Chapter 15

Ray

"What are you drawing?” Britney asked as she leaned over her desk to get a glimpse.

I quickly shut my notebook. “Nothing,” I said. “I was just… doodling.”

“Doodling?” she said with a raised eyebrow. “You never doodle. Let me see.” She reached over to snag the notebook from me, but I pulled it away. Her teasing smile faded.

“Okay,” I said. “Truth is… I was actually taking notes. We have an exam coming up.”

She frowned. We both glanced up at Mr. Thompson, our history teacher. It was like he was doing a slow waltz between the white board and his book on the podium. He would read something from the text book about the judiciary system, summarize it to the class, write it up on the board, and then do it all over again. Practically every student was either looking at their phones or sleeping on their desks. It was true that we had an exam coming up next week, but pretty much everyone passed—it was open book after all.

Britney looked back at me with narrowed eyes. “Fine,” she said sarcastically as she pulled up her phone. “I’m taking notes too.” She made it very apparent that she was moping through social media.

I rolled my eyes and opened my notebook, covering it with my arms so nobody could see it. On the page before me was a drawing of me. The superhero me.

I wasn’t very artistically talented, but it was good enough to get the gist. I’d drawn myself with a black leather jacket, blue jeans, a baseball cap with the bill pulled down, and aviator sunglasses to hide my identity. If I was going to save people in this city, then I wanted to do it in style. There was no way I’d ever be one of those comic book superheroes with a colorful unitard and a cape. Whoever came up with the idea that super humans should save the day in their multicolored underwear had to be high on something. Besides, how in the world would I ever make a costume like that? I’m no seamstress!

However, having a consistent outfit was important. The more often criminals and bystanders witnessed the Burn with the same clothing, the sooner they’d recognize that he’s not a guy to mess with. The Burn… I chuckled and erased that name off of my page. Too stupid, I thought. Besides, I haven’t burnt anything except that tree on accident. I don’t even know how I did it. I hadn’t come up with a good name yet. I wanted to make a name for myself that everyone in the city recognized. A name that villains feared, citizens cheered, and women adored. Maybe the Burn isn’t that stupid. I wrote the name down again.

Britney had every reason to be suspicious; I hadn’t sketched anything in class since sixth grade. Drawing in class was a super geeky thing to do. I didn’t want anyone to know the school’s star football player and most popular guy at school would do something so… geeky. I had a reputation to fill. Well… at least I used to. I had, after all, just been kicked off of the football team. I couldn’t be that guy anymore. That ship had sailed. That dream had been crushed. My whole identity was going through a major shift from popular football star to the Burn. I shook my head and erased the name again.

I was sure my friends would notice a change in me, but whatever happened, I didn’t want them to know I was a superhuman. None of them were good at keeping secrets. If the world found out I was the… the Rock, then I could never get the benefits of living a normal life. I couldn’t go to the movies without drawing unwanted attention. Every scientist would want a sample of my blood. And most of all, I still had a smidgen of hope that I could be a professional football star. If I improved in controlling my powers, then I could play without hurting anyone, but still be good enough to reach the Hall of Fame. Only if no one knew I was the Rock.

I grunted and erased that name. Already taken.

I started when the bell rang, nearly losing my pencil. Most of the students were startled too as they woke up from their naps. Britney didn’t say anything to me as we picked up our backpacks and left. Apparently, she was giving me the silent treatment. I passed by one student, a girl with glasses whose name I didn’t know and hadn’t nicknamed yet—who was actually writing her last line of notes before Mr. Thompson erased what he’d written on the white board. I rolled my eyes.

School seemed so meaningless now. Just a week ago, school performance was important, only so I could be eligible to play sports and get accepted to college football. Now that football was most likely out of the picture, I had no desire to go to school. Especially if I could be fighting crime all day as… Inferno. Then again, I wouldn’t be getting paid to be a superhero. Would I need to get a job on the side? Maybe school was important? I blew some air out of my mouth, feeling overwhelmed. No… who would pay a guy named Inferno?

I pushed open the doors that led outside to the school plaza. It was warm outside, late September in Arizona. Everyone was heading home; the last class had just ended. I passed by some freshman girls who gave me a funny look. That wasn’t too rare. Usually they would whisper to each other something like, “Is that Ray, the quarterback? He’s so hot. He’s taller up close.” But, then I noticed that more students than normal were giving me funny looks and pointing at me. Maybe it’s because I got kicked off the team, I wondered. Did word of that spread that fast? That was just yesterday.

I noticed Doug was walking toward me with a stern expression. I hadn’t seen him since yesterday. We met near the center of the plaza. “Dude, what’s going on?” he asked.

“Good question,” I responded, looking around. “Everyone’s looking at me like I shot the principal or something.”

“Or something,” he said. “You really don’t know?”

“Know what?”

He shook his head as if he didn’t believe me and gave me a serious look. “Bro, tell me what’s going on? Yesterday you threw the ball several hundred yards over the fence, and then you nearly killed James with a stiff-arm. How is that possible?”

