by A. E. Clarke
Chapter Nineteen: Holly
“Okay, so. Meditation would probably be a good way to start.”
I rolled my eyes but quickly shut them before Jesse saw the gesture. I breathed deeply, making sure to relax and let my lungs fill all the way. I yawned and let myself do it instead of covering my mouth with my hand like I normally would. I figured that even if Jesse was watching—which he probably wasn’t, all things considered—he wouldn’t care. At least it showed I was relaxing, I supposed.
I tried to focus on my breathing. One, two, three, four, five. Hold, two, three, four, five six. No, wait, five. Okay, breathing out—two, three, four five. Okay, so I’m feeling calmer, I guess. Wait, I’m supposed to be focusing on this. In two, three, four, five, six. Maybe I should count to six instead? Oh, wait, counting.
I sighed. Maybe meditation isn’t for me.
“I think I’ve got the hang of this,” I said, after another couple minutes of trying to focus on my breathing, although I was mostly focusing on my thoughts that I should have been focusing on my breathing, but I didn’t want to sit here. I could work on this myself.
“Jess?” I opened one eye and found he’d already moved out of my field of vision. “Okay, maybe that worked a bit better for me than I’d thought.” I looked around; he wasn’t in the room at all.
Ninja.
“Jesse?” I called out, starting to get up.
“Shut up and sit back down,” Jesse said, walking back into the room, looking at the buttons on the video camera in his hands.
“You want to film me?”
He nodded. “I want you to be able to see what you look like when you’re doing that—so you have some sort of a visual cue for your powers and how they’re outwardly expressed.”
Again, I had to hand it to him. He was good at coming up with this bullshit. “Okay, cool. That works for me.”
“Good, now…” He pressed a button; I heard a ping! and saw the little green light at the front of the camera turn on. He pressed it again, and the light turned off, with a couple more beeps from the camera.
“Okay, so I’m gonna turn it on, and I want you to hold out your hand…” He paused. After a second, he raised an eyebrow and held up his hand.
I mumbled an apology and held out my hand to match his. It felt strange for our roles to be flipped. He was very much in control of this situation, and while he’d always been a little forceful—especially before the anger management courses—I’d never seen him so much in his element before.
“When I turn it on, I want you to make your power go from zero to one hundred, slowly and smoothly as you can, okay?”
“Wait—slowly? You don’t want it to flare?”
“No. You really shouldn’t flare it unless you need to. That’s the first thing you want to do. If we want to grow your control, it’s logical to get you to fight your natural urges, right?”
I shrugged and nodded. It seemed a little counterintuitive to me, like it was trying to take what I could do and dumb it down, but he had already proven he knew better than I did. After three hours of focusing on pooling my energy in my shoulder wound, the doctor said he must have looked at it wrong initially, since there was no possible way there had been that much improvement in the damage. I could move it freely and only felt pain when I tried to lift something heavy.
I heard the little ping again and waved my hand around, trying to make a few small arcs of lightning flicker around my fingers. I wasn’t sure why we needed to show the hand, but I did what Jesse asked me to do.
I squinted and inhaled—a shallow breath, then I remembered to breathe down to the diaphragm. Damn, that’s a useful trick. Not only could I breathe a lot deeper than I’d realized, but the energy also steadily grew from a few arcs of lightning to what looked like a blue chain-link fence around my hands.
Okay, more.
I let it expand until there were no visible gaps between the arcs but not to the point where it turned opaque. It was still sticking fairly close to my hand, too.
“Hold on, I gotta back up a bit.” Jesse took a couple steps back and refocused the camera. “Okay, go.”
I could feel the energy now, though it was little more than a tickle. It wasn’t a huge deal; I could only really feel it because I was concentrating on the sensation. When I looked down, it had gotten a lot brighter than I’d intended. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to control it for much longer.
I grinned and looked up. “Hey, Jesse, watch this.”
Chapter Twenty: Jesse
I took a couple steps back as I saw the camera reacting to the presence of so much energy in the air. “Hold on, I gotta back up a bit.” I adjusted the lens zoom, refocusing on her hand. “Okay, go.”
I looked up from the camera. Holly was starting to lose her grip over her energy. Her breathing pattern changed, getting faster. I opened my mouth to remind her to breathe slowly, but she cut me off.
“Hey Jesse, watch this.”
I shielded my eyes with my hands, pretty sure that not only was I about to be blinded, but that the camera was no longer pointed in the right direction.
I said—calmly, I thought, given the situation—“No, don’t—” The rest would’ve been along the lines of No, don’t let your power get out of control, but that was all I got out before the sudden pain in my chest, like Holly’s energy had slammed into me. I wasn’t sure if it because it was all around me and I was being saturated in it, or if it had shot out and hit me. Regardless, there was nothing I could do; the camera slipped from my hand, and I fell, shaking violently.
My eyes rolled back in my head as the blindingly bright light subsided. The last thing I heard was Holly swearing at me. Fighting for breath, my head hit the floor, and I sank into the black that had obscured my vision.
