My So-Called Superpowers

by Heather Nuhfer

  The gym was dark and strange at night. I flipped on the light switch, which made a heavy industrial click, much louder than the light switches at home. The large overhead lights flashed on with a buzzing sound I had never noticed before.

  “Hello?” I said just to make sure I was alone.

  Nothing.

  I opened the supply closet, which Charlie had helped me fill with my supplies before he decided he hated me forever. It was packed with what an uninformed stranger might think were the remnants of a Halloween party at a dude ranch.

  I dragged all that crap out of the closet and got to work on the main banner. It was a rather mammoth undertaking. Rolled into all the other things I had agreed to do, I had said yes to a banner that read HAY IS FOR HORSES & BLOOD IS FOR VAMPIRES!

  It was one of what I had started to see were many poor decisions. For one thing, the banner would need to be about the length of a whole gym wall!

  Just outlining the letters took a few hours and really hurt my knees. I chugged down yet another soda and tried to pump myself up: “Come on, Veronica! This is going to be amazing! You and Blake are going to dance under this banner!” It worked, at least for a bit, and using the wrestling mats to kneel on was a pure-genius move, if I do say so myself. But about halfway through the coloring phase, I began to really struggle. And by “really struggle” I mean I fell asleep, face-planting right into some wet paint.

  So tired. So very tired …

  * * *

  When I woke up, the morning light was hitting me directly in the face. Schnitzel! I bet Dad was freaking out. It was Tuesday morning and I had been at school all night. My phone was dead. I’d have to get my charger from my locker. And I had slept through valuable decoration-making time.

  After wiping my drool off the wrestling mat, I made my way to my locker. No one was at school yet, but they soon would be, and I needed to make myself look like I hadn’t slept here. I yawned. Oooof! And I needed to find some mints. ASAP!

  Once my phone had a little juice, I saw an onslaught of messages from Dad. I sent him a text telling him I was sorry and explaining that I had fallen asleep in school. His response: Don’t get another detention. Man, he was still really mad at me.

  By the time everyone was at school, I felt like I had done a decent job of disguising my day-old ick. I covered up my top with my trusty old hoodie and still had a knit hat from winter jammed under my overdue library books. I would be hot, considering it was about seventy degrees outside, but at least no one would see my greasy hair.

  The rest of the day was a lot busier than I imagined. My frazzled brain couldn’t take much more. I was so happy when the bell rang, even though it meant I had to run immediately to the bloodsucking horses and switch my booty into hyperdrive. Getting all the decorations done by the next night was going to be nearly impossible, but I knew I could do it. I had to do it. There really wasn’t much of an option at this point; if I didn’t get it done, it would be an instant sentence to life in captivity, or, at least, high school at the loser table. Blake told me I was cool. Nothing, let me repeat, nothing was going to mess that up.

  * * *

  Waiting for me in the gym was Jenny and the rest of the SFC. I was really happy to see them (and hoped they had come to help) until I saw Jenny’s expression.

  “What’s your deal, Veronica?” Jenny screeched.

  “What’s up, guys?” I smiled at them weakly. “I know I’m a little behind, but it’s cool! Don’t worry, the gym will blow your minds when I’m done.”

  “And you think you deserve to be one of us?” Jenny hissed. “You’d better pray for a miracle in the next twenty-four hours, Veronica.”

  Jenny stomped out of the gym, leaving scuffmarks and a very upset me in her wake. The others followed. Kate gave me an apologetic glance before she left and Keesha whispered, “I told you she couldn’t handle it.”

  Twenty-four hours. Hearing it laid out like that, I realized how much I had left to do.

  I was in full panic mode now. Who could I call to help? No one. I mean, really—no one. No one was speaking to me. Not Charlie, not my dad, certainly not the SFC. I couldn’t ask Blake to help. How pathetic would that look? Besides, I wanted him to be wowed by all the work I had done, too. At school I was pretty much only friends with Charlie. I really didn’t know anyone else. Except …

  * * *

  “See how I made the feng shui work here?” Ted mused as he helped me hang the banner during lunch. He was more than happy to help, telling me it was like “dollars in the karma bank.” I worried getting Ted past the janitor would be hard, but it turns out the janitor filled up a “Pretzelentologist Frequent-Biter Card” every single week over at the pretzel stand. (For the record, that means ten pretzels a week.)