“I don’t know, man,” I lied as I took a couple steps away from him. I was trying to come up with a story, but my mind drew a blank. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to hurt James.” That much was true.

Doug looked at me like I’d betrayed him somehow. “Ray, what about what happened after practice?”

“What do you mean? Nothing happened.”

He rolled his eyes, forked out his phone, and pulled up a news video. “This went viral this morning. Already has several million views.”

I held the phone and watched the video play. “Yesterday,” said a female reporter, “something extraordinary occurred in a local gas station in Tucson, Arizona. When a crook attempts to rob the store, a young man, heroically jumps into action and detains the would-be robber.”

My stomach dropped. I glanced up at Doug, my mouth gaping open. “Keep watching,” he said. “It gets better.”

“While the young man’s heroism is fascinating,” the reporter continued, “the way in which he stops the crook is especially extraordinary. The scuffle was caught on camera, and you may not believe your eyes as you watch the scene. We want you to know that this video has not been tampered with or edited in any way.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

A video of the gas station came up with poor resolution. I could see myself standing behind the crook as he pointed the gun at the cashier. The video caught it all. It showed me snatch the gun away from him, break it with my bare hands, and then push him out the window. While the video played, the reporter explained to the viewers that I had unbelievably expressed what appeared to be superhuman abilities. Even though the video was a little fuzzy, the viewers could clearly tell that I had been moving inhumanly fast and was inhumanly strong. My stomach sunk deeper.

The video cut back to the female reporter. “We go now,” she said, “to the Super Hero Scuffle in Tucson for some eyewitness testimonials.”

“He saved my life,” said the lady cashier in a quivering voice. “I still don’t understand how he did it, but I’m grateful.”

“Yes, he is definitely a super hero,” said an older lady with blonde hair. I recognized her from the store. “And I really mean super. It was unbelievable what he did. I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. And I’m a very realistic person. Not superstitious at all. And everyone in the store said they saw the same thing. He moved in a blur and snapped a gun in half like it was made out of plastic! And his eyes—this is going to sound really crazy, but it’s true—they were glowing!”

“He was young,” said a middle-aged guy with a hat on. “Probably still in high school. Immature too. I tried to get him to stick around when the police came, but he took off in his truck. Maybe he didn’t want anyone to recognize him.”

“Would you consider him a super human?” a reporter asked off screen.

“Uh, I don’t know,” he said. “I showed up right when he threw the guy through the window. It seemed pretty incredible for a kid his age, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say that he’s Superman or anything.”

“Were his eyes glowing?”

“Um, yeah, actually they were, now that you mention it. But, you can do anything with contacts these days, right?”

The video cut to another guy that I didn’t recognize. “It was amazing, you know?” he said. “It was like straight out of the movies, man! Except that I think the kid was holding back, you know? I think that if he wanted to, he could have blown up the whole gas station with his laser vision, man!”

“Would you say he’s a super human, then?” the reporter asked.

“Oh yeah. He’s super human, alright. No doubt about it.”

The video cut back to replay the scuffle in the store. The reporter spoke while it played. “The majority of the eyewitnesses claim that the young hero was indeed a super human. While this may seem incredible, the video does not lie. And I repeat, that it has not been tampered with.” The video froze on a close-up on my face. I held my breath. “The young man has been identified as 17-year old, Ray Simmons, Tucson High School student and football team’s quarterback. Is he really a super human? We—”

I shoved the phone back into Doug’s hands before the video finished. I pulled on my backpack’s straps and started speed walking, panicked. What was I going to do? Why hadn’t I been more careful at the gas station? Doug followed. “They identified you, Ray,” he said. “I wouldn’t have believed this video for a second if I hadn’t seen what you did during football practice.”

“It was all an accident, okay!” I snapped. “I didn’t mean to throw the ball that far. I didn’t mean to hurt Mighty Jaime. And at the gas station, I didn’t—”

“—expect to get caught on camera,” Doug interrupted. I kept on walking, trying to get to my truck and get out of here a soon as possible. A lot of students were staring and pointing at me as I walked by. “So, tell me,” Doug said. “Are you a super human or not? Are you an alien from Krypton or something?”

“I’m not an alien,” I said flatly.

He walked with me, still waiting for an answer. “Well, what then?”

“I don’t want to tell you, Doug, because I know you’re terrible at keeping secrets. You’ll tell everyone you know.”

“No, I won’t!” he snorted. “Besides, it’s not much of a secret now is it? The whole world already knows you’re superhuman.”

“They think I’m superhuman. They still don’t know for sure.”

“Well,” Doug said as he tried to keep up with me. “Maybe they’ll have a better idea after they hear about what happened at football practice yesterday.”

I stopped walking and turned on him, glaring as I grabbed his shirt. “You would tell them?”

