuriate the boy into forgetting about Peter totally. He wasn’t going to hurt me. Tommy considered himself a lady’s man.
“Christine.” He smiled at me—he was missing a couple teeth. “How’s my girl?”
He strode up to me, his arms spread wide as if to give me a hug. I stepped back. He took the hint and dropped his arms to his sides.
“I’m not your girl, Tommy. No one is.”
He looked like an ape whose favorite toy was taken away. His confusion turned to rage. Maybe I was wrong about him not hurting a girl. Thankfully, Mr. Philmore wasn’t too far away, and he’d seen the whole thing. “Mr. Fulton,” he called, “you don’t want to be sent back to Quincy after just one day, do you?”
Ha! I had only been joking about prison. Quincy was the place the school sent the real delinquents, and was as good as a jail. Fear radiated off of Tommy at the mere mention of the name.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Philmore.” Tommy bowed his head.
“Come on, Thomas. You promised you would be good.”
“I’m trying, Mr. Philmore,” Tommy practically whined. It was pathetic. “They were making fun of me.”
“We were not!” Peter said, but backed away when Tommy glared at him.
Mr. Philmore held up his hands as if that would calm everyone down. “Everyone just walk away. Otherwise I’ll find a whole bunch of sorry people in detention on Monday.”
Tommy stalked off. He didn’t speak, but did give Peter a dirty glance that said it wasn’t over.
“Thanks,” Peter said to me.
“You’re welcome.” As I moved away, he thought something that caused me to stop. I really would have hated to kill, Tommy.
After watching Peter and his friends leave the stadium, I decided it was just an idle threat and continued to the concession stand where I chose a hot chocolate instead of a hot dog. Not only was the chocolaty mixture like heaven sliding down my throat but it was just what I needed to warm me up for the fourth quarter.
Ethan ran for two more touchdowns in the fourth. The final score: 63 to 10. I was actually shaking with excitement.
Of course, excitement wasn’t the only reason I shook. The time was getting nearer and nearer when I would have to make the decision to go talk to Ethan. How could I? Even covered in sweat and dirt, his face was perfect. His blond hair still flowed in the breeze, even though he’d just taken his helmet off.
Can’t he even have helmet hair? Things would be so much easier if he had even one imperfection.
The football team remained on the field, just like after every game, when Coach Green told them everything they did wrong. Apparently, tonight there weren’t enough interceptions, and the kicker screwed up a punt. I heard all this in his mind, rather than his mouth, since he never said anything loud enough for the stragglers in the stands to hear. He even yelled at Ethan, saying that with his speed he should have scored twice as much. Ethan apologized to Green, which I didn’t think was right. He should have told Green to be thankful he’d scored at all. At least that’s what I would have said… if I had any backbone.
It wasn’t long before I was practically the only person left in the stands. A few parents lurked about. I heard them moaning in their heads.
It’s too cold to keep us waiting out here.
He should wait until tomorrow to scream at the kids.
At last, after what seemed like an eternity, Coach Green dismissed the team. This was my chance. Ethan grabbed his helmet and made for the stands. If I was going to do it, I had to do it now.
My legs refused to move.
Come on. Get up!
Other than the shaking of the combined nervousness, excitement and cold, my legs would not budge.
A promise is a promise.
That did it. I strode to the rail where the team was walking past. I waited for Ethan to come by. At that point the hot chocolate in my stomach threatened to make a second appearance.
The team laughed and hit each other on the shoulder pads, celebrating their victory. Finally, Ethan appeared, talking to another boy, whom I think was Derrick.
“Ethan,” I blurted out, before my rational mind could stop me.
He stopped and looked up. It was as if he’d never seen me before. Chances were, he hadn’t.
I froze. Oh my God, what have I done?
“Yes?”
I thought of a thousand things to say, all of which would make me sound like an intelligent young lady who was interested in him and excited that he had won the game. The problem was, all thousand things wanted to escape my lips at the same time. “Con… I liked… it was… ummm…”
Is she speaking English? Ethan thought.
Get a grip, Christine. “I’m sorry,” I said, surprised he had the patience to stand there. “Let me start over.”
Who is this? he asked himself.
“I’m Christine,” I answered before I realized he hadn’t spoken. I mentally kicked myself again, and then realized that introducing myself was a normal thing to do. “I just want to… congratulate you. You were awesome tonight.”
“Umm… thanks, I guess.” He began walking away. That was weird.
I almost fell over the rail. He thought I was weird. Weird was only one step up from freak. I needed to go after him, to make him see me for who I was. But my legs didn’t have any strength left, and instead they made me sit on the nearest bench.
Why did I have to be so stupid?
I heard Ethan’s voice again. She was cute though.
I wasn’t sure if he said it, or thought it. Either way, my sense of dread eased somewhat. I got up, jumping higher than I ever jumped before. I whooped, which earned me stares from the few remaining parents exiting the stands.
If only they understood.