  Ted had saved my butt by bringing leftover and frozen pretzels to help me fill the gaps in my food plan. I had baked and chopped vegetables and smooshed guacamole for most of the night, but the pretzels would ensure no one would have to dance hungry.

  “Man, I have some great memories of this place,” he said.

  “I went to school with your dad,” he said as I climbed down the ladder.

  “High school, too.” He paused to think. “He had some serious qi problems.”

  He must have seen the look on my face.

  “Qi. It’s like your life energy,” he explained.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, my dad can be a little intense.”

  “That is also true,” Ted agreed as he got ready to leave.

  I had another question. “So, did you ever meet my mom?”

  Ted nodded. “Sure did. We were lab partners senior year.”

  “Strange question: Do you think she was dangerous? My dad said she was.”

  “Nah.” Ted scratched his head, mussing up his shaggy hair even more than usual. “Some people, though, have a hard time with ‘weird.’ Change freaks them out.”

  Dad did have a hard time when things didn’t go according to plan. “But that doesn’t mean weird is bad or dangerous.”

  “Of course not,” he agreed. “Weird is wonderful. It makes the world go round.”

  It might have been a sign of my impending nervous breakdown, but that sounded comforting. Maybe Dad had just decided weird was bad. It didn’t mean Mom was actually dangerous. It didn’t mean I was dangerous. There was hope.

  And this dance! It was really starting to shape up and look like “Equestrian Gothic.” For real. I had taken a few artistic liberties that I was pretty darn proud of. The mash-up of horses and vampires came together in a Victorian theme with some Dracula-esque touches. Horses with red eyes pulled carriages. I’d spray painted bales of hay black and set up serving bowls of chips and pretzels in upside-down top hats.

  A giddy rush swept through me, and my powers created a small fireworks show over my head. Luckily, Ted was too busy to notice, and I was able to make them quickly disappear.

  “Thanks for the help, Ted!” I went to high-five him, but instead he offered his usual little bow. I course-corrected and pretended to adjust the collar of my shirt before quickly bowing back.

  “Namaste, little bird. Looks like you have elsewhere to fly.” He pointed toward the back wall. Betsy was helping tear down the art show. I had been so busy I had totally forgotten the art contest winners had been announced. I could see a blue ribbon hanging from each of Betsy’s entries—first place in both categories. Ms. Brannon loved realism, for sure. Betsy caught my eye and smirked while patting her pocket with the memory card in it—clearly to remind me she still had photos of me mid-stupidpower. Great. That was another thing to worry about tonight. Bleh.

  I watched Ted shuffle out the gym door, and then I took a moment to appreciate how freaking cool the gym looked.

  The whole theme was very mysterious, which I thought would play well. Still, I was a little nervous through the rest of the school day, right up until the big truck of flowers arrived a few hours later. The delivery people loved my decorations. They called them
unique and creative. The lady even said that she wished her school dances had been this cool.

  My pride instantly took a blow when Jenny and Keesha decided to pop their heads in and see how things were going. Jenny didn’t look nearly as impressed as I hoped she would.

  “It’s all right, I guess,” she said.

  “Are you kidding? It’s amazing!” Keesha said. Jenny gave her a death glare.

  “I worked really hard on it, so I hope you like it.” I genuinely meant that.

  “Well, it has my name on it, so I better like it,” Jenny sneered.

  “Excuse me?” On the other side of the gym I saw Betsy perk up. I’m sure she was loving this.

  “I am the leader of the Ests, Veronica. I make or break the SFC and that includes you.” Jenny strutted out of the gym. Keesha rolled her eyes and followed her.

