Throbbing whirled when Kay woke up.

He was hoping that the discomfort all over his body would have gone away over night but he woke up, got out of bed, and that feeling was all over his body. One moment he felt like overstuffed sausage, then the next he felt like a dried sponge. Then he felt like his bones were hollow. The sensation wasn’t quite pain but it didn’t seem like non-pain either. It was hard to pin down but Kay knew he didn’t like it.

Being a person that could turn into a being of living water, Kay had his share of weird experiences. Getting his butt kicked in that water form had strange repercussions, though. Repercussions that affected him while he was in human form.

He slid on a T-shirt and then a sweater and felt like he was wearing fifty layers. His skin and every muscle in his arms screamed for him to remove the clothes. He looked outside the window at the cloud-covered morning. It was going to be a cold one.

There was no reference for the feeling that Kay was feeling. The couple times that Kay had gotten seriously hurt in his water form, including that big fight he fought when his powers first awakened; he couldn’t recall waking up the next day and feeling like every bone was out of place and every muscle was dried out like old honey. Maybe the same thing happened back then, but he couldn’t remember.

Kay walked out his bedroom and his family was busy getting ready for their days. Aubrey was on the couch watching some early morning MuchMusic before she went out to her job. She tapped her foot while a grungy rock band played on the screen– Kay might have known that singer: Sam Roberts, he thought his name was. The living room was loud with blasting drums and alt rock wailing.

Kay’s mom and stepdad were getting ready for their days, too. Stevie prepped lunches for her husband, her son, and herself.

Kay went to the kitchen to get himself a glass of orange juice, scooting past Urban to get his hand into the fridge. He snapped a glass out of the cupboard and went around the island to get out of everyone’s way before pouring himself a cup. Cup full, he put the carton back in the fridge.

His mother was reading a newspaper. After the incident last night, Kay worried that his little adventure got on the front page news but when the boy glanced at the headlines “PREMIER WARNS THAT C–“ Well, Kay couldn’t catch the entire thing but knew it wasn’t about him.

He drank his juice. It was a bit bland but he figured fluids were always good.

“We’re not going to grandma’s this Thanksgiving,” said Mom. “She wanted to have it on Sunday and so did Herb’s aunt Berenice.”

Thanksgiving.

“Oh...” Kay’s voice was tired and heavy.

Stevie looked at her son. He looked ill and drank his juice like a blood transfusion. “Are you okay, Mick?”

This got some eyes on him. Urban and Aubrey cocked their heads at the boy, assessing what problem Stevie was witnessing.

Kay shook the cobwebs off his face. “Yeah. I just had trouble sleeping last night.”

Stevie smiled. “Well, cheer up! It’s a three-day weekend tomorrow.”

Kay faked a grin and finished his juice.

It was a day to tune everything out so Kay got his Walkman, its black coat with scratches and chips on the front. He had a burnt CD full of assorted tracks, a number of songs from the 1970s that Kay liked. Songs from Deep Purple, Alice Cooper, The Who, and Led Zeppelin. And “Alison” from Elvis Costello... because he heard it in a movie once.

He stuck the Walkman in his coat pocket and stringed up some headphones to his ears. He listened to the vintage guitars and hardened vocals on his walk to school, trying his best to ignore how his body felt like it was held together by weak glue.

It didn’t hurt, his body; it felt fragile.

It was Friday. Pull it together, Kay, he told himself. You have all weekend to recover.

What was even wrong with him? Was that discomfort a normal part of being a water person or someone that could transform? What were the rules for people that could magically change their bodies? How did damage transfer from one to the next? It wasn’t something that Kay wanted to find out but a voice in the back of his head knew how important that was to know.

At school, Kay drifted through his first couple of classes. He kept his head down, did his work, and shivered over the discomfort swirling in his body. When lunch came he ate his at the cafeteria, sitting at a table with some people he could call “friends”. He opened his lunch box. His mother gave him some keftedes, courtesy of Urban. He popped one in his mouth and chewed.

