Chapter 13

Ray

I shuffled my way to my truck in the parking lot, my football gear in a bag over my shoulder. I glanced back at the practice field, raising a hand to block the light from the setting sun. The assistant coaches had the players running more drills while Coach Jones was watching over Mighty Jaime, the guy that I knocked out. He was conscious now but sitting on the sideline trying to recover. I hope he’s okay, I thought.

I threw my football bag into the back of my truck and climbed in behind the wheel. I didn’t turn it on. I just sat there, stewing over what’d just happened. I was angry. And depressed. And… I don’t know. Was my football career over? This was my dream! To play football professionally like Dad and Garret! Reach the Hall of Fame, even! Football was the whole reason I even went to school. It was the only reason I got out of bed in the morning. And now, I couldn’t play at all because I was… too strong? Too inhumanly strong?

I turned the keys and my truck roared to life. Loud music came on, but I just turned it off—I wasn’t in the mood for music. My truck was low on gas, so I would stop by a gas station on my way home. I hung my head while I drove.

I’d often worried about getting an injury because it would end my season. But, this was worse. With an injury I could heal and eventually return to the field. Not with superpowers, though. I couldn’t heal from this. I’d tried everything I could think of to return my powers back to the space rock, but nothing worked. I was stuck with them.

I pulled into the gas station as warm tears crept down my eyes. I wiped them away as fast as I could, embarrassed, even though no one was looking at me. I fueled up my truck and went inside the gas station’s shop to pay with cash. There was a line. I waited, staring at the floor, lost in thought.

Somebody bumped into me from behind. It was a big guy wearing a green hoody who smelled like a trash can. The bum had cut in front of me! I wasn’t in the mood to be pushed over today. I gave him a shove before he could talk to the cashier, saying, “Watch where you’re going you—”

I gasped as I was suddenly looking down the barrel of a gun. He had a gun! I froze. Some of the people behind me in the line saw his gun and screamed, dropping to the ground. The man in the green hood glared at me. “Back off, kid!” he said menacingly, liquor on his breath. He looked insane, ready to shoot. I raised my hands and stepped back, my heart racing. In an instant, my depression washed away, and I was alert, praying he wouldn’t pull the trigger.

Once he saw that I wasn’t a threat, he turned back to the cashier, pointing his gun at her. “Give me all your money! Now!” She screamed and raised her hands, frightened beyond all reason. “Hurry!” he shouted. She trembled as she tried to open up her register, fumbling to press the right buttons. It popped open and she slowly started handing him money with trembling fingers. The hooded man was impatient. “Faster!” He shoved the gun up to her head. She started to sob uncontrollably.

This was getting ugly fast. It looked like he was on the verge of shooting her. I’ve got to stop him! I thought. But he has a gun, and I’m just a 17-year-old… Then it clicked like a slap to the forehead. I’m a 17-year-old superhuman!

I noticed that my powers were already on, my heart already racing. I guess the thief hadn’t looked at me long enough to see my eyes. I embraced the burning feeling in my gut, letting it spread throughout my body. Everything slowed down around me.

I reached for his gun and I yanked it out of his hand before he could even react. The cashier screamed again. The thief spun around and scowled at me from under his green hood. He had dark skin and a scruffy beard. He reached for his gun, but I easily snapped it in half right in front of him and dropped it on the ground.

He looked down at the broken gun and then back up at me, confused. On a better day, I would’ve smirked at him. But, today, I wasn’t in the mood. I scowled.

The thief turned to run but didn’t get very far. I felt the burning in my gut swell as I pushed him in the back. He soared through the air and smashed through the shop’s window, glass falling everywhere. He landed on the hood of a parked car, denting it, and rolled onto the ground, groaning in pain. I’d pushed him a little harder than I’d expected, but at least I stopped him, right? He was hurt, but still conscious.

The other people in the shop looked at me with awestruck expressions. “Wow…” said the cashier. She was still trembling and crying. She leaned against the counter trying to stabilize herself. All the other onlookers remained speechless.

“You okay?” I asked the cashier.

“I—I think so,” she said.

I turned to the others in the shop. “Has anyone called the cops yet?”

“Yeah,” said a guy outside of the shop, cell phone in hand. He stood next to the car with the dented hood, it was probably his. “I did.”

“How did you do that?” asked a middle-aged woman behind me in the shop.

“I—uh…” Was it that obvious that I had superpowers? I guess I did break a gun in half with my bare hands and then threw a guy through a window, and to top it off… my eyes…. I started to wonder what the cops would think about what I did. Would I have to pay for the broken window or the dented car? Would they figure out I have superpowers? Now I understood why all the super heroes wore masks. “I’ve got to go,” I said.

I hurried out of the gas station, then ran back and dropped off my cash to pay for the gas. The cashier looked confused but didn’t say anything. I started walking to my truck when the guy who had called the police yelled after me. “Hey kid!” he said. “You need to come back here and tell the police what happened.”

I kept walking. “Sorry, but I’ve got to go. You can fill in for me.”

“That’s not how this works, kid. The cops need your witness for—”

I closed my truck door, turned over the engine, and sped out of the gas station. As I pulled away, I could see several cop cars down the street. None of them came after me. I sighed in relief. Why would they come after me anyways? I thought. I’m the good guy.

As I drove home, I realized that I felt better. I wasn’t as depressed as before. I’d helped those people. I saved that cashier’s life. I was a hero. Perhaps my newfound powers stopped my football career, but they may have given me a new one.