by Chara, Mina
I stepped out again, expecting a hotel hallway, but instead I was greeted by a street of small houses set around a faux stone courtyard. Each house was pristine, the stone walls barely weathered. It looked more like the set of a music video than a real street and the floor did nothing to hide the fact that it was part of a building. The courtyard and wood paneling effect seemed more like a resort gimmick than anything else. Small street lamps lit the way, and the door to each house showed its number and the color of the team to which it belonged. I walked further and further, down similar streets of houses, until I found the one that was mine; there was a huge blue patch on the door, my name, and the number six.
I actually found myself liking the faux cul-de-sac as I stepped up to the porch of my miniature house. I could hear banging and rattling, the sound of celebration coming from the other dorm houses. I took a deep breath as I turned the knob, and braced myself for what was inside. I knew the first night was going to be hard. Missing my home, missing my room. I needed to stay calm, make sure I didn’t over react. Why was the idea of sleeping somewhere else so scary, nearly heart attack inducing? Maybe lying down to sleep meant I wasn’t going to catch a train back home in time for sunrise.
I sighed and checked my phone for any messages from my dad or my sister, but they hadn’t so much as texted. The mess of emotions in the pit of my stomach lurched as the door swung open. At least I was living alone and no one else would see me cry. I found myself wishing Jake was there, the one thing I’d brought from home when my dad kicked me out. Inside there was a table for keys, hooks for jackets, nothing exciting. The dorm house was rustic and retro. For a moment I mused to myself about how it wasn’t really my style, only to realize I’d no idea what my style was. Decorating at home had always fallen to me, Dad never cared, and my sister was too young. All I ever did was what the magazines told me; our whole house had been shades of off white, accented with mountains of glass. I sighed as I fell onto the leather sofa. The evening sky was dark, but the lights of the city were so bright you could barely tell.
The kitchen behind me wasn’t as big as back home, but still a good size. I rifled through the drawers, but found nothing much other than basics like salt and sugar, no doubt we were expected to buy our own food and decor as the show progressed. There was a miniature coffee maker, too bad I don’t like coffee. A bread box, four plates and matching flatware. On the center island was a huge basket wrapped in plastic. My eyes lit up like I’d just seen a chocolate store with the sign FREE in the window. A gift basket, a glorious, free, gift basket. Oh man I loved free things. My hands grappled for the scissors on the counter and cut through the plastic like a mad man so I could see all the free stuff!
Inside was a huge bar of chocolate, a set of key rings, some money to get me started, various cookies, and sodas of all sorts. I sifted through it all, setting aside ear buds and a flip phone. The last thing in it was a huge Banoffee Pie. I loved Banoffee pie, it was my favorite food in the whole world. I set it in the refrigerator and picked up the phone. The label on it read, ‘Hero High Communicator’. I opened the phone and found contacts already loaded, and an itinerary set on the calendar. On top of it was a letter, with the title, ‘your mentor’. I opened it immediately. Which poor superhero had been stuck with me for the next four years?
Your sister told me you’re mad about Banoffee Pie, so I wanted to get you one from a bakery downtown, I hope you like it. I look forward to working with you! -Your mentor, Sense.
Sense! Sense had been around for nearly twenty years, she was the longest working superhero in history. Sense was amazing! I scooped up some of the pie, and pulled out the letterman jacket at the bottom of the gift basket. The sleeves were a baby blue, with a space for the team name once I’d decided on it. Although, it wasn’t really a team was it, if it was just me? I loved the jacket all the same.
I kicked my suitcase down the slim hallway towards four doors one of which was labelled with my name. The colors of the room were eye searing; a mess of hot pinks and blues. The room was the epitome of two thousand and five, the walls were covered in ugly decals you might put in a tween’s bedroom. How old did they think I was? I was seventeen, not twelve! I pulled in my suitcase and duffle bag setting them on the bed. The room was snug, but I liked that. The desk was built into two bookcases standing at opposite ends, and the bed sat on the opposite side of the room, covered in furry lilac pillows.