“Why not?” he said, not backing down. Doug wasn’t as big as me, but he didn’t fear me like most guys at school. He knew me too well. “If you’re not a superhuman, then it’s no big deal, right? But, if you are… then I’ll have a reason to stay quiet.”

“You’re threatening me?” We were between the two buildings nearest to the parking lot. Students were walking by, paying closer attention to our conversation than I’d wanted.

“Maybe. Maybe not. It’s only a threat if you’re actually what everyone is saying you are: a freak.”

I shoved him away from me and kept walking. He was really starting to get on my nerves. Doug didn’t follow me this time. “Fine!” he said behind my back. “If you won’t say anything, I will!”

That was it! In a blur, I spun around, grabbed Doug by the throat, and—with one hand—lifted him into the air. My insides were burning with energy; I had ignited my powers unconsciously. Doug’s eyes were wide in shock as he clawed at my arm, trying to break my grip.

Then, I smelled something. Something awful. It smelled like something was burning… like burning flesh. I hadn’t noticed until now that my hand was bright red. Doug’s flesh! I dropped him, horrified at what I’d done.

Doug squirmed on the ground, holding his throat and coughing for air. His neck looked discolored and blistered. “Your eyes…” he wheezed. He coughed some more, unable to finish his sentence. I suddenly realized how stupid this was. Without a word, I’d just given him exactly what he was looking for: confirmation that I am... a freak. He looked pale, as if he’d seen a ghost, probably in shock.

I glanced around. A small clump of students had surrounded us, unable to peel their eyes from the scene. Were my eyes still glowing? I broke through the small circle of students and jogged toward the parking lot. I tried to dampen the burning feeling as I ran. As I turned the corner around the last school building to get to the parking lot, I skid to a stop, unable to believe what I was seeing.

Between me and my truck was a throng of news reporters. Five or six news vans were parked on the side of the parking lot. Camera technicians were filming reporters as they interviewed random students. Photographers were snapping pictures of the school in the background.

“There he is!” shouted a voice. In almost perfect unison, every reporter, camera guy, photographer, and student turned their heads toward me. And then they started sprinting in my direction.

Panic washed over me. Now, don’t get me wrong… I had always loved the idea of popularity and fame. I really enjoyed being the most popular guy at school, and I planned on being a famous football star—at least I did. But, this… this was too much, too fast! And for the wrong reasons! I lowered my head and made a beeline for my truck.

The first reporter, a guy in a suit with grey hair and a microphone, blocked my path. “Ray Simmons,” he said. “Can you tell us how you stopped the thief in the gas station yesterday?” He pointed the microphone at me.

“Um…” I mumbled.

I tried to move around him but was stopped by another reporter. She had dark hair and wore too much perfume. “Mr. Simmons, are you a super human?”

“No,” I responded, probably not convincing enough. I was still shaken by what I’d done to Doug. “I’m not.” I tried walking around her, but she followed me.

“Then how did you do what you did yesterday?” she prodded.

“I… uh…”

“Are you on drugs?” another reporter asked. A guy with a clean-cut beard.

“No!”

“Steroids?”

“I already said no!” They were making it hard to get to my truck. Nearly all of the news crews had their microphones in my face by now. Photographers were snapping pictures of me. Cameras were all aimed at me, as if they were ready to deliver a head shot. I thought about running, leaving them in a blur, but that would give them exactly what they were looking for: evidence that I’m superhuman. I couldn’t make the same mistake twice. “Just leave me alone!” I said as I pushed my way through them.

Unfazed, the newscasters followed me to the truck, asking me all sorts of questions. I didn’t answer any of them. I finally got to my truck, climbed in, slammed the door, and heaved a big sigh. This was crazy! I thought.

Several photographers were still snapping pictures of me from outside my truck. I turned the engine and pulled out. The newscasters moved out of the way evading getting caught under my wheels. I sped out of the parking lot toward home.

My hands were trembling on the wheel. How did these reporters get here so fast? I wondered. The gas station thing had happened just yesterday! Why are they so interested in me? I ran a hand through my hair. I guess it is a pretty big story. A real-life superhero? Yeah, that’s never happened before.

My thoughts turned to Doug. How could I be so stupid? I should’ve just told him. Maybe he would’ve kept the secret. I felt sick inside as I remembered the smell of his burning flesh. He was right… I am a freak.

I turned on some loud music, but it didn’t drown my feelings out like it did in the past. This was serious. The whole world knows that I might be superhuman, I thought. So much for Inferno. There’s really no point in hiding my identity now. Maybe I could still convince them that I’m not superhuman. Maybe… maybe not. Not if they get a chance to talk to Doug. Maybe I could run away. I pressed my lips together into a thin line and punched the steering wheel. Why did I touch that stupid stone!

I drove over the speed limit, not caring whether I got pulled over or not. This day had turned sour really fast. I was grateful school was over, no more football practice, and now I could get away from it all at home. Once I could see my house in the distance, I slammed on the breaks and cursed.

Parked along the street around my house were several white vans… news vans.