“Of . . . Superhuman Development?” Alec repeated, stunned.

“Of Superhuman Development,” Headmistress Lewis said calmly.

“But . . . why would an organization like that be interested in —?” Alec cut himself off abruptly, his eyes wide. “Does she — is she saying I'm a superhuman?” he gasped, turning to face his parents.

Mr. Michaels nodded very slowly.

“What?”

“Oh, I'm so sorry, Alec!” his mother cried suddenly, tears pouring down her face. “I h-hoped that it wouldn't come to this — that you could live a normal life —”

“Normal?” Alec was suddenly on his feet, though he could not recall standing up. “What do you mean, ‘normal’? So you two are —?”

“No,” Mr. Michaels sighed. “No, son, we're not like you. Your grandfather — your mother's father, that is — he was. He was a superhero of old, Dogma, he was called.”

“Grandpa Harold, a superhero?” Alec said with a snort of disbelief. You expect me to believe that he went out, stopping crime and fighting supervillains, when he couldn’t even open a pickle jar by himself!”

“Ah, yes, I almost forgot that little ruse of his,” Mr. Michaels said, a gleam of reminiscence lighting his dark eyes. “Was always funny, really, seeing that one of his powers was enhanced strength.” He chuckled.

“But —”

“Mr. Michaels, please!” Headmistress Lewis said sharply. “We're getting off track!”

“Eh? Oh, right — sorry.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Anyway, yes, Alec, your grandfather was a superhuman, as hard as it is to believe. He possessed what's known as the Deva gene. It's a genetic mutation that can be passed down through blood, and which grants the carrier of the gene the potential to develop superpowers. In quite a few cases, the gene will lay dormant throughout most, if not all of a person's life. In others, however, under certain circumstances, the gene can be activated, and certain abilities will manifest in the carrier. Jumper here has informed us that you — er — caused an earthquake tonight, after witnessing a villain nearly impale Dusty? Well, I imagine that . . . that might have been your Deva gene activating.”

Alec did not respond. He was still gazing, stunned, at his parents. The revelation that his frail-looking grandfather had been a superhuman, the confirmation that he himself was one and that the earthquake was not, as he had foolishly, desperately hoped, a mere, extremely random act of nature, the sudden arrival of representatives from a school for superhumans apparently come to claim him — it was all too much. He sank onto the couch beside Dusty, who had not spoken all this time, but was merely directing curious glances towards various people in the room, his mouth hanging open.

Now, however, his light blue eyes found Alec, but still he did not speak. A short silence stretched on, one that Alec had no trouble letting billow as he tried to make sense of everything being said. But then Mrs. Lewis cut in.

“Well, if I might speak now,” she said. “Mr. Michaels, to add on what I told you earlier, I am from the board of Helix Academy, an institution established for the education, pacification, and guidance of young superhumans, such as yourself. To teach them how to use their abilities, and how they can safely integrate back into society. We also offer a more productive program — the opportunity to use your gifts to aid in the never-ending conflict between — oh, it sounds so silly saying it out loud, but — good and evil.

“That is, the opportunity to gain a position in the Hero League, as full fledged superheroes. Jumper here was educated at Helix as well, and now he's one of the League's most prominent charges.” Behind her back, Jumper flashed them a crooked grin. “I myself studied at Helix, and so, unless I'm much mistaken, did your father?” she asked Mrs. Michaels.

She nodded, tears still glittering in her large, dark brown eyes. Mrs. Lewis then turned back to Alec, a wide, self-satisfied smile stretching her dark-toned lips.

“You want to recruit me?” Alec said quietly.

She frowned slightly. “Well . . . the Hero League is always keen on welcoming new, bright faces, of course, but ultimately, the decision to apply for, or accept, a position is your choice. At Helix, you would have your skills and powers categorized, and placed under the care of teachers deemed most capable to deal with you. Surely, you must understand that you cannot be allowed to remain in modern society as you are?” she added bluntly. “I mean no offense, I'm merely stating what is best for both you and those around you.

“As it is, you have only just discovered your abilities, and as such have very limited control over them. From what I've heard and seen for myself, you did quite a bit of damage downtown. No need to explain, or to apologize,” she went on calmly as he opened his mouth to protest, though he was unsure what he was going to say.