As if Tiffany was a mind reader too, my cell rang at that moment. At lunch, I’d made the mistake of telling her what I was planning on doing. I rolled my eyes as I answered the phone. “Yes, Tiffany?” I said, sadly. I was dying to tell her what happened, but I would have my fun first.
“Oh, I’m sorry Chris.” She sounded equally sad. “Did I call at a bad time?”
“Yeah,” I pretended to sigh.
“I’m sorry. I guess it didn’t go well then.”
I wished I knew what she was thinking, but apparently thoughts didn’t travel on cell signals.
“No.” A second sigh. I laid it on thick. “I went over to talk to him. But I sounded like such an idiot.”
“What did you say?”
“I called out his name.” Which was true. Any good lie started with the truth. “But when he looked at me, I froze. Then I said ‘I love you’. He totally freaked out and ran away.”
“Oh my God, you didn’t.”
“Yeah, I did,” I lied through my teeth.
She was silent. Somehow, I held back the gleeful chuckle building in my throat. I was glad she didn’t come to the game tonight, because my grin would have given me away.
I held in my laughter long enough for her to say, “Christine Carpenter, please tell me you didn’t really embarrass yourself like that!”
“Of course not!” I practically shouted. The barely contained laughter came roaring out.
Her tone changed. She sounded stern, almost like Mr. Jenkins when I forgot to do my homework. “Christine, tell me what really happened.”
I told her the whole story, though I made my thirty-second encounter with Ethan sound like a ten minute conversation. Finally, I told her how I overheard him tell Derrick he thought I was cute. Of course, I let her think I heard him say it, not think it.
The inevitable question came through the earpiece, “So, are you going to go out with him?”
My response was nothing more than a disgruntled sigh. I wasn’t about to put myself out there to be shot down that quickly. This relationship was something I would need to develop slowly; otherwise I might scare him off. Plus, my stomach couldn’t take any more stress.
I was saved from answering when my call waiting beeped. “Tiff, it’s my mom. I’ve gotta go. She’s waiting to pick me up.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Yup.”
I switched over to my mother’s call and told her I would be in the parking lot in two minutes. I left slowly, hoping Ethan would come back, forgetting something, or even better, wanting to talk to me.
For the first time since school began, I couldn’t wait for the weekend to be over.
Chapter 5
Comic Books
After working two six-hour shifts at May’s and going out with Tiffany and Sam on Saturday night, the weekend flew by. Before I was even able to leave for work Saturday, Tiffany texted me and I told me we were going out to the movies. I knew she only wanted to hear more about my little meeting with Ethan. She would be disappointed, only because I pretty much told her everything already.
Since our town isn’t that big, we had to drive down to the mall in West Mifflin, which had a multiplex built in. My mom drove. We got dinner and since it was still early, we decided to wander around before picking a movie to see.
Tiffany wanted to look at dresses, saying that it was never too early to shop for the prom. However, her thoughts betrayed her, telling me she really wanted to impress David for their six-month anniversary in a couple weeks.
I had given up trying to convince her David was cheating on her. With all the other stuff going on with me, our friendship was already strained. Dragging us both along, much to Sam’s disappointment, we must have gone into ten fashion boutiques before she finally gave up on finding something in her price range.
When we passed the bookstore, I stopped and looked in the window. A rack just inside the doorway had a bunch of comic books on it. I don’t read comic books. Sure, I knew who Superman and The Hulk were, but I wasn’t one to go through and read their little soap opera, where nothing good ever seemed to happen. One comic caught my eye: “Secret Origins: Jean Grey.” She was the X-Man who had psychic abilities (don’t ask me how I know that).
Just like you, the voice inside my head mentioned.
I picked up the comic, which must have done more than confuse both Tiffany and Sam, because they were both thinking, What is she doing?
The book started off with this little red-haired girl moving things around with her mind. I couldn’t do that. If I could I didn’t know it yet. I decided to buy it and told my friends I would catch up in a few minutes. They shot me weird looks before walking off. I was out of the store two minutes later, pleased that the saleslady didn’t have any negative thoughts about my choice of reading material.
I caught up with Tiffany and Sam as they approached the theater. “You’re not becoming a comic book geek, are you, Chris?” Tiffany asked.
“No.”
The way she huffed and turned toward the movie times said she didn’t believe me. “So, what are we going to see?” Tiffany checked the sign above the ticket booth.
I wanted to see “Over My Head,” the new comedy that opened on Friday, but I was outvoted and we ended up seeing “Slasher” (Sam’s idea). The movie was horrible. I don’t even think it rated being called a “Bad” movie. It had to be a category below. The movie opened with a couple making out. Suddenly a shadowy figure with a machete came and hacked them both up. We all knew it was going to happen. Actually, the whole theater was thinking the same thing at that point, deaths number one and two. The worst thing was the killer turned out to be some mutant deer that looked like Bambi hopped up on steroids. Like I said, horrible.
Sam will never be allowed to choose a movie again.
Sam’s mother picked us up right after the movie was over. I was eager to get home and read the comic. I really felt like there was something I could learn from it. Normally, I’d be the first person to say there was nothing to be gained from reading a comic book. But I was hardly normal these days.