  I looked back at Betsy, but she’d bolted. I noticed there was still one piece of paper hanging on the wall where the art show had been. Walking over, I saw that the paper had been folded in half and pinned up with a tack. “Freak” was scrawled across it. Hmmm. Give ya one guess who left that.

  I pried the tack out and as the paper unfolded, a camera’s memory card fell to the ground. The piece of paper was a sketch Betsy had done of green-with-envy Veronica. Over the top Betsy had scrawled, “The only people I hate more than you are the Ests.”

  Considering our past, this felt like a love note. She’d given me all the stupidpower pictures. All her evidence to turn me into a social outcast. I took the memory card and put it in my locker. I wouldn’t dare take it home and have Dad find it. I needed to figure out how to dispose of it properly, and permanently.

  For now, I was finally done with dance prep, and with two hours to spare. Yikes! I needed to rush home and get ready. At least the chaperones were in charge of getting the food out before the dance, giving me (and my hair) a few extra minutes to primp.

  * * *

  Despite the rush, the sight of my fancy dress made me smile. Sure, it was from Cashman’s Outlet, not Chateau Chez. But I thought it was the most beautiful dress I had ever seen. It was navy with sequins and a black tulle overlay. Like a sky full of stars.

  Dolled up, I went downstairs. Even if dad was still cranky with me, I knew he needed to see this dress.

  “Ta-da!” I cheered and did a little twirl as I went into the living room. (I only tripped a little.)

  “Yeowza! That is a fancy potato sack,” he said.

  “Thank you, thank you.” I bowed as if I had just won an Oscar; gracious, and yet completely full of myself.

  “That’s why it really sucks to have to tell you that you need to stay home,” he said.

  I laughed at his funny, funny, ridiculous joke.

  “I’m serious, Veri. I’m sorry, but I’m serious.”

  “What did I do? I mean, recently?”

  “Nothing,” he said sadly.

  “Then why?”

  “Listen, I heard your mom came to the club yesterday when I wasn’t there. I think she’s gonna try to get you. You need to stay here with me where you’ll be safe.” He put his hands on my shoulders.

  “Safe? Dad, she’s not dangerous.” My voice shook. I wondered if I should tell him that I went to see her, but decided I shouldn’t because: “If you think she’s dangerous, then I’d hate to see what you thought of me if—”

  HONK-HONK!

  “My ride is here. I’m going.” I tried to turn away, but his grip on my shoulders stopped me.

  “No, Veronica!” he commanded.

  “This isn’t fair!” I yelled up to his face. I could feel my own anger growing like a fire inside me.

  “Oww!” Dad threw his hands off my shoulders and looked at them.

  I knew what had happened: my anger had activated my powers. And, as usual when I’m angry, fiery heat had come. My skin had become so hot, it burned my dad’s hand.

  “Veri?”

  I was already out the door.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  MYSTERY DATE

  “Hi, guys!” I said as cheerfully as possible as I squeezed into the backseat of the minivan next to Blake.

  Kate’s oldest brother, Jim, was driving his sister, me, Blake, and Keesha to the dance.

  “Hey, Veronica!” Kate said. “That dress is amazing!”

  “Oh, thanks!” I said.

  “Totally sweet,” Blake confirmed.

  I was determined to enjoy the night. Sure, Jenny wasn’t happy with me, but I had to hope she’d chill out once she had some fun at the dance. I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes, but I did want to get my Est title. Come on, I’d literally torn myself apart dealing with my superpowers and working my butt off to get to this moment. Tonight was my night, and no one was going to take it from me.

  FYI, I wasn’t at all worried about Mom showing up for multiple reasons:

  1.  How would she recognize me? It had been twelve years.

  2.  If Dad’s big fear was her “dangerous” powers, I already knew more about them than he did.

  3.  I knew what she looked like, thanks to my bus trip to Westchester, so I’d see her coming.

  Jim pulled up to school and let us out at the curb. I rifled around in my pockets to find my ticket as we walked up the stairs.

  “That dress has pockets?” Blake asked.

