by Drew Hayes
“A fair point. I would still like to know what we’re doing here, though,” Mary said.
Hershel held out his hand. “By all means.”
Mary slipped her smaller digits into Hershel’s and the two began walking toward the water.
* * *
“This place is so pretty; it reminds me a lot of the woods near where I grew up but I mean, obviously smaller, and not as woodsy, but I still like it,” Bubbles said. She and Nick had finished dinner and were walking through a local park. Unlike Hershel, Nick hadn’t put a tremendous amount of effort or thought into his post-dinner activity.
“I’m glad you enjoy it,” Nick said. “I come here when I’m feeling particularly far from home or thoughtful. The sounds of nature always makes me feel centered.” Nick deftly avoided tripping over a small bump in the worn dirt path. Between the unfamiliar terrain and those stupid sunglasses he was having a hell of a time not tumbling all over the place. In retrospect, he was glad he’d made a trip here the day before to ensure the park was well lit and fit within the desired aesthetic parameters. If it were any darker he’d have to shed his shades.
“Oh my gosh that is so deep. I wish I did stuff like that but when I get bored I just go out to the club with L-Ray or play racquetball or make pasta or watch TV or-”
“We all have our own ways of dealing with stress,” Nick assured her. He had already learned the same lesson many had before: when it came to Bubbles, one had to own the conversation or it turned into a monologue. “There’s not a better or worse. It’s like people, we’re all unique, but that doesn’t make anyone superior. Just different.”
“I can see that,” Bubbles agreed. “Talking about different, though, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Not to pry, and if it’s something serious like a scar or something I am sooooo sorry, but I’m really curious and I want to know and not that they don’t look great on you cause they totally do, but why do you wear sunglasses all the time?”
Nick weighed his options. He had a few standard lies he used depending on the person asking. For Bubbles one of the less complex answers was likely the best route to take.
“My eyes have a photosensitivity condition,” Nick told her. “It’s not a big deal, but it means I get some pretty bad migraines if the light isn’t dimmed and filtered. My lenses stop that from happening.”
“That totally sucks, were you born with that or did something happen?”
“Born that way,” Nick explained. “Like I said, it isn’t really that big of a deal. I can take them off if the occasion demands, I just leave them on as a general rule for my own comfort. Besides, after all these years my glasses feel like a part of me.”
“I totally get that, I mean, I wore the same shoes for three years and they were just, like, a part of my life and when they finally fell apart I didn’t know what to do and I went barefoot for like a week before I could finally feel comfy in new ones. They look good on you, though.”
“Well then, it’s a win all around,” Nick replied. He hopped at the last second to dodge a dip beneath his foot. Maybe he should have picked a slightly easier-to-navigate terrain.
* * *
The sea sprayed upward, leaving a fine mist in the air that lingered on Hershel and Mary’s skin.
Mary let out a delighted squeal as the winter water touched her face. Her body was wrapped in a protective poncho that Hershel had stashed in Nick’s trunk, keeping her clothes safe from soaking. She’d left the hood down, though, preferring to feel the air run through her locks, absolutely wrecking the style Alice had worked so hard to craft.
Hershel adjusted their course slightly, moving toward a calmer patch of water.
“I still can’t believe I never knew you sailed,” Mary said, adjusting her grip on the bow of the small boat Hershel had procured.
“My mom taught us when we were younger. Lake Michigan was a nearby and we’d spend our summers out on the water,” Hershel explained. “It was always made me feel great, so the first week we were here I looked up a place I could get on the water if I needed to.”
“And this is the first time you’ve used it?”
“Second,” Hershel said. “I came out here around our third week in, when things were getting really stressful. After you put Roy in line, life got a lot more manageable, though, so I haven’t needed it.”
“I think I’d be out here quite a bit, need it or not,” Mary said, a wave knocking against the side and shifting her balance.
“Yeah, I thought the same. But things get busy, and time slips away from you,” Hershel sighed.
“I’m glad you took me out here tonight,” Mary said, looking over at him.
Hershel knew a goofy grin was splitting his face, and he sincerely did not care. He looked back into the amber eyes that he’d been unable to get out of his mind since his first day at Lander.
“I wanted it to be a special night,” he said.
“Mission accomplished,” Mary replied, an equally silly smile on her own face.
107.
Hershel and Mary were the first ones back. They still smelled of salt and were lost in a conversation that had been uninterrupted for the past hour when they stepped into the Melbrook common room.
“So, I guess this is good night,” Hershel said, realizing there wasn’t much of a dropping off at the door opportunity.
“Looks that way,” Mary agreed. “I had a really good time.”
“Me, too. Would you be interested in doing it again sometime?”
“I think you’ll find me receptive to the idea,” Mary said.
“How’s next weekend work for you?” Hershel asked.
“Not great,” Mary said.
“Oh. What’s wrong with it?”
“Just seems like an awfully long time to avoid you,” Mary pointed out.
Hershel chuckled. “Okay, okay, you got me. Guess we’ll be seeing each other tomorrow and Sunday. I’m not sure how to really proceed from here. I’m sort of new at this.”