The character, Jean’s powers came on suddenly, just like mine and at about the same age. She had tremendous trouble controlling the powers at first. She made a real mess of things, at school, in her parent’s house, and everywhere she went. She tried her abilities on her parents on more than one occasion. Luckily no one ever caught on. Otherwise she would have been shipped away, labeled a freak. If it weren’t for that bald guy in the wheelchair, who showed up at the end, she wouldn’t have been able to truly develop her powers.
That’s what I needed. A teacher, a mentor, someone to train me properly. Someone to show me how to block the voices out of my head. I slid the comic into my dresser drawer, under my socks—it seemed a safe place. I would have to get the next issue to see what happened to her next.
I am not turning into a comic book geek. I just need to find clues. It might help me.
The rest of the weekend sped past. Before I knew it my mother was pounding on my door, Monday morning, for school.
Every morning, my mother was thinking. Every morning I have to wake this girl up. Laziest thing I have ever seen. There was real anger behind her thoughts. I decided it was best to get up before she kicked my door in.
“Christine!” she called through the door. “You have five minutes!”
“I’m up,” I groaned, pushing myself into a sitting position.
I swear this girl is going to be the death of me.
She stomped down the stairs, probably to fix breakfast. I only had twenty minutes to get ready and get to school. I’d never slept this late. With a burst of energy, I jumped to my closet and pulled out a black sweatshirt and matching jeans. I was just about to go into the bathroom when my mother marched back upstairs.
I knew I was late, but why wouldn’t she leave me alone? The last thing I wanted was to have her on my back.
What would Jean do? No time to think about it. Mom was intent on busting in and screaming. I needed to stop her before we ended up fighting and I stayed in a bad mood all day long. I concentrated on her, like with Samantha in the lunchroom that day. It was only the second time I tried this—and the first time was accidental.
By concentrating on my mother, and using my own anger to break through, I could see into her mind. Random images didn’t float past like they did with Samantha. This time, I knew exactly what I was looking for and learned my mother was deathly afraid of spiders.
It was almost too easy. Suddenly, I was looking through my mother’s eyes. The entire stairway was filled with spiders, of all sizes and shapes. A particularly hairy one skittered down the banister and grazed her hand.
Mom’s piercing shriek and running footsteps had me almost falling over laughing. Somehow I held myself together long enough to walk to the bathroom. I was still giggling as a brushed my teeth, and sent a spray of foam all over the mirror.
Downstairs, my mother was still trying to steady her hand as she sipped coffee.
“Everything okay, Mom?” Try as I might, the muscles in my face refused to listen to my orders to be serious.
“Wh-what are you so h-happy about?”
“Nothing.” I grabbed my Pop-Tart and walked out to wait by the car.
When she came out a few minutes later, she had decided she imagined the herd of arachnids and was back to her normal grumpy self. Mom took my being late as a personal attack on her character. She loved being prompt—it was what she lived for. We arrived at school with minutes to spare. She practically pushed me out of the car.
I went inside the main lobby, concentrating with all my might so I wouldn’t be assaulted by the minds of a thousand different people at once. Radio static filled my head. I felt proud that I was learning how to control my powers.
Imagine what you could do if you had an instructor.
I smiled at that thought. Who knew how far my powers might stretch? So far I’d been able to hear people’s thoughts and make them see things. If I could do other things, I could be unstoppable.
The hallways were still relatively empty, and quiet. So, it wasn’t too hard to hear someone screaming in the gym. I’m certainly not one to seek out someone who might do damage to my eardrums. However, my curiosity was piqued. It wasn’t so much who was yelling, because Coach Green was known for his temper tantrums, but who was being yelled at.
I hurried past Green’s office so they wouldn’t think I was eavesdropping. Green’s face was red with fury. I could almost see steam coming out his ears like it did in cartoons. He was facing the door and screaming at a blonde haired boy with his back to me. Didn’t matter. I didn’t need to see his face to know Ethan was being chewed out by the coach.
I needed to hear this, so I stopped just out of sight to listen.
“If you don’t start putting your all into the game, I’m going to bench you!”
It was an idle threat because even as he said it, he thought, I could never bench you, boy, you’re the only player with any talent.
I didn’t want Ethan to get cut from the team. What else would I do on Friday night?
“I know you can run faster. I know you can be faster,” the coach continued.
If only you knew how fast I really am.
At first I thought Ethan actually said the words. I was waiting for Green to hit him. But, the coach went on without so much as a pause, which told me Ethan hadn’t said a thing. It didn’t occur to me to pay too much attention to what he actually thought.
“I have never seen someone so lazy in all my life. Pay attention when I’m talking to you!”
Why can’t you just understand I can’t do the things you ask? “If I’m such a disappointment, why don’t you cut me?”
“I’m don’t want to cut you,” Coach said, calmly. Ethan’s simple statement seemed to sap all the anger out of the man. “Listen, son. You are easily the best athlete on the team. You could run circles around all your teammates.”