Huh. Usually they had a prominent oregano flavour that Kay didn’t like. Oregano, or some kind of overpowering herb. Today that flavour was reserved. In fact, they didn’t taste like much at all. It didn’t matter much; a couple meatballs and most of a juice box and Kay was full.

Huxley and Kay shared media studies so after lunch they walked to class together. Huxley engaged in conversation and Kay gave enough attention to pretend that he was listening. Kay was hoping that his sickness would ease up towards the end of the school day but it wasn’t getting any better. It was hard to gauge but it seemed to be getting worse.

Once media studies got going, the lesson today was on broadcast television: how stations scheduled programming. Kay did his best to pay attention but his focus was drifting in and out. He only got faded signals of what he was supposed to be learning. Most of the time he was staring at the paper in front of him. It was today’s assignment and he was supposed to fill in the blanks as part of the lesson, but all he could do was trail his eyes over the text, not knowing what the answers were while his fellow students wrote down answers diligently.

After the lesson concluded, the teacher left the students to their own to complete the assignment. What assignment? Kay wasn’t sure. He couldn’t care either.

Huxley got talking to some local classmates, chatting with them, while Kay relaxed and prayed that he wouldn’t need to see a doctor. Oh god, a doctor. He hadn’t been to a checkup since his powers had awakened. What if he went to one and got found out as a water shapeshifter?

Opting to ignore his anxiety, Kay turned his attention to the conversation Huxley was having with their neighbours: Jia and Lana.

Jia was a girl with long black hair who was often seen smiling. Lana had short blond hair and glasses.

Huxley saw that Kay was looking like he was going to pass out. “You okay, Kay?”

Kay perked up and tried to appear alive. “Yeah.” He sighed and rocked a forehead into a palm. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

Jia nodded. “It’s Friday at least.” She pumped her arms up and cheered. “And then it’s the long weekend!”

Huxley and Lana whooped. Kay forced a smirk.

Lana saw Kay’s headphones. “What are you listening to on those?”

Kay wasn’t sure what she was talking about until he waved a hand on his neck like he was trying to slot away a fly. His hand bumped the headphones. Kay didn’t realize he still had them on. The cord was connected to the Walkman in his pocket. He even had them on during lunch, evidenced by a crumb on the foam. He swatted the crumb to the floor.

“Deep Purple,” said Kay, his voice shy, “Led Zeppelin.”

“Oh yeah,” said Jia. “You like older music, don’t you?”

Her tone was mocking but Kay figured that he might as well get the interrogation over with. He brace himself with an inhale. “Yeah.”

“And you don’t listen to new stuff?” said Huxley.

“Yeah.”

“Why not?” asked Jia.

“It’s not good,” said Kay. “It’s annoying... and fake. Overproduced.”

Kay didn’t like having his tastes on trial but it served as a good distraction from the glassy feeling in all his muscles. The annoyance of having his musical choices dissected was easier to get through than sit there and ruminate over his body feeling the way it did.

“Fake?” said Jia with a chuckle.

“It’s artificial,” said Kay, “It’s soulless.”

Kay usually peppered his opinion with restraint but he was not in the mood.

Jia couldn’t hide her disbelief. “How is it soulless?”

“It’s made by marketing,” said Kay, “It’s just meant to sell CDs.”

Jia fluttered eyes but said nothing.

“Did you always like older music?” asked Lana. She chuckled. “Did you ask for an AC/DC cassette for your seventh birthday?”

Everyone chuckled, including Kay. He said, “No. I don’t remember liking music growing up– not anything that wasn’t a song from a Disney movie. Or video game music. That song ‘Cotton Eye Joe’...” He leaned up and straightened himself out. “I remember it playing a primary school dance. Everyone was so excited, jumping around. I didn’t get it. I didn’t feel anything for it.”

They were all familiar with the song. It had been nearly a decade since it was a hit and nobody was surprised that a kid could be disinterested in it.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“So how did you get into older rock music?” asked Huxley.