“I wasn’t exactly prom queen myself,” Mary said. “I think we should try to do more nights like this, where it’s just us and we have the romance and all, and then the rest of our time together is just that. Time spent together.”
“Sounds good,” Hershel said. “I think this might be one of those things we’re supposed to figure out as we go along.”
“It’s to my understanding that that’s supposed to be part of the fun,” Mary said.
“Then I’ll look forward to it.”
“That makes two of us. Good night, Hershel.”
“Good night, Mary,” Hershel replied. He very much wanted to kiss her in that moment, standing there in their dorm common room, the memory of the ocean still fresh in their minds. Instead he pulled her in closer and squeezed her tightly into a hug. Roy would have gone for the kiss, of that Hershel had no doubt. But Hershel wasn’t Roy, and tonight, for the first time in a very long time, Hershel was happy about that fact.
They released each other and parted, going back to their respective sides of Melbrook and into their rooms. Mary was surprised not to find Alice waiting to hear all about the night out. Had she been less preoccupied through the week and kept better tabs on Nick, then Alice’s absence might have been anticipated. As it was, Mary went into her room and reluctantly headed for the shower. Much as she loved the smell of the night ocean on her, it was hardly hygienic to go to sleep with so much salt on the skin.
* * *
Nick and Bubbles arrived about an hour after Hershel and Mary.
“This place is really nice!” Bubbles remarked as they entered the common room. “And there’s only, like, five of you? That is so cool, how did you swing getting into a dorm like this?”
“Just good luck,” Nick told her. “As I’ve heard it was originally built for faculty; however, they weren’t so receptive to living on campus with students, and, well... waste not, want not.”
“Still, it’s super nice. I mean, I
love living with L-Ray and all, but you guys actually have a kitchen. Plus it’s so secure and off on its own, it’s, like, a totally different world and ugh now I am so jealous,”
“This is just the central area. Maybe next time I’ll show you what the rooms look like,” Nick said.
“Next time?”
“Assuming you want to see me again, yes.”
“Oh yeah, I totally want to see you again, what are you doing tomorrow?”
Nick laughed. “The rest of my weekend is sadly already spoken for by homework. I’ll call you later in the week and we can work out the best time for us to go out.”
“Sounds awesome!” Bubbles said. She then realized the level of her volume and the lateness of the hour and dialed it down a few degrees before she spoke again. “Tonight was really nice. Thank you for taking me out.”
“Thank you for being my company. And driving,” Nick added on.
“I guess I should be getting back then.”
“Indeed, but we’ll talk soon.” Nick assured her. They walked back out the front to the front door, which Nick graciously held open for Bubbles. Once they were in the brisk night air, she turned around to thank him one last time. Before she had the chance, Nick’s hand ran lightly up her cheek and behind her ear, drawing her face close to his. The kiss caught her by surprise for a moment, then she melted into it.
They broke apart eventually, Nick planting a final kiss on her cheek, as if he was signing his name.
“See you soon,” Nick said, pulling away.
“Mmmhmmm,” Bubbles replied, her tongue still adamant about staying in make-out mode and not surrendering itself back to the mundane task of talking. In this Nick had accomplished something a multitude of teachers, parents, and friends had failed to accomplish. He’d rendered Bubbles speechless.
Nick stepped back into Melbrook and shook himself a bit mentally. It’d been a while since he had physical contact with a beautiful woman, and the first time he’d ever done so in his current persona. He should have held back a bit more. This Nick shouldn’t be quite so adept a kisser. He made a mental note for next time. It would likely be all right. If his skill level decreased Bubbles would almost certainly just assume her memory of the first kiss was rosily remembered due to the hormone cocktail most people knew as romance.
He walked down the hall and stepped into the empty common room once more. All in all the night had gone well. The girl never stopped talking, but Nick had excellent selective attention so he’d manage to stave off annoyance most of the evening. She provided excellent visual stimulation as well, to which he was never averse. Most importantly, Alice was nowhere to be seen, meaning she had either gone to bed or was talking with Mary. Either way, she wasn’t concerned with Nick Campbell, which was precisely how he wanted it.
Nick opened the boys’ side door and stepped in, greeted by Hershel and Vince, who were already discussing Hershel’s date. The door swung shut behind him on the common room, now empty once more.
* * *
On this particular occasion (and countless other, less relevant, ones before it), Nicholas Campbell was wrong. Alice Adair was neither asleep, nor talking with Mary, nor even in Melbrook at all. She was currently floating high above the Lander campus, clad in an enormous jacket, ski pants, and face mask to protect against the cold and the wind.
She’d dipped down momentarily when he and Bubbles had come home, not enough to make out words to but enough to see the show. She’d also seen Mary and Hershel arrive earlier. She thought about how she should probably be down there, talking with Mary and making sure everything had gone okay. She would do all that, too. She would just do it tomorrow. For right now Alice was floating through the air, truly enjoying her power for the first time since she’d gained control of it.