You can say that again.
There was something a little disturbing in the way Ethan was responding to Coach Green, at least in his head.
“At practice, you aren’t giving it your all. It shows in your game play, too. Fifty percent, that’s all I think you’re giving. If you even put in eighty percent, you could be signed to the NFL right out of high school. I could easily get a scout down here from the Eagles or the Steelers.”
You have no idea how much I would love to give you my all. But if I did, it would be… scary.
What did he mean by that? I thought.
“Unless you start trying out there, Ethan, I’m going to have to cut you!” the coach said.
“But, Coach…”
“No buts. All I know is…”
I never heard the rest of Coach Green’s statement. Ethan zoned out and I picked up his thoughts instead. If only he knew I could do a mile in about three seconds. But if I did that, someone would find out about my powers and they’d take me away.
“Oh my God,” I gasped, before I could control myself. Green heard me. He was coming to investigate. I did the logical thing and raced away as fast as I could.
Outside the gym, I stopped and leaned against the wall to catch my breath for two reasons: one, I just had the second greatest shock of my life, and two, because I hadn’t run that much in a while.
What to do?
Best thing would be to talk to Ethan. How could I? I could barely say hello. How could I tell him I had powers too? I pictured the conversation in my head. “Hey, Ethan. Remember me from the other night? Well, I can read minds.”
“Really? Are you psychotic?”
Yeah, that would go over real well.
Could he run as fast as he said? I needed to know I wasn’t alone. It would be so perfect if Ethan was just like me. Different. Special.
I needed to think about it, and I had some time. After all, it wasn’t like Ethan really was running off anywhere. (Yes, bad pun, I know.)
The warning bell rang. Five minutes to get to my locker and then to class. The students were filing in the main doors and once again I concentrated to turn their voices to a dull roar. It was enough, but I still rushed to get myself out of the hallway as soon as possible.
All through math class, Mrs. Blank droned on about “Right Triangles and What’s Right What’s Wrong and What’s Acute.” I was too preoccupied with Ethan to worry about it. Besides, when it came time for the test, I could just read someone’s mind to get the answers.
“Savanah, please pay attention,” Ms. Blank ordered.
“I’m sorry,” the girl told her, but thought, No, I’m not.
I have lunch period with Ethan, I thought. That would be the best time to talk.
Unless you can get him after school, my inner voice argued.
At that moment, a blood-curling scream filled my head. It came on so suddenly there was no time to block it out. I winced, and immediately scanned the room for the source. No one made any indication that they were in pain, or distressed.
When my gaze landed on Savanah, I knew it was her.
How could Bruce do that? How could he make me do that? I wonder if anybody knows. I’d heard Bruce Matson was taking her out over the weekend. I really didn’t care since they were both asses.
Savanah was a “preppy” girl. She came from a rich family and let everyone know it. She pretty much looked at the rest of the student body as being from “the wrong side of the tracks.”
I tried my best to think of something else. I didn’t care about her and Bruce, nor did I want to hear about her little problem. But her thoughts were so strong I couldn’t block them out. I heard every gruesome detail about their horrible date, including the things he “made her do.”
No wonder she isn’t paying attention, I thought.
A bit of sympathy for her grew—only a little, though. No one should have to go through that. Not even girls like Savanah, or, dare I say, even Samantha. Strange—both the most vile girls in the worlds names begin with S.
If I saw Bruce today, I would make him pay. Not for Savanah, but for girls everywhere.
The bell rang and I hurried to second period. Ethan was just coming out of the classroom across the hall. I tried to call to him, I really did, but my vocal chords refused to function. I mentally kicked myself as he walked away.
I stamped my foot on the floor, hard. I regretted that as soon as the shock ran up my leg and simultaneously shook my knee and my spine. It was at that moment I decided I couldn’t just stand by and let things happen. I needed to make things happen on my own.
The next time you see him, you are going to talk to him. No matter how painful it may be, I told myself. And I would make sure that it happened.
Chapter 6
Talking
The next time I saw Ethan was during lunch. I warned Sam in English that I wouldn’t be sitting with him and Tiffany. I didn’t want anything to stop me from doing this and sitting at my normal table would be only one more excuse not to go up to him.
As I walked past our table, their eyes bored into the back of my skull. I did my best to ignore Tiffany’s grin of triumph. If only she knew what I really wanted to say to him.
“Can we talk for a moment?” I strived for a strong, commanding tone, but my voice, as it always did around him, came out small and timid.
Hey, cutie. He looked up at me and motioned to the empty seat opposite him.
I sat, too quickly, and ended up hurting my butt from the impact. I must have looked like such a fool. A couple of his friends stared at me as if I were insane. Their thoughts certainly matched their expressions.
I opened my mouth to speak, but his friends were staring at me. All were curious as to my appearance at their table. They thought I wanted to ask him out. As much as I wanted to, it wouldn’t happen today.
“Alone?” I asked Ethan, eyeing his friends.