The whole room design was sickeningly trendy, right down to the hot pink shag rug. It screamed ‘designed by a forty year old who thinks they get the youth of today’. The part I liked least was the huge round mirror that engulfed far too much of the room. I started unpacking my clothes, and had moved over to open the closet when I found another message taped to the door. The piece of paper held one word: ‘clothes’. I threw my jacket back onto the bed, and opened the closet. It was full of outfits, all with numbers attached. These were the clothes the stylist had selected. Another piece of paper on the inside read:
Must be worn when called to all TV events. Wear them as they have been numbered, each number corresponding to a matching top and bottom. The clothes you have worn will be replaced at the end of each month.
I turned the page to see a detailed list of the clothes with their prices next to them. Three hundred dollar skirts, thousand dollar jeans, and jackets even I would never be able to afford. The very last page of the letter was advice on what to wear if I wanted to buy clothes for myself, and a comprehensive color evaluation, telling me what colors I should and shouldn’t wear. In bright red letters it said.
NO PALE PINK
I rolled my eyes and put my clothes away in the drawers instead. No one was taking my earrings off me.
A small window led out onto an even smaller balcony since I was right at the edge of the building, but actually, I liked it. I liked how disgustingly trendy the room was too. I’d never set foot in a place like this before, but it made me feel like this was an adventure. I pulled back the white curtain and gazed out into the busy night, watching cars hurry from place to place, seeing the theatre signs as they flashed, watching as the penthouse restaurants sparkled. I’d done it, I was there, in the big city. I could see it all, but for tonight I was safe and sound, bursting with excitement to start the new day, if only I could make the night pass in a flash!
I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t. I was…
Too,
too,
awake.
There I was, still misty eyed, and in my pajamas, but hey I was up and eating breakfast with everyone else in the cafeteria. Actually, I wasn’t the only one in my pajamas; the school wide bell had woken us all up at six thirty, and cameras had come barging into our houses to catch us at our worst. Now the camera crews stayed at the side of the cafeteria, checking their equipment while the producers talked among themselves. Jake sat beside me at our shared table, flashing his handlers badge to everyone that would look. Hero High’s cafeteria was trying to look like a fifties diner, with neon pink lights above our heads, and aqua blue leather booths lining the walls. The checkered floor continued up the stairs and onto the balcony of seats above. The clatter of knives and forks, and the whirring of the air conditioning filled the place with a regular hum of white noise.
“Friday!”
I shook my head and zoned back in. “What is it!?” Jake smiled and grabbed my morning cookie. “Not in the morning Jake, give it back.”
“It wouldn’t kill you to lose some weight. You’re gonna be on TV. Cameras add pounds,” he said patting my stomach. I gave him my most intimidating glare as the other students started to pack up their things. There were times I really hated Jake Jepsen and this was one of them, but hey, no-one’s perfect, and it wasn’t the time to lecture him. He picked up my tray and threw it in the trash. My fists clenched. If Jake Jepsen had been anyone else, he’d have received a swift punch to the groin. I put up with his crap, and he put up with mine.
“That tray was still full,” I said.
; “You weren’t gonna eat it,” he pointed out.
“Still,” I protested, “it was full, and perfectly good. Such a waste.”
“It’s Hero High, they can afford it.”
“Still-“
“Jeez! Let it go ‘Day, look at the rankings.”
He showed me his phone where my photo was displayed along with many others, sitting at 205. I’d gone down five points in popularity and all I’d done was sleep. “I’ve gone down? I haven’t done anything yet!”
“Exactly,” said Jake. “Look around, the other kids are already working the cameras.”
He was right. On every side the new recruits were gushing to the cameras, telling sad stories designed to make strangers care. I gave the phone back and sighed.
“Ask me about my new digs,” he prompted.
“Digs? You mean your room?” I’d been so occupied with myself the question hadn’t crossed my mind and Jake knew it.
“Yeah! Just ask me,” he said.
“Umm, what are your new digs like?”
