Super Powereds: Year 1 (55 page)

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Authors: Drew Hayes

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Action & Adventure, #Coming of Age

BOOK: Super Powereds: Year 1
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“That’s... surprisingly sweet-intentioned,” Alice said. “You’re not secretly the shape-shifting kid, are you?”

“Would the shape-shifting kid know you used to have a very well-justified fear of heights?” Nick asked.

“Touché,” Alice said. “I still don’t know how comfortable I am with you pretending to be my boyfriend, though.”

“Look, I’ve already made the play and you went with it. So now we’re either together, or you get to explain how your friend took pity on you and pretended to be your beau to your father and that oh-so-lovely young woman.”

“Damn it. You’ve got a point.”

“Hence why I made it. Anyway, you got anything else? We need to wrap this up and walk back before it seems like we’re up to something,” Nick pointed out.

“There is one little flaw in your plan. We’re going to a business dinner, and you weren’t invited. I appreciate the sentiment, but you won’t be able to tag along once Beth’s dad gets here.”

Nick threw back his head and let out a genuine laugh. “That’s nothing to worry about.”

“Why not?”

“Trust me, I’ll be there at your father’s insistence. Just wait and see.”

“Okay, wow me, jerk,” Alice said with a more sincere smile. “Oh, and one more thing. I like the way you look without your sunglasses.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Nick replied. “But thanks.”

* * *

“Where is everyone?” Mr. Transport asked as he stepped into the living room and once again found Vince sitting by himself.

“Out with parents, or parental figures,” Vince said, mindlessly surfing through channels on the television.

“Ah. I surmise Nick received a surprise visitor?”

“Yeah, a tutor that he’s apparently pretty close to,” Vince replied. “He was really happy to see him, so they went to spend some time together.”

“You didn’t tag along?” Mr. Transport asked.

“Nah. It’s family, and I got the feeling Nick didn’t get to see him much. I wouldn’t have felt right intruding.”

“Very respectable. What will you do instead?”

“Nothing too exciting. I think I’ll go grab dinner at the cafeteria and catch up on some homework,” Vince said, standing from the couch and turning off the television.

“I see,” Mr. Transport said. Those were productive, responsible activities. They were an excellent way to deal with loneliness or boredom. He should retreat now and leave Vince to his plans. He shouldn’t get too involved, after all.

“Vince, your comment about eating off campus got me thinking about how long it’s been since I dined out myself. I’ve got a craving for a delicious sandwich shop I know. Would you care to join me?” Mr. Transport asked.

Vince looked wary. “That’s okay, Mr. Transport. Campus food is fine.”

Of course the boy wouldn’t want to accept pity. Mr. Transport tried to adjust his thinking; what would Mr. Numbers do in this situation? He wasn’t entirely sure what the answer was, but the thought did lead him down the thought path to an excellent solution.

“I understand,” Mr. Transport said. “It’s just that Mr. Numbers is at a meeting and I do hate eating in restaurants alone. I always feel somehow out of sorts, as if I don’t belong as a solo diner. Silly I know, yet the sentiment remains.”

“No, I get that,” Vince said. “I guess I can come along. Eating alone does kind of suck.”

“Much appreciated,” Mr. Transport said. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

“I’ve already got my shoes on, so I guess I’m ready to-” Vince said, then noticed he was standing in the sunshine, white sand beneath his feet and a crystal blue ocean before him.

“-go.”

 

95.

“So how have things been since the holidays?” Mrs. Daniels asked. She and Hershel were sitting in an Italian restaurant a few miles off campus. It was a quaint place with fair prices, good food, and comfortable chairs.

“Not too bad,” Hershel replied. “Roy’s actually been working hard in the combat class.”

“Roy will tell me all about what he’s been up to at length tomorrow, sweetie. I want to know how you’ve been doing.”

“Good, I guess. The classes aren’t bad so far, and there’s this river trip during spring break that looks like a lot of fun.”

“That’s nice. How about with girls? You talked a lot about you friend Mary over the break,” Mrs. Daniels pried.

“Well... we did sort of dance a couple of weeks ago.”

“A nice start. Then what happened?”

“Um, nothing. That was it, we danced a few weeks ago,” Hershel said, suddenly feeling a bit uncomfortable.