“Sure.” He put down his sandwich. I hope this is quick. “Can you give us a second, guys?”
The others got up, taking their raunchy thoughts with them. Derrick hoped Ethan would give them all the gory details when he got back. Ethan was already thinking he would. I sure hoped he wouldn’t.
When they were gone, I leaned in. Even with all my resolve, I still wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it. So, I said the first thing that popped into my head. “I’m like Jean Grey.”
I winced at the sheer stupidity of the words. Why couldn’t I talk properly around him? Why did I have to act like an idiot every time I got near him?
That was definitely not what he expected. “Really,” he said, drawing out the word. “You really don’t look like her. I mean, no red hair, or tight spandex. And your—”
“That’s not what I meant,” I interrupted, before he could make the crude comment he’d been thinking about my breasts.
“Christine? Right?”
I almost jumped for joy that he’d remembered my name.
“As much as would love to talk to someone about comic books, can we get to what you want?” I knew this girl was going to stalk me.
“I’m not stalking you!”
Ethan’s lips smacked shut. Even his mind went blank for a few seconds as he processed my words. It was as if someone pushed a reset button in his head, because suddenly data started streaming in.
Did I say that? No, you definitely didn’t say that. So, how did she know you thought it? When she said she was like Jean Grey, she meant… No, it can’t be. She couldn’t possibly... But if she can, that means she knows. She can’t know. No one can know.
Ethan began to stand, a look of fear now covering his face.
“Please don’t go,” I begged.
He sat down, but his expression didn’t change. As a matter of fact, he leaned away, as if I were highly contagious.
“Sorry I freaked you out.” Leave it to me to say the wrong thing—again.
“I’mnotfreaked,” he said quickly.
“Listen, I heard you in Coach Green’s office this morning. I know about your… ability.”
“What are you talking about?” His mouth said one thing, his expression said the truth.
“Look, since the school year began, I’ve felt… I’m happy I found someone who is… shall we say special… like I am.” I sounded like a lunatic.
Shall we say special, repeated in my head. Ugh! “I was really hoping you felt the same way.”
“So,” he drew out the word again, “when you say Jean Grey you mean you can… do everything she does?”
“No. I can only read minds. So far, anyway.”
How can she talk likes it’s so normal?
“Oh, believe me, it’s so far from normal it isn’t even funny.”
“Okay, stop doing that!”
“Sorry, it just happens.”
His friends had taken another table and were watching us intently.
“Do me a favor,” I asked him. “Give your friends the thumbs up. They think something’s wrong and are thinking about rushing back over here.”
He glanced in their direction. “What could be wrong?”
“Derrick thinks I might be threatening your life. And Billy—I think it’s Billy—he thinks I’ve just told you I’m pregnant and that you’re the father.”
Ethan laughed out loud at that. I’m glad he decided against drinking his soda, because I would have been wearing it. I was also glad he was getting a sense of humor about all this. “Are you serious?” He looked across at Billy.
“Absolutely.”
Ethan made sure they saw him. Then he gave them a thumbs-up. While he did that, Tommy at the far end of the cafeteria, hadn’t wasted any time reuniting with his two cronies Walter and Sean. They weren’t as big, or as old as Tommy, but they came close.
They were picking on a tiny ninth grader. The kid had to be the smallest person in the whole school. It was like David versus three Goliaths. Only this time, David was being shoved into a garbage can.
I pointed at Tommy. “Why did they let him back in here?”
Ethan looked over his shoulder. The boy was struggling, and looked like he was crying.
“Probably some legal loophole in the education system,” Ethan replied.
Mr. Wexler, one of the math teachers, broke it up. Tommy and his friends ran away, leaving the little boy covered in trash to be cleaned up by the teacher.
“So, how fast can you run?” I finally asked Ethan then hit myself when he tensed again.
He did, however, answer, “I don’t know. My house is about three miles from here and I’ve made it in under a minute.” His voice was so low I had to tap into his mind to hear him clearly. He was afraid someone might catch him.
“That’s fast,” I said.
“That’s very fast.” He seemed offended that I didn’t sound impressed. “The world record for the mile is 3 minutes and 43 seconds. I’ve easily beaten that.”
“Okay.”
“You need to promise not to tell anyone. No one can find out. I don’t want to be dissected in a lab to see how I work.”
“As long as you don’t rat me out, your secret’s safe with me,” I promised.
Ethan began wondering whether he could trust me. He was left undecided, but at least he didn’t distrust me. I would just need to give him reasons to have a little faith in me.
I, on the other hand, was just ecstatic that the whole thing went well. I had talked to Ethan, he’d remembered my name (after today there would be no way he’d forget it), and it didn’t end with either of us running away screaming. Life was looking up.
Until…
“Well, I’ll see you around then.” Ethan waved his friends over.
“That’s it?” I couldn’t believe he was blowing me off.
“I guess. I don’t have anything more to say. We’ll both keep each other’s secret, and that’s all.”
“Oh.” I held back the tears welling up in my eyes. I felt like I had just been dumped.