“Why do you have to say it like that?” he said, laughing, “you sound like a dork. Okay fine, I’ll tell you,” he said as we moved to the elevator and sped upwards, “they’re not as fancy as this, but still, they’re pretty great, and I got this gig working at the snack stall, so I’m pretty nervous about that. Oh, and I met this cute girl.” He stopped, and looked over at me, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Okay?” I said, “so?”
“So, ask me about her.”
I was too hungry too tired, and far too annoyed to oblige. “What’s she like?” I shouted out in exaggerated interest.
Jake smiled as he tilted his head at me, deciding whether or not to call me out on the apparent sarcasm. I smiled back, and he cleared his throat. The story was clearly more important than a lecture. “Okay so get this,” he said moving closer, a spring in his step, “she’s so much fun, she likes comic books, and she’s all like, deep and stuff.”
“Alright,” I said, wondering where this was going.
“And get this,” he said, “she does yoga.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means she’s super flexible,” he said, rolling his eyes at me.
“I still don’t-” I said, shaking my head.
“It’s hot,” he huffed.
“Oh, cool.” After a beat, I reached up to ruffle his hair, and a laugh tugged at his lips. His hand pushed mine away as the elevator doors opened, and I started down the road of dorm houses. “Do you not get that I am a straight female? If you want me to, I can appreciate her aesthetically when and if I meet her,” I told him.
“I get it, I get it.”
I ran into my dorm house, pulled on my clothes, and my letterman jacket. Jake pulled open the door as I stepped out, ready to face the day.
“So, are you gonna ask her out?” I asked him.
“Nah,” he replied, “we’ve got to focus on you. We need to get your ranking up.”
“And how exactly are we gonna do that?”
“I have a plan,” he said with a laugh and wrapped an arm around mine as we walked back to the elevator. “Okay, so I didn’t ask you anything about you, and I took away your breakfast. So, what’s your dorm like?”
“Nice,” I said, wondering if I should have given him a tour. “All the walls are exposed brick, I’ll show you later.”
“I checked ahead to make sure I knew where the classes were.”
“Really?” Even for Jake it was an impressive start.
“Of course, I’m your handler, it’s my job.” He poked at my nose like we were still kids, and handed me my time table.
Breakfast
History class w/ Mrs. Adkins.
[The Pacific Theater During World War II.]
(NO super heroes. We’re not learning about super heroes!)
Social studies w/ Dr. Diamond.
[How to interact with others and charm the cameras.]
(Please refrain from bringing home made super suits to class, and deciding on your own names. It’s just embarrassing.)
Social studies w/ Dr. Diamond. (Double Period)
[Trust exercises, to improve hero team work.]
(It’s not funny when you let your team mate fall. Stop doing that. I’m looking at you Joey.)
Lunch
Gym w/ Coach Flat.
[Sparring, and self defense, aided by Lightning Kid.]
(Get set to get wrecked, tiny adults!)
English w/ Mr. Andersson.
[Continuing with class reading of The Caves of Steel by Isaac Asimov.]
(Jenna, please stop insisting everyone in the book is secretly gay, Elijah has a wife.)
Maths with Ms. Lyngstad.
[How to calculate an agent’s percentage, fees for speaking engagements and merchandise licensing agreements.]
(Stop writing boobs on your calculators. It’s NOT funny.)
End of School Day
I folded it up, and Jake unwound his arm from mine as I joined the crowd of first years, “I’ll see you at lunch.”
I had expected to start class with, well, a class, but, instead I found myself in a large room filled with clothes, makeup, and cameras. Veronica appeared with her assistants, and handed something off to one of them. “Okay kids! Gather round! Your first period starts in an hour’s time, so before that we’re doing all the photography for your debuts!”
One assistant, clipboard in hand, climbed up on a box and shouted out team names. One by one the teams went through hair, makeup, photography, and editing. As each one finished, they were excused, and directed somewhere else, but when my turn came time had almost run out; they slapped concealer on my face, and didn’t bother to change my clothes. They took exactly three photos and the message was clear; I wasn’t worth their time.