  “Yes! Deciding factor,” I admitted. “I can’t do purses, I forget them everywhere.”

  He smiled. “There she is.” He was looking at Hun Su, who was giddily waving at him. (Her makeup was flawless, btw.)

  “See ya later?” Blake punched me lightly in the shoulder, like I was one of his dude buddies. Then he rushed up the stairs two at a time and straight to Hun Su. They hugged, and she held onto his arm as they went inside.

  What just happened? I stopped on the stairs. Kate patted me on the back as she and Keesha followed them in.

  I felt a light mist on my face. Not now, stupidpowers. Please, not now. A slight fog had formed over my head, threatening rain. Quickly, I waved my hand through it, breaking it up. My heart felt so fragile and sore. Veronica McGowan, you’re not cool.

  Sadness was starting to engulf me. I needed to talk myself out of it before my powers went haywire.

  It was time for a pep talk of epic proportions.

  This is just a little setback. Don’t worry about it. Remember when Blake wasn’t part of the equation? When getting Artiest was everything you wanted? You can still do that. You can still get that Est! You did the best job ever on decorations! Own it!

  My fragile feeling didn’t go away completely, but the chances of rain went down to normal. I had this under control.

  Until I noticed some familiar red hair sitting on the top step, waiting for me.

  “Veronica?” my mom asked, cocking her head to one side and squinting.

  “That’s me,” I answered, but I didn’t move any closer to her.

  Just like before, seeing Mom didn’t feel good. Something was missing. I should have felt an instant bond, especially since we shared the same affliction, but instead I wanted to run in the opposite direction. Or maybe it was just Dad’s voice echoing through my head, telling me not to trust her. My stomach started to hurt. It felt like something was moving around in there. I put my hand on my belly. Sure enough, my stomach was literally tying in knots! I cringed and tried my best to ignore it. I’d been packing the emotions in so tightly it was starting to feel like I might burst.

  “How do you know what I look like?” I asked.

  “You know who I am?” She was surprised.

  I nodded.

  “Well, I saw you on TV,” she answered. “The fire at school.”

  How many times did they replay that news report?

  She offered me her hand. It was small and looked harmless enough, but I stepped away from her and she dropped it. Why didn’t this feel okay?

  “You sent me that article, didn’t you?” I asked. “You wanted me to know about the superpowers.”

&nb
sp; “Yes. It was time you knew the truth. Setting fire to your school was proof.” She reached out again. “Come with me.”

  I had so many questions. Questions that needed answering before we went any farther. I was so mad at Dad, but darned if he hadn’t made me a naturally suspicious person—and for once it seemed appropriate. “Where have you been? Did someone cure you?” I asked quietly.

  “Cure me?” She sounded confused. “You’re the one who needs to be cured. I don’t care what your father says.” She latched onto my wrist.

  “What?”

  “Your dad is a menace, Veronica. He’s unfit to be a parent!”

  I went to pull my hand away, but she was holding my wrist as tightly as she could.

  “Let me go!” I yelled. “My dad may work two jobs and smoke cigars and make everyone afraid of him, but”—this is where I realized I wasn’t making the point I needed to—“who are you to say anything about him?! You’ve been gone my whole life and now you show up? Because we are both freaks?” I could feel my stupidpowers firing up.

  “Ow!” Mom whipped her hand away and blew on it. I looked at my wrist; it was glowing like red-hot metal.

  I needed to get away from my mom before this got any worse.

  “Hey!” Ms. Watson shouted, hurrying toward us from inside the dance. She must have seen what looked like an attempted abduction. (And it sort of was exactly that.)

  A giant scowl took over Ms. Watson’s face when she spotted Mom. “You!”

  “Agent Hendriks?” My mom looked just as disgusted.

  “Agent Hendriks?” I echoed.

  Ms. Watson/Agent Hendriks ushered us both behind a pine tree at the bottom of the stairs.

  “This woman made our lives a living hell after the first storm, Veronica,” Mom said. “Told everyone she could that we were a family of weirdos. All for her career.”