#
I woke up to an incredible pain in my chest, which, judging by the cold, was bare. I looked down at myself, squinting as my vision swam in and out of focus, and then at my sister, who was kneeling over me, tears running down her cheeks. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her cry, definitely not since Mom and Dad, so that worried me even more than whatever had just happened. What was still happening.
“It’s fine, Holly.” I sat up and groaned. As much as I was glad to be alive, living still hurt. “I’m all right. You don’t need to worry.”
“I can’t believe I did that.”
I blinked. Her voice was surprisingly calm and collected, considering the tears streaming down her face and spilling onto my crossed legs. I pushed her shoulders back so I could see her face.
“Didn’t mean to do what? What happened, Holly? I know your energy zapped me, but I’m not sure if it was because you shot me or if it was like on the bus.”
“I…I think I hit you. It went where my fingers were pointing.”
She was still kind of staring at nothing, and it was starting to unnerve me. I waved a hand in front of her face. “Hol, chill out. I’m not dead.”
“You were.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I’m…I’m pretty sure you died.”
“Then how am I speaking to you now?” I was trying—very, very hard—to stay calm. Apparently, “anger management” techniques also work when being told you’ve been brought back from the dead.
“I…” She brought up her hand, clenched in a fist, and then suddenly unfurled it. An arc of electricity stretched outwards from her fingers, and then disappeared. “I did that.”
“Oh. That’s kind of…kind of cool.” Even I could hear the forced calm in my voice. This was not what I needed to hear, but I tried to breathe deeply and shove it to the back of my mind. I could figure this out later. “You know what? I’m going to go with ‘I’m still alive,’ and…” I touched my chest tentatively, then looked down. There wasn’t even a mark. “Are you sure something happened? I don’t even have any burns.”
“Yeah, I noticed that. You had some earlier, but I…” She stopped and inhaled, but not the way I’d taught her.
>
My eye twitched. “No, from the diaphragm,” I said. It was a useful distraction from my recent death.
She burst out laughing, and I blinked, completely thrown off by the sudden change of mood. It took me a moment to notice that I’d shifted. “So clearly my mind’s been affected by the whole death thing.”
She stopped laughing, and I winced. “No, seriously. I’m going to pretend I was never dead. It doesn’t seem to have affected me at all, and I’m…not even one hundred percent sure that I was dead.”
She made some sort of sound of protest, and I held up a hand to cut her off. “I don’t want to hear it. Seriously. Holly—I’ve always been alive!” My heartbeat was beginning to spike out of control. I held my breath and closed my eyes.
I can deal with this.
I kind of have to deal with this.
“Is that okay?” I asked.
“Yeah…yeah, sure.”
I opened my eyes and forced myself to smile at her. “So even though you may have hurt me a bit, you didn’t do it on purpose, and it’s okay.” I nodded, firmly, and turned away so I wouldn’t have to look at her. “I’m just going to go over to my room, okay?”
She nodded.
I turned on my heel and took a step towards the door.
“Hey, dude,” Holly said, and I turned around. “Do you actually dance in your room when no one is looking?”
I sputtered, which turned into coughing as Holly started laughing.
“Yes. I thought everyone kind of did. Who told you that I do?”
“You’ve been spotted a number of times. I’m not usually the kind of person to notice, but…well, you don’t turn around like a normal person anymore. You kind of do a dance move thing.”
“Oh.” Heat crept up my neck.
“It’s okay, kind of…amusing. Good to see, though.” She smiled, and I smiled back, though my heart was pounding.
I walked out of Holly’s room, calling back a goodnight over my shoulder as I headed down the hall to my own room.
Once inside, I closed the door behind me and leaned against the doorjamb. “I really died tonight, I guess?” I poked at my chest. While I couldn’t feel any burns, it was very tender where she said she’d hit me, and I had a feeling that my shirt—wherever it was—would probably back up her version of the story.
I’d deny it as much as possible around her, but now I was alone in my room, tears were streaming down my face. I need to come to terms with this.
Chapter Twenty-One: Holly
I stood in my bedroom, still clutching Jesse’s shirt in my hand. After he’d left, I’d started crying again. He seemed perfectly fine, though I was pretty sure it was a ruse.
I killed him.
I held up the shirt again. There was a large hole with blackened edges where the first bolt had shot from my hand. I had attacked and killed my younger brother with these stupid powers. If they were a gift from God or something, they were given to the wrong person. I didn’t want them, and I clearly didn’t deserve them.
I sat on the edge of my bed with my head in my hands and stared at my feet, letting my vision blur from the tears that were dripping from the end of my nose.
“This was a huge mistake. All of this,” I mumbled, shaking my head.
No, I shouldn’t be saying anything out loud. I don’t want Jesse to hear.
I couldn’t believe what an evil human being I was, albeit unintentionally. I had superpowers, but I was no superhero.
Hell, if anything, I’m a supervillain.
It wasn’t intentional, by any means. My first thought after I’d found out I was using my mind to control some sort of electrical energy was along the lines of Hey, cool! I’m a real-life superhero. And what had I done with my powers? I’d blown up a bus and killed my brother.