“I see.” Mrs. Daniels said. She took a long sip of her white wine. “Darling, you know I don’t want to intrude into this new life you’ve made for yourself, but would you be open to a little motherly advice?”

“...sure.”

“An object at rest will stay at rest. An object in motion will stay in motion, unless it is acted on by an opposing force. Time is a tremendously effective opposing force,” Mrs. Daniels said.

“I’m not sure I follow you,” Hershel said.

“Son, if you have momentum then don’t let time erode it too much. You danced with Mary, and from the smile when talking about it, you took it to have a romantic connotation. A girl expects a little continuation of courting after moments like those.”

“So you’re saying I should have asked her out?”

“I’m simply letting you know what a woman generally anticipates in the courting process,” Mrs. Daniels said with a soft smile.

“Gotcha,” Hershel said. He thought about her advice for a moment. “One thing. Roy never really does that. I mean, he’ll go for days without calling or even responding to the texts of girls he goes out with.”

“What your brother does isn’t really courting. It’s more... well, I can’t think of a polite word for it. Just trust me that I know more about nice girls like Mary than Roy does,” Mrs. Daniels said.

* * *

“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” Mr. Transport said, admiring the blue waves crashing against the sand.

“Actually, yeah, it kind of is. Must be really far, though, given the fact that it looks like noon here and we left at dusk,” Vince pointed out.

“Very astute. We’re indeed some ways from home. Don’t worry, I have no intention of leaving you for any type of trial this time,” Mr. Transport said.

“Glad to hear it,” Vince said, genuinely hoping Mr. Transport was telling the truth.

“I’m sure. The sandwich shop is down the beach a bit. We can walk there in twenty minutes or so.”

“Sounds good,” Vince said. “Just curious though, you’re a teleporter, why not teleport us right to it?”

“Because then we wouldn’t get the experience of walking there,” Mr. Transport said.

Vince cast his eyes out at the ocean once more. He had to admit, he could definitely see the appeal of taking the scenic route.

* * *

“That was delicious,” Mrs. Daniels said, pushing away her plate.

“I told you,” Hershel said. “This place is awesome.”

“It was; you made an excellent choice, dear. After this I’ll sleep like a baby tonight.”

“You’ll need it to keep up with Roy tomorrow,” Hershel said.

“Of that I have no doubt,” Mrs. Daniels agreed. “Speaking of, you boys worked out a schedule, right?”

“Yup. I’m here tonight and Sunday before you leave in the afternoon. Roy gets all of Saturday. It adds up to around a full day each,” Hershel explained.

“Sounds very fair.”

“It is. Roy’s actually been a lot more amiable lately,” Hershel said. “I think the training is giving him a place to take out a lot his... energy.” Hershel narrowly avoided using the term ‘anger’. It seemed closer to badmouthing someone than making a report.

“I’m happy to hear that. I hoped you boys would start getting along again eventually,” Mrs. Daniels said. “Most siblings are friendlier in their older years, anyway. I was counting a lot on growing up to help that process.”

“Might not have been a bad bet.”

“Your mother has her moments,” Mrs. Daniels said. “And I know a thing or two about dealing with strong-willed boys.”

* * *

“You’re right, this sandwich is ridiculously delicious,” Vince said, the cheese oozing down from his first bite and running along the plate.

“I don’t often hop across the globe for poor cuisine,” Mr. Transport said, tackling his own meal.

“Is going farther harder?” Vince asked.

“Not for me,” Mr. Transport said, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve heard others say distance creates difficulty for them, but it’s all the same to me. A mile or on ocean, I go there in a simple jump.”

“That’s weird. I never really thought that people with the same power would function differently,” Vince said.

“It’s a curiosity, I’ll give you that,” Mr. Transport said. “All I’ve been able to figure out is that there’s no such thing as ‘the same power’ among Supers. Vast amounts of similarities, but with subtle differences between them. For example, I once knew a large amount of fellow teleporters. One woman left a shower of sparks when she vanished. One man would appear in a large cloud of dark smoke. There was even a fellow who left the smell of sulfur in the air when he jumped. All the same power in a very technical sense, yet each as unique as the Super that wielded it.”

“I see what you mean. Sort of like how shifting is the most common ability, but everyone shifts into something different,” Vince said.