I got up as his friends returned. Before I was out of earshot, they were asking for details. I didn’t care what told them anymore. I walked back to Tiffany and Sam, who were both eagerly waiting.
Tiffany read the frown on my face. “He shot you down, huh?”
I sighed, a very long sigh. “You could say that.” Then, without any real appetite, I resumed my lunch in silence.
Chapter 7
Surprises All Around
I tried not to think about Ethan, which was next to impossible. As Tiffany pointed out the following Friday at lunch, I still had the biggest crush on him that she had ever seen. Even my parents noticed how withdrawn I became. I had never been offered to go out for ice cream so many times in my life. Ice cream was my dad’s way of trying to comfort me. “No thanks,” I kept saying. “I’m not in the mood.”
“Okay,” my dad would answer, sounding depressed. “Tell me if you change your mind.”
Even though Ethan never really rejected me, it still felt like he’d reached into my chest, pulled my heart out and stomped on it.
Imagine if you had asked him out and he said, no. It would hurt ten times more. I couldn’t imagine being in more pain than I was already.
Mom tried talking to me about it on our rides to and from school. “I swear, Christine,” she told me, “I really don’t understand why you can’t talk to your own mother.”
I glanced at her. For some reason she looked a little nauseous. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand more than you know.” She went on and on about how she’d been dumped by many boys before she met my father. And how, every time it felt like the world was going to end. “But it doesn’t. You move on.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“By the way…” she continued, but I didn’t want to hear any more. She didn’t understand at all.
I had something special inside me. Ethan was the only one who could truly understand what I was going through. But he’d blown me off.
So, I was pretty much a zombie, strolling through the halls of Thomas Jefferson High School. I didn’t even laugh when Peter almost blew himself up in chemistry class when he put too much potassium into a beaker of water.
I cheated on my Edgar Allan Poe test, getting all the answers from Debbie Gallager, the self-proclaimed genius. I felt bad doing it, but knowing I was getting an “A” helped me get over it quickly. The way I saw it was, if I couldn’t help hearing other thoughts, I might as well use it to my advantage.
The following Monday, one week after Ethan rejected me, I stood outside the school waiting for my mom to pick me up. It was the first time she hadn’t been there to get me. I called home. No one picked up. I tried again. No answer. Her cell phone rang three times. I was getting ready to hang up when she answered. “Hello?”
“Mom, where are you?”
“I told you I had a doctor’s appointment. I can’t to drive you home today. Get a ride from somebody.”
“You never told me.”
“I most certainly did, young lady. You were probably dazing again.” She hung up. She didn’t do that unless she was pissed.
The student parking lot was almost empty. The twins were the only friends I had that even had their cars yet. Unfortunately, their twin cars were absent. Great.
Couldn’t she have made an appointment earlier in the day? Now I had to walk home. Just what I needed, more time to dwell on my depressing thoughts. It would take about thirty minutes to get home.
I couldn’t wait to get my car. Five months and counting. Which reminded me, I had to work that evening. I would have to change as soon as I got home to get there on time. I really needed that car.
The sidewalk was lined with trees so thick you couldn’t see the houses on the other side. Only the occasional car passed. Other than the noise from my boots hitting the ground, the only sound was a few geese honking as they flew overhead. If I could head south for the winter, I wouldn’t have to deal with the cold and the snow. But since I didn’t have wings growing out of my back, I had to stay here and tough it out.
The next thing I knew, I was being launched to the ground. My scream was cut short by my face slamming on the sidewalk. He was so quick and quiet, I’d never heard him coming. I picked my face up off the ground and checked the make sure I had all my teeth.
I am going to have such a bruise, I thought.
Then, turning over, I looked up at the blonde boy I’d been thinking about for what seemed like an eternity.
“Ethan! What do you think you’re doing?”
“Scaring you.” He laughed.
I got up and dusted myself off, my insides a flurry of emotions. On one hand, I was thrilled to death he was talking to me, and that he thought we were friendly enough with each other that he could scare the crap out of me. On the other hand, he blew me off when I reached out to him.
I decided I wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily. “What do you want?”
“I’ve been thinking about our talk—”
“Wait a second,” I interrupted. “Shouldn’t you be at practice?”
“I quit,” he said shortly. “I’m tired of Coach Green yelling at me for no reason. Let’s see if they can win without me.”
“You’re not going to play at all?”
What a waste that would be for him, especially since he was probably the best athlete the school had ever seen. Yes, it was because of his powers, but he was just using the advantages that he was graced with.
“No. There’s basketball in the winter, and of course track in spring. I’ll do both. Green won’t be there to pop a blood vessel yelling at me that I don’t try hard enough.”
That’s good. I would really hate to see him quit sports altogether. “So, what about last week?”
I started walking. I couldn’t be late getting home, because then I would be late for work too. Ethan easily kept up with me. “Yeah, so I’ve been thinking,” he began, but then he stopped. He kept thinking, Just say it, over and over again.