And I killed…what was his name, Andrew? He had a name, and I knew his name, and he died because of something I did. I didn’t mean to, but I did it. The bus driver… He probably had a family, and he was just doing his job, then had to deal with first one gunman, then another, and then an explosion.
At least, according to the TV, everyone else’s deaths had likely been “mercifully quick,” due to the intensity of the blast beneath their feet.
And then the homeless guy, the one who had originally had the gun: he wasn’t really to blame for what he did. Probably. He looked like he had something going wrong in his brain, and that really didn’t mean that he needed to die for what he did. Hell, I had been trying to explain that to Andrew, hadn’t I?
I watched the tears dripping from my nose. “And the poor mother and her baby…” I was muttering aloud again, and I stopped myself, looking up to make sure my door was still closed and that Jesse wasn’t standing there listening to me beat myself up about accidentally being a supervillain.
I didn’t know how to justify this in my head. I hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, but how could this possibly be something that wasn’t genuinely evil? I had killed a half dozen people, including a baby in a stroller.
And then…and then I came home to train with my little brother, and I’d gotten it in my head to show off for the camera, and—
“The camera.”
I’d shoved it in a drawer after…once I was sure Jesse was breathing again, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to get it or not. I really needed to go to bed if I was going to get up at four in the morning and get to work on time. Besides, it wasn’t something I wanted to deal with right away. Or ever.
I lay back on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. At least I’d stopped crying, but whether I liked it or not—whether I had meant it or not—I was evil. Whatever that meant.
If I continued to use my powers, would I be able to break from the mould and be anything other than a supervillain?
It wasn’t what I wanted—it wasn’t what I believed I deserved, after spending half my life taking care of my younger brother. After all, isn’t it always the superheroes whose parents die at a tragically young age? I shook the thought away.
From my limited comic book knowledge, superheroes’ parents always died in a brutal fashion directly in front of them. I could always go and ask Jesse, but…well, he’d probably put two and two together and know how I was feeling.
I sighed and turned on my side, drawing my knees up to my chest. I was trying really hard not to start crying again.
Okay, next question: how would I approach the subject of my powers with Alex? There was nothing I would have liked less to discuss with him, but I couldn’t think of any way to get all of this—all of this…this entire fucking situation—off my mind.
I grabbed at my pillow and held it with both hands, contemplating ripping it apart or pumping it so full of electricity it would explode. Realizing what I was contemplating doing with my powers—the powers I’d convinced myself I never wanted to use again—I threw the pillow across the room. It hit a porcelain mug on my dresser, which fell to the ground and smashed; in the silence of the late evening, I flinched at how loud it sounded.
This was so far from being “my night.” I rolled over again, folding my arms across my chest, and let my mind drift, circling the same loop of thoughts until I fell asleep.
I have superpowers, and I can’t use them for good.
I blew up a bus. I killed that poor baby.
I killed people.
I killed Jesse.
I have superpowers, and I can’t use them…
Chapter Twenty-Two: Jesse
I woke up the next morning with a sinking feeling in my stomach. I couldn’t remember what had gone wrong at first, and I was trying to figure out what I’d been dreaming about, then remembered it wasn’t a dream.
I peeled off the clothes I’d put on last night after I’d left Holly. I’d intended to run out to the sort-of-nearby twenty-four-hour coffee shop but had instead lain in bed “for a minute.” I’d fallen asleep until my alarm clock screamed, reminding me it was Monday morning and that I needed to deal with school for another day.
; I sat up and groaned, holding my stomach. I considered phoning my school once eight o’clock hit, to tell them I was feeling too sick to go in today, but I decided against it. If I did that, I’d end up sitting around all day worrying and would have to explain myself when Holly got home from work mid-afternoon.
I looked at my pillow longingly as I stood and stretched; my abdomen was still tender but no more than it would have been had I been punched. It was painful but bearable.
The school day was fairly uneventful. Brent and I texted back and forth as usual, although avoiding the subject of Holly’s powers was difficult, and I felt like I was running a fever. The entire day, while everyone was complaining about the chilly weather we’d been having the past few days, I was overheating, walking around outside in my T-shirt, next to my friends in their fall jackets.
I got home at the normal time and sat in front of my computer. My phone started vibrating in my pocket. It was a text from Brent.
Hey, can I phone you?
Instead of answering with a text, I called him back.
“Hello?”
“Hey, babe.”
“Hey, hon.” He sounded relieved.
“You home yet?”
“Yeah—I just walked in.”
“What’s up?”
“I…I need to talk to you.”
Thunk. I could all but feel my stomach plummet, and I had to struggle not to let the lump in my throat come across in my words.
“You…need to talk, or you need to talk?”
“What? Oh, jeez—no, I’m not breaking up with you. Nothing even close to that. Don’t talk like that!”
I sighed, relieved. “Okay, good. I didn’t think so, but…I dunno. We had our first big fight yesterday, and—”
“And we’re over it, so shut up and let me talk?”
“Sorry.”
“Okay, well—okay, I actually do want to talk about that.”
“About what?”
“The video you said you’d send me.”