“I quite understand, we all do, and for that reason the League will take care of all damages. Many of us, even members of the League, have been where you are. Some of them, as I've said, learned control at Helix. Others managed to figure out their conditions themselves — impressive feats, though they took many years and countless accidents before they did so. The remainders were taught by older family members or friends. At this point, your only experienced relative has already passed away, and with such destructive powers you have neither the time nor the opportunity to deal with your situation yourself. Your best hope is at Helix. We've already spoken to your parents, and while there have admittedly been a few hedges here and there” — she shot them both a very nasty look — “they understand that it is currently the best thing for you.

“Once again, it is ultimately your decision whether or not you choose to go. But, speaking from an unbiased perspective, I must tell you that there is only one correct choice here. I shall give you” — she stood up and consulted her watch — “fifteen minutes to make your choice. Then I will return for your answer.” She nodded at everyone in the room and swept away with Jumper and her bald companion.

Alec heard the front door close, and at that very moment, both his parents burst into speech:

“Oh, Alec —”

“We're so sorry, we should have said —”

“Is all of this true?” he asked, cutting coolly through the tide of chatter. “That if I don't go with them, I could end up hurting people?”

They exchanged looks. Then slowly, very slowly, Mr. Michaels nodded.

“Why didn't anyone ever tell me?” he demanded angrily, springing to his feet and glaring at his parents. “You didn't think it was important enough to mention that I could develop powers at any old moment?”

“Not any old moment, Alexander,” Mr. Michaels said, his voice rather shaky. “That's now how the Deva gene works — or rather, not usually how it works. There have been cases like that, but in most, the gene is activated by what is commonly referred to as a Trigger Moment.”

“A what?” Alec asked blankly.

“An experience where the carrier of the gene feels a powerful rush of emotion — whether fear, anger, despair — it could be anything at all, in the most extreme proportions. When Jumper told us of what happened tonight, it became clear to us at once what your Trigger Moment was. The shock, the terror you felt when Dusty was in danger. That was what activated your Deva gene.”

“But you had to have known something like this would happen,” Alec persisted. “People go through stuff like this all the time!”

“Yes, but,” his mother began desperately, “the Deva gene doesn't always activate, even in life and death situations. Mine didn't! We thought that — if we just kept you safe and healthy, you wouldn't have activated yours either and you could live a normal life!”

Alec frowned; at her words, something had suddenly become clear. “That's why you've been so strict on curfew recently, isn't it? To prevent something like this from happening?”

They nodded again. Alec sighed and plopped himself back onto the couch beside Dusty, who was still silent.

“And I was out, looking through comic books,” he said bitterly. “If I'd listened to you we would have been back home, and . . . none of this . . . Mom, Dad, I'm sorry.”

“No,” his father said, shaking his head. “Don't be. Something like this was bound to happen eventually. We were foolish to think we could prevent it. We should have told you about it long ago. We’re the ones who should be sorry.”

He gave them a weak smile, but then frowned again. “But . . . what do I tell her?”

He saw them exchange looks yet again. Then his father sighed. “That's not our decision to make,” he said heavily. Alec turned instead to Dusty.

“What do you think?”

“Me?” Dusty said quietly. “Well . . . of course I think you should do it!”

“What?” Alec said, taken aback.

“This is an opportunity of a lifetime!” Dusty said, grinning broadly. “You could be on your way to becoming a real superhero! Besides, you heard what Mrs. Letterman said, you could hurt someone if you don't. A while ago you said you had no chance to learn because there wasn't a Hogwarts for heroes. Well . . . congratulations” — he put on a deep, gravelly voice — “yer a hero, Ally!”

They both burst into fits of raucous laughter; even his father chuckled, and his mother gave a watery smile. But then the door reopened and the three heroes entered the room, which wiped the smiles from their faces.

“Well?” Mrs. Lewis said sharply.

Alec looked around at everyone in the room, at his grim-faced father; his tear soaked mother; and his best friend, who gave him an enthusiastic nod, though Alec could see a glimmer of hurt in his eyes at the prospect of Alec leaving. He was silent for a few seconds, then he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and turned to Mrs. Lewis. “I accept,” he said firmly. “I'll go to Helix.”