Something was going on. They had a genuine interest in Kay’s musical background. They looked at him with curious eyes and humble grins. The fragility of Kay’s body cooled down. “I started hearing music I liked in movies and it was stuff like The Band and stuff. I remember watching that one meteor movie Armageddon and liking a lot of songs.”

Huxley scratched his knuckles and a gave casual nod. “I guess I see your point. It’s weird, though.”

It was weird, Kay knew. But he didn’t care.

“I think it’s cool,” said Lana. “That you like old stuff.”

Kay sighed, unable to contain a smile. “I like new stuff a lot. New movies, new shows. I just don’t like music.”

They continued a discussion and the period flew by. Kay never got his work done but he hoped that he would be able to finish the assignment later. He said bye to his neighbours on his way of class and spent the last period of the day feeling fatigued. He came pretty close to falling asleep at his desk but made it to the end of the day without anything too embarrassing happening to him.

Another warm day in Toronto and another cool day in Dead Head’s warehouse. Pax should have brought his coat but there was a bigger trouble on the horizon: breaking the bad news to Dead Head.

Dead Head was in the office, hunched over his desk, staring out into space until he saw Pax come in the door. Pax beelined towards the office, the room’s light sprinkling across the floor of the dark warehouse. Pax walked across the building with his posture slouched and a slower speed than usual, footfalls echoing across the building.

Dead Head sensed disappointment was coming.

Pax walked up to the office– the door hanging open. Pax knocked anyway. “Hey, boss, uh, could–“

Dead Head cut him off. “How did it go last night with Vadsaria?”

Pax knew to cut to the chase. “Not good. We were ambushed.”

Dead Head let out a throaty grump. “Were the cops there?”

“No,” said Pax, rubbing his face. He ran every sentence through his head before delivering it to Dead Head. “Some water guy was there. When we went to go spook on Vadsaria, this water guy came outta nowhere and attacked us. We tried to beat some sense into him but we couldn’t deal with the guy! He was made of water.”

Dead Head sneered, a grain of amusement in his disbelief. “This is your excuse!?”

“It’s no excuse, boss,” said Pax. “It’s what happened. We could never have predicted some walking whirlpool would interfere with our business.” Pax slicked his hair back. “I swear, I’ve my share of freakshows over the years and never someone like this guy!”

Dead Head groaned, suspending his forehead with a palm. He wanted to call Pax an idiot but what good would that do? He had to move forward.

“We can find out supplies elsewhere,” said Dead Head. “Forget about Vadsaria.”

“What now?” asked Pax.

“Talk to the boy down in Trenton,” said Dead Head. “And by talk, I mean leave him with a memento for giving me lip about his cut.”

More grunt work. Pax had hoped that joining up with Dead Head would have offered new opportunities but he was doing the same stuff as always. Oh well, he thought. Pax leaned up from the door sill. “Will do.”

With Pax leaving the building, Dead Head had room to brood. A water being? Was his subordinate screwing with him? Dead Head knew there were strange beings around Toronto and that a water person defending a corner store could have been a possibility. Hopefully it was a one time thing: the water being interfering or Pax giving him an excuse.

He got up and walked to the calendar hanging on the wall. Things were still on schedule, but would they stay that way?

Kay got home and went to his room. To tired to turn on the computer– he put his Walkman on the desk, plopped his backpack down by his bed, and laid down.

Diving his face into the pillow, his ears muffled by down, he could hear his blood flowing through his body. It sounded like pipes flowing behind an old wall. Pipes was the right imagery because his blood flowed fast and his body felt like a cycling conduit of jet fuel, ready to be ignited.

Make it stop, he thought.

In the darkness, colours took his eyesight. Painful reds and sizzling yellows.

I gave it a shot, thought Kay. I tried to be a hero, but it’s too hard. How did I get the idea that it was going to be easy?