In a way it was a surreal experience. When she was Powered, happiness had always been what sent Alice airborne. Tonight, though, she was melancholy. Everyone was hooking up and becoming romantically involved, yet she was lagging behind. There was a fear snaking through her heart, one that said at this pace she’d find herself alone once more. She tried to calm it away, but it was persistent. It reminded her that even Nick had met someone. If he could get a date then it was only a matter of time until everyone was caught up in their budding romances. So she’d decided to get out of the house. Normally this would involve a drive down the highway. Tonight, though...
Alice rotated slowly in the air, staring up at the nighttime sky. It was breathtaking, the vastness of space made all the more real by the empty air beneath her. It was both humbling and inspiring. Alice drank it in, letting the wonder suffuse her. She knew she had to go in eventually, and she would. She’d shower to warm herself up, sleep late in the morning, then take Mary out for a girls’ breakfast to hear all about the night. She’d face her slowly-growing fear of solitude by strengthening the bonds with those she found herself caring for. She would tackle everything facing her.
Just not this moment.
108.
Monday, as the freshmen finished their first two hours of gym, the combat class began heading toward the stairs while the alternative class moved to the empty side of the room. This had been their pattern since the new system began, so it was a surprise when Coach George moved between himself and the doorway to the stairwell, instead waving the students back.
“Not today, you little eager beavers,” Coach George said. “Line up with the alternative class.”
The students exchanged a few confused glances, but by this point Coach George’s most important lesson (Do what you’re freaking told and shut up) was starting to stick. They jogged over and lined up alongside the rest of the class.
“Today we’ll be introducing you to another kind of training, this one useful to Supers of all types,” Coach Persephone said once everyone was in place. “We’re going to work on ranged techniques. Expect to do this about once a week, though the exact day will be changed as George and I deem necessary.”
“Now,” Coach George said, stepping forward and taking over. “Some of you have powers that lend themselves to ranged attacks, some of you have powers that will lend themselves to it with a little teaching, and some of you have jack shit in that department. We’ll be splitting you into three-man teams based of which of these groups you fall into and getting you going in shooting range rooms. We won’t be supervising much, because this part is really simple. There will be targets. You will shoot said targets. New targets will lower, rinse and repeat until we come for you. Get into your teams as I call your names.”
The class barely had time to glance at their friends before Coach George’s barking voice filled the air.
“Smith, Griffen, Riley!”
Mary, Alex, and Adam all hustled toward the area and stood in a trio.
“Reynolds, Dixon, Wells!”
“Campbell, Reid, Weaver!”
And so it went until everyone had been crammed into a three-man unit, after which the coaches led them down the stairwell to a new level. This one looked like nothing so much as a honeycomb of rooms. At each room a team was deposited with the same instruction: “Find the weapon that works best for you, shoot as many targets as you can, don’t stop until we come get you. You’re being watched.”
The rooms were stocked like a riot control officer’s wet dream. All variety of pistols loaded with rubber bullets, shotguns equipped with beanbag rounds, even a net cannon leaning in the corner. There were weapons of more lethal force as well, everything from throwing knives to hatchets. Most curious were the items that seemed to have no place in these rooms at all, like the sack of steel ball bearings or the roll of cloth bandages.
As for the targets, they amounted to what seemed like a very in-depth, well-funded carnie game. The targets popped out periodically from a shifting spectrum of cardboard buildings that acted as cover. The lights would pulse when a shooting session had commenced, alternating between blinding flashes and utter darkness. There would be minute-long breaks between these periods when re
loading was expected to occur. The situation as a whole was frustrating, annoying, and left most of the students with a headache that would persist for the remainder of the day. The exercise bore fruit, though, as some discovered they had talent in this new form of battle, while others were finally able to showcase the skills they’d already developed.
* * *
“Booyah!” Allen yelled, a bolt of green energy leaping forth from his hand and exploding against the cardboard cutout of a shadowy villain. Small burning chunks rained down on where the poor target had once stood, the only remnants of an inanimate object taken before its time.
“Not bad,” Amber admitted, stepping up to the front. “But still amateur hour. Watch how it’s done.” Amber closed her eyes and raised both hands, her middle fingers pressed against her thumbs. Her lips pursed and a low, almost undetectable whistle leaked out. The lights could flash all they wanted; Amber didn’t need her eyes to make these shots.
From Vince’s perspective, what happened next was inexplicable. Amber was still for a moment, then she began snapping her fingers on both hands. With each snap another target, often barely emerged from its cover, would explode into pieces. The lights stopped flashing after a mere twenty seconds of this, presumably because the system had to load more cutouts for them to shoot at.
“Wow,” Vince said. He’d assumed he would be paired with other Supers sporting ranged abilities, but he hadn’t imagined he’d see anything like that.
“Respectable,” Allen said grudgingly.
“Thank you, thank you,” Amber said, opening her eyes and taking a few bows. She then glanced back at the wreckage that remained from her assault. “Sorry about that, Vince, didn’t mean to hog your turn.”
“I think it’ll be okay,” Vince said. “I’m sure there’s plenty more where that came from. I have to ask, how did you do that?”
“Ranged is sort of my thing,” Amber said excitedly. “I control sound waves, and those can be deadly, even over a distance.”
“Hang on,” Allen said, stepping up. “You’re telling you did all that with sound? I call bullshit, I didn’t even hear anything.”