“A lot of people do that.” I laid the sarcasm on thick. “Almost everyday. Believe me, I know.”
The comment broke the tension. He let out a low chuckle and then continued, “So, yeah. When you talked about your power, and how you were sort of like Jean Grey, I was thinking… I’m sort of like… The Flash.”
“Okay.” What was he getting at? I knew who The Flash was, and I knew he was supposed to be able to run really fast, but beyond that, not much.
“Well, I mean, they have super powers that make them more than human.”
“Uh-huh. So?”
“They use those powers to help people.”
A light bulb went off in his head. It was a tiny little Christmas type one, but still a light bulb. I hated to do it, but I was about to take a sledgehammer and bash the thing into a million pieces. “Are you insane?”
“Come on, think about it…”
“I don’t need to think about it. This isn’t the comic world. We aren’t superheroes!”
“We could be… could be a partnership. A team!”
He is insane. Get as far away from him as you can. “Whatever happened to keeping this a secret?”
“We can still do that. Haven’t you ever read a comic book? That’s what the whole mask and secret identity thing are about.”
I stopped walking. His facial expression said how eager he was for me to agree to this. There was no way I would. I needed to find a way to let him down gently.
“You are insane!” Way to go, Christine.
His smile faded. A wave of disappointment radiated off him.
“This is the real world,” I explained. “People can’t just jump into a crime scene, break it up and run off without consequences.”
“We could if we didn’t get caught.” His face brightened again.
There was no stopping him. He was determined to save the world. I could see it in his eyes. I read it on his mind.
“Do you have any idea how crazy you sound? I have school. I have work. Even if I wanted to, I don’t have the time to go out and chase bad guys.”
“Clark Kent did it. Peter Parker did.”
Whoever they are. “Ethan, we live in real world.”
“This is the exact conversation a comic hero would have.”
Who would have thought the school’s head jock was a comic book geek? All they were supposed to think about is barbells and girls.
“I give up.” I raised my hands and began walking away.
He was in front of me before I took two steps. I tried to walk around him but he blocked my path. I couldn’t believe he was resorting to such childishness.
“I’m faster than you,” he commented.
“I can melt your brain.”
“But you won’t.”
I debated whether or not to show Ethan his worst fear. Something inside me, however, wouldn’t let me do it. I don’t know why, probably because I still had a giant crush on him, despite the fact that he was an idiot.
“I’m going to be late for work. If you really are as fast as you say, can you at least run me home?”
Something inside his head screamed, No!
“I’m sorry,” I said, thinking I offended him.
“No, it’s all right. I don’t know what will happen if I run with you. For all I know, the speed could rip your skin off.”
“Could?”
“Why take the chance?”
“Well, then at least walk with me.”
“You’re the one who stopped in the first place.”
He remained beside me. Really close beside me. I resisted the urge to grab his hand. It seemed natural, but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t interested in even that small amount of intimacy.
“So, why the sudden turnaround?” I asked.
I didn’t get words so much as an image in his head. Like a news report, of some family’s car that tumbled into a ravine. The broadcaster was saying how they could have been saved if the rescue workers were able to reach them in time.
“Oh.”
“You saw it then?”
I pointed to my head and looked at him. “Mind reader, duh.”
“Oh, right.” Awkwardness radiated from him now. “There’s something like that every night on the news.”
“I know. There is a simple solution though.” I waited for him to say something, but he just stared at me, waiting for me to finish. “Turn on cartoons instead.”
“Cartoons?”
“More entertaining than the news, and just about as violent.”
He laughed. “You’re funny.”
“Wow. I think you are the first person to ever tell me that.” Most people didn’t get it when I joked.
He walked me all the way to my house, which would have been sweet if he wasn’t trying to convince me to be a superhero. The other day he complained about how “normal” I was treating this whole thing. Apparently the tides had turned.
I turned my back on him as I fumbled for my keys. “Want to come in?”
“No, thanks. I should get home. I’m sure I’m gonna hear it for quitting the team.”
“Fun filled afternoon.”
“You know it.”
His eyes were beautiful, deep, round, blue pools of eternity. I felt a connection I had never felt with anyone before. It was like I knew everything about him, yet I hadn’t entered his mind. I felt so at ease with him. The great thing: he felt the same.
“So, are you sure you don’t want to come in?” I asked again.
He stood in silence for a moment, not moving. “Sorry. I have to get home.”
And then he was gone. I don’t mean he turned his back and walked. I mean, there was a gust of wind and he disappeared. He really was as quick as he claimed.
I grabbed the newspaper off the porch and went in, throwing it on the coffee table.
I ran upstairs to change clothes, hoping Mom would be home soon. I needed to be there in a half hour and it was too far to walk to May’s. I didn’t want to call in.
I walked back downstairs to make a snack while I waited for Mom. On my way to the kitchen something caught my eye. I hadn’t noticed the picture on the front of the newspaper. The headline read: Teen’s Car Found In Tree.