As he lay there, falling into a state of half-sleep, Kay’s mind wandered. He thought about when he was in grade seven, running for track & field. His legs got caught in a hurdle and he collapsed on the ground, smacking his face against the rubber track. He didn’t stay down, though. After kicking off the hurdle from his leg, he got back up and dashed to the finish, busted lip and scratched up leg not an issue. He came in last but only by a few seconds.

Even when he was a small child, there were people impressed with Kay’s ability to shake off injury. He once fell off his bike, crashing his shoulder on the sidewalk, and it only took him a few minutes to get the wind back inside him and drag his sorry butt home. He had to go to the hospital, but he handled it like a champ.

It was a different story when the injury was inflicted upon him from another. Even as he kept his eyes closed, he saw the faces of the crooks at the convenience store. How they sneered at the boy. He thought about that Weasel character: weasel wasn’t quite right– he was more like a cat or some kind of werewolf.

Kay had never had people look at him like that, at least not that he could remember. Their threatening gazes and dismissive grins made him cringe. If had the chance, would they have put Kay in the hospital? Or the morgue?

There was a tapping. It must have been Philly. Kay pushed himself up to see Philly at his window, big smile on his foxy face and tail swaying behind him like a paintbrush in the breeze.

Kay sighed. Better get this over with, thought Kay. He opened up the window, having no trouble showing his annoyance that Philly was there. “Hi... Philly.”

“Hey, kid!” said Philly, showing off his foxy teeth. “Just came by to see how you were doing after last night?” He looked at Kay, with his wrinkled white shirt. “You seem okay.”

“I feel like crap,” said Kay. He opened up the screen to let the fox in.

Philly hopped down and sat on the bed. Kay closed the pane.

“Are you sore?” asked Philly.

“No,” said Kay, “I feel... weird.” Kay rode his palm up and down an arm. “My body feels... glassy. My blood is flowing fast.” He rubbed his shoulders, dipping his head. “It’s like a permanent adrenaline rush.”

“That doesn’t sound like injury,” said Philly, “that sounds like trauma.”

He hadn’t considered it, but hearing that word struck Kay deep. Trauma? Was that really it? Kay looked down at his trembling hands and lost his wind.

“It was your first fight,” said Philly, trotting around Kay’s sheets. “Expect to be a little shaken the day after.”

Kay shivered. The feeling of fists bashing him in the stomach sent chills up his spine. The remnant feeling of being tossed around the room made Kay’s body sway. Even the thought of the punches thrown at him– punches that didn’t even connect– made him uncomfortable. A stew simmered in his stomach and his mouth got dry.

“You’re still new at this,” said Philly.

“Philly...” said Kay, his voice cracking, “they wanted to hurt me!”

Philly gazed at Kay, his ears drooping when he saw the terror in Kay’s eyes, a thin mist growing over them.

“Hey...” said Philly, his tone reassuring, “How about you take the day off. Or two or how many you need. You’re in shock, I get that.” Philly paused, taking a deep look into Kay’s frustrated expression. “Or maybe you don’t want to continue?”

It had been on Kay’s mind. Maybe superheroing wasn’t something he could do, but even as he sat there, with his legs folded under him and his eyes with the sting of tears forming, he wasn’t sure there was no reason for him to try again.

“I don’t know...” said Kay. “Give me some time...”

Philly was disappointed that Kay seemed like he wanted to abort the superhero thing but the fox knew he should put Kay’s feelings first. He sighed and nuzzled a nose into Kay’s arm. “Have a rest.”

Kay shifted on his bed. “Okay...” said Kay, looking away from his fox friend.

He opened the window again for Philly. Philly turned around and grinned. “See ya, Kay.”

“Goodbye,” said Kay.

He closed the window and Philly ran off, brushy tail behind him. He went to the stairs, stopped for a moment and gave a look back to Kay. Kay grinned and gave a little wave before Philly hopped down the stairs and out of sight.

Kay sighed and wiped his eyes. Funny enough, his body seemed to settle down in the conversation with Philly. He took off his glasses and laid his body on his bed, hoping a nap would catch him.