“And even those who shift into the same basic form have differences between them. Two people who can shift into panther-human hybrids would still look quite different and possess individual strengths and weaknesses.”

“So you’re a teleporter who can go any distance with ease,” Vince surmised. “That doesn’t mean that every teleporter can, though.”

“Precisely.”

“I guess that makes you one of the better ones then,” Vince said.

“I’m okay,” Mr. Transport lied. “There’s always someone better.”

That last part wasn’t a lie, even if Mr. Transport didn’t know it.

 

96.

Nick was charming. Alice had never expected that sort of thought to cross her mind, yet as she watched him schmooze the conversation she had to admit the boy had his smoothness. It wasn’t just that he was knowledgeable on every topic that came up, or that he had an impeccable sense of manners and propriety, or even his effortless likability. It was that he had all those things and understood how to control a conversation. Nick knew the art of not talking.

He spoke infrequently, never interrupting but only interjecting when a lull occurred. He splashed in a few words or a subtle idea and then retreated. It was a series of quick, delicate strikes that gave off the impression of a young man with a competent head on his shoulders who still properly respected his elders. Alice sipped her merlot (she’d been allowed a single glass at dinner since she was a young child), pondering just how it was that someone like Nick could so effortlessly become this amazing guy.

They were in a restaurant that catered to upscale clientele. As such, it was done in very dark, muted colors, lit by a soft glow of light that was just bright enough to see that one’s food was properly cooked. It was a place that was easily missed, even by the locals, holding only a small placard on the door to indicate a restaurant was here. There were no prices on the menus and there was ample dust on the bottles. Alice used to love places like this, and while a part of her was always overjoyed at the prospect of food prepared by expert chefs, she found the atmosphere to be a bit drab. Somewhere amongst the gastrointestinal catastrophes that represented the dorm cafeterias Alice had grown accustomed to a dining environment that was more... lively.

“I must say, Nick,” Mr. Vinders’ voice blurted, breaking Alice’s reverie. “You were quite right about the ‘62 merlot. I’d never ever heard of that winery before.”

“Thank you, sir,” Nick said, dipping his head ever so slightly in a gesture of humility. “It was just some knowledge I gleaned from an old teacher. It seems that particular regions of France experienced exceptional flooding about a year before, leaving it unable to grow or produce until 1962. When they finally did, they discovered that the rain had washed new minerals from a nearby village into soil, leading to exceptional wine.”

“That’s quite the useful knowledge,” Mr. Adair said.

“I’m glad I was able to share it with you,” Nick said with a smile. He raised his glass and did a small toasting motion before treating himself to a sip.

“That’s quite a young man you have there, Alice,” Mr. Vinders said. “I wish my Beth could meet one like him.”


Father!
” Beth hissed. “I’m taking my time in choosing a worthwhile one.”

“You’ve had three years. Alice pulled it off in only one semester,” Mr. Vinders countered.

“I suppose Alice got the only good one,” Beth said, spreading her mouth into a smile while her eyes danced with rage at the happy couple.

“Keep trying. The sooner you get married the sooner you can leave that school. You’ll get yourself seriously hurt one of these days. I’d never have allowed you to attend Lander if I’d known they were letting women in the combat classes,” Mr. Vinders said. Nick began to suspect the large, mustached man had drunk a little too much of the sumptuous merlot. Fortunately, Mr. Adair was certain of that fact.

“I’m sure she’ll meet a kind boy soon,” Mr. Adair said. “Be glad she’s being choosy, though. After all, a man like you would surely reject ninety-nine percent of the boys who would try to date a girl as lovely as your daughter.”

“Quite true,” Mr. Vinders agreed.

“Thus it is both prudent and efficient for her to only bother bringing around the ones who truly have a chance at being worthy of her,” Mr. Adair said. “But I think that’s enough about our daughter’s love lives for the moment. Shall we get down to more immediate matters?”

“I’ve told you already, Charles, I’m not comfortable selling out my company unless I’m certain you won’t go on a firing and outsourcing spree,” Mr. Vinders said, his face immediately growing serious.

“I assure you, the headcount will remain unchanged should your company find itself in my employ,” Mr. Adair said. He reached out onto the table and plucked up a small black menu. “However, I find talks like best done between two gentlemen in solace, save for a good brandy. The immediate business I was referring to was dessert.”

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