Normally, I wouldn’t have given a second glance to anything in the paper, however the picture showed Bruce Matson hanging over a branch. His car was in the tree above him, looking like it had been tied in a knot. I read the article with some small amount of satisfaction, remembering the thoughts running through Savanah’s head last week.
Poetic justice, I thought as I unfolded the paper and read the article.
When Bruce Matson, 17-year old junior at Thomas Jefferson High School got up
Sunday morning, little did he know that he would end his day in a hospital bed.
Reckless driving landed Mr. Matson in the tree on Lucy Parkins front lawn. “Teenagers should have a curfew,” said Mrs. Parkins, 72. Many of her neighbors agree after being wakened by a loud crash at approximately 2 a.m.
“I didn’t know what was going on,” said Rachel Bloom, 42, Parkins’ neighbor. “A loud crash woke me and then I heard some shouting.” When Ms. Bloom went outside to investigate, she found Mr. Matson laying on a branch of the tree, clearly unconscious. She ran inside to call the authorities.
No officials have commented on how Mr. Matson’s car, a 1986 Toyota MR2, got so high in the tree. “He must have been going incredibly fast,”
Mr. Larson, 55 said. “I have never seen a car like that before,” Mrs. Parkins added.
With no explanation forthcoming, it is all speculation at this time.
Mrs. Matson, Bruce’s mother, 40, refused to comment, other than to say that her son was on a date with, Savanah Stephenson. Savanah, 16, and her family have been unavailable for comment.
Authorities commented that Mr. Matson, apparently delusional, claims that Ms. Stephenson was the cause of this accident.
The article went on about how Bruce was responsible, and how his friends have come to visit him already in the hospital. There were more neighbor comments and speculations about how the car ended up in the tree.
What bothered me the most was the comment about Savanah. I wouldn’t have thought she would have gone out with him again. Especially after what Bruce did to her. It didn’t make sense. If it was true, I no longer felt sorry for her. She deserved what she got if she was that stupid.
“I’m glad he got what was coming to him.” I threw the paper on the table. It was almost time to be at work and my mother still wasn’t home. I tried her cell, but she didn’t pick up. I had no choice now. I had to call work.
Mrs. May was less than happy. She thought I should be more responsible and not call in at the last minute. Once again, I wished it was March so I could finally have my car. The only problem was, I needed to work to be able to afford a car. I would have to make a few hours up over the weekend.
About an hour later, my mother finally came home. I heard her thoughts coming up the walkway. She was excited about something, and smiling. Happiness wafted off of her like cheap perfume. What had her so happy?
“What’s up with you?” I asked her in more than a condescending tone. She ought to know of my displeasure with her right now.
“Oh, nothing,” she said offhandedly. She looked like she was in her own little world. Her mind matched, because I couldn’t get a reading on her at all.
“The doctor give you Prozac or something?”
“No.” She looked up the stairs at nothing in particular. She was definitely high on something.
“Okay, Mom,” I said. “What’s going on? You’re kinda freaking me out.”
My zombified mother didn’t answer immediately. She just stared up the stairs for a few moments. Then apparently deciding there was nothing interesting up there set her pocketbook down and went into the kitchen. “When you’re father gets home, dear.”
I probed her mind one last time, but all I saw was our spare bedroom that we used as a computer room. Actually, it was my computer, since both my parents had proven themselves completely illiterate when using it. The only reason they kept it in the spare bedroom instead of my room was so they could monitor what I did on it.
She opened each kitchen cabinet and looked inside a few seconds before closing them. I rolled my eyes. The doctor definitely gave her some drugs. I would just have to wait until my dad got home to find out which ones.
She never mentioned my not going to work. It was pretty much pointless bringing it up. I did my homework, pretty confident I got the answers correct. If I didn’t, I would skim the answers off my classmates’ brains in the morning.
My dad came home about 6:30. Mom announced dinner a few minutes later. I never heard her clanking pots or pans, so I wasn’t surprised when pizza sat on the table.
“Hey, hun.” My dad gave me a peck on the cheek. Then he walked over to my mom and gave her a kiss as well. I knew what he was thinking even before he said, “So, I guess the doctor had good news?” It wasn’t a question, but my mother answered it anyway.
“Yeah,” she said, then looked at me as if finally realizing I was there. “Christine, sit down.”
“Why?” I asked defiantly. She hadn’t done anything for me today, why should I accommodate her?
“Your mother and I have something to tell you.”
“Fine.” I huffed, grabbed a paper plate, slapped a hot slice of pizza on it, and plopped in the seat.
“What has you so riled up, hun?” my dad asked.
“Nothing.” I wasn’t about to explain about having to walk home and missing work. They would tell me I was being selfish. “What’s up?”
“I went to the doctor today,” my mother began, with a big smile on her face.
“I know.”
“Well, I went to the doctor because… well…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t know how I would take her news. But the thought she couldn’t finish speaking continued on in her head. We’re having a baby.
“Oh my God,” I said.
“Yeah.” She was practically shaking with excitement. “You’re going to be a big sister!”
I almost passed out.
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