Still wiping the makeup off my face I pulled the glass doors open to find all the other students with Captain Fantastic. It took me a moment to remember we’d already met, and there was no reason to be as star struck as I was. His eyes darted through the crowd, and settled on me briefly as he smiled. I resisted the urge to clutch my chest like a tween swooning at the sight of their favorite pop star, and simply smiled back. Almost all the girls were still wearing their professionally applied makeup, not willing to waste the opportunity to look good all day. Captain Fantastic clapped his hands, and everyone turned.
“Hello! Hi. How is everyone? Okay?” There was a general hum of agreement. “Good, good. So, things you need to know. Hero High is a normal school, maths, science, art. You do superhero stuff, after school, on the weekends, and in gym. Variety show episodes are filmed on Saturdays and Sundays. Let me make this very clear,” he said clearing his throat, “your studies are important! Training to be a superhero is not everything! Okay!?” Everyone nodded, and he clapped his hands again. If that was how he felt, then why were we woken up at six, to have strangers take pictures of us? Why have cameras invade our bedrooms? “Great! Then I’ll finish with… Um, hi, I’m Captain Fantastic, and I’ll be your principal for the next four years. Good luck, and off to class with all of you!”
He nodded again, and pointed to the doors as he left. Schedules were handed out along with backpacks which contained everything we could possibly need. Each bag was color coded, and so were all of the utensils. Math class was nothing special, a few heroes taught some of the regular classes. Only Coach Flat taught gym.
By the time lunch rolled up, I was starving. I was so eager I practically ran to the cafeteria. Some of the handlers were already there and eating, there were two cameras, moving through to each table, and interviewing students about their first day.
I covered my face with my bag, as Jake waved me over and handed me a tray. “You’re not gonna tell me to skip lunch too are you?” I asked.
“No. I don’t think you’d get through the day.”
“Nice.”
“What?” he laughed. I nudged him in the side, but he only chuckled.
“Okay, so let me
give you the low down, I’ve been studying up,” he said as we turned round with our plates full, and he passed me his phone. “Checkout the website for the rankings.”
I tapped my way to the Hero High website and found the up-to-date popularity rankings on the front page organized by year. All the new kids sat with their newly assigned teams, getting to know the older members.
“Okay. Team gold: all first years, all groomed beforehand, and not surprisingly, already front runners,” said Jake pointing to the table in the center of the room. Gold team had three members, and they seemed to enjoy each other’s company in a very laid back way. I checked the phone. It already placed two of them at one and two in the freshman year rankings.
“That’s Aya, the guy next to her is David, and the other one is Ashley.”
I bit back the urge to tell him I’d already met Ashley because we hadn’t really spoken, so I looked at the other members. Aya was a tall slender girl, beautiful by any standards, and David was the everyday image of rising star. Broad shouldered and handsome he had the strong ‘superhero’ jaw. Veronica stood behind them, pulling David’s arm over Aya as the cameras faced them and Veronica started the silent countdown. Aya and David looked awkward in each others arms as the camera started to roll.
They smiled and introduced each other as boyfriend and girlfriend before going over their time at camp, and who their parents were. David talked about his dad, who’d retired many years ago, and was now working in the Canadian government. Aya spoke about her mother and father, and their continued humanitarian work. Veronica eventually nodded, realizing she wasn’t going to get a sob story out of them, and asked them for a quick kiss on camera. Aya declined, saying she’d just eaten a slice of garlic pizza, which made everyone laugh as the camera moved on to Ashley. Veronica took a seat behind the camera and slung question after question at Ashley, as though she didn’t know what to do with him. She asked him if he had famous parents, he said no. She asked him what made him special enough to be the captain’s mentee, he said he didn’t know. She asked him if he had his eye on any of the girls in his class, he said he was focusing on his studies. Veronica was losing her patience. I turned to Jake as we stepped away from the food line, and he muffled his laugh.
