Chapter 2: What's Expected

Chapter 2: What's Expected

A Chapter by Andrew M. Davis
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I rewrote this chapter from scratch recently, along with chapter 1 and then split chapter two into two chapters so as to adequately have enough space to develop my characters as they need to be!

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I was equally as excited for what this new day would bring as I was terrified. There was a reason I never joined any sports before, and it was a pretty good one. Shall I go into it?

Well, I can fly. I have super strength. I have super speed. I can hear everything, literally everything, and it often makes me uncomfortable, but I am never going to get into the details about why it makes me uncomfortable. I can breathe underwater. Not just hold my breath for a really, really long time, like, actually breathe underwater. No, I don’t have gills, and I don’t know why I can breathe underwater because it has absolutely no relation to any of my other powers. There’s probably some reason, I just don’t know it. And, to finish it off, I am completely invulnerable.

I’ve tested that theory too. During one of my many times traveling around the world after I had learned to fly, I flew to Germany, beautiful place by the way. While I was there I found this old train yard, where they had all of these old train cars that were rusted and immovable. Oh, I had a hay day there. It was the best, especially since there were no workers.

Basically what happened is that I took one of the ancient train cars, which had been rusted to the end of the train tracks and another train car, broke it free, and dropped it on myself. My intent was to leave a me-like dent in the side of the train, but that’s not quite what happened. I flew almost a mile into the air and then dropped the train car. I then dropped back down to the ground and adjusted myself accordingly so that the train car would land on top of me.

Like I said, my entire goal for this trip was to create a me-sized dent in a train car, but what actually happened was that, when the train car landed on me, it broke it half. In. Half. I was actually pretty mad. The rust had set in deep, so when it fell on my body as I laid flat on the ground, it gave way to an unbreakable force and just broke. On top of that, or, rather, under that, I was covered in rust stains, and it smelled bad. At least the trip was cool.

I stared out my window on the second floor of my house. No matter where I looked, trees were surrounding them, but they weren’t tall enough yet to block my view of the houses beyond.

My dad, Darius Aleppo Amazia, not that his name is important, got lucky when he bought this plot of land. The trees were young, but he knew that one day they would be perfect to give us a little bit of privacy, and he liked his privacy. So he built the house, two stories and a basement, got married, had a kid, let the trees grow, and BAM, perfection. No other houses in the area were even remotely as secluded as our house. My dad is a winner.

The morning was already foggy. I could see it rolling in like a tide over the nearby houses and trees. By the time I left to head to school, the roads would almost be completely covered in the dense fog, not that it truly made any difference to me. One burst of speed and I could disperse it in an instant, but I could also get to school with my eyes closed, dodging perfectly between buildings, streets, cars, anything.

I was already contemplating putting on a burst of speed and crashing through the fog, but there was really no use in me getting to school earlier than I needed to and dissipating the fog before its time came. So, I would walk, and I’d be fine with it.

I walked downstairs, listening to my mom, who was already up and about, working like a racehorse to get breakfast ready for me. I probably could have figured something out for myself. I usually did, but she was probably worried I’d be too stressed out by talking Erik and Sarah into coming over, so she was making something special. I hit the bottom of the staircase and dropped my backpack near my shoes by the door and then turned around towards the kitchen.

“Hi, mama,” I greeted her as I strode through the door and opened the fridge. It was a habit of mine. She was already almost done with breakfast; I just couldn’t help myself.

“Good morning, Korbin!” She said excitedly. “I’m already preparing eggs, toast and sausage for you, so don’t worry about fending for yourself this morning.”

“Ok, sounds good,” I responded and shut the fridge, as if I had been oblivious to the fact the food was for me.

I took a seat at the kitchen table and waited for her to set the plate of food down in front of me. I immediately began to stuff my face full of food.

“Fshanks moom!” I said appreciatively to her through the food in my mouth.

“You’re welcome. Are you excited for today?” she asked.

“Kinda,” I said, swallowing. “A little nervous too.”

“Nervous because of Erik?”

“Ew, no,” I refuted, shoving half the buttered toast in my mouth. “Because I’m trying out for the football team!”

“You’re trying out for a sport?” my mother asked, taken aback.
            “Don’t act so surprised, lady. I can do physical things.”

My mother laughed at my remark. “I believe you. I just didn’t expect you to want to do any sports. You always talk about how the football players are such, what’s the word you use? D*****s?”

“Mom, don’t say that! You can’t use that word!”

“Why can you use that word?”

“Because.”

“Well, ok then,” she agreed with a smile.

My mother stood up and took the plate from under me as I swept the last few pieces of eggs into my mouth. I stood up and expertly flung the fork into the sink over her shoulder.

“Korbin!” my mother chided loudly.

“Sorry,” I said, chuckling. “I’m going to head out now.”

“Have fun today, Korbin,” she called to me.

“Yeah, right,” I responded as I swept my backpack onto my shoulders, slid on my shoes and headed out the door.

The morning was chilly, but it had no effect on me. Whether hot or cold, temperature never did anything to me. I had never had goose bumps, or heat sweats, or anything. The perks of being a super powered sixteen year old.

I traveled most of the way to school with my head down. I didn’t really care who was on the sidewalks passing by. I moved out of their way long before they reached me, so I had no reason to pay much attention to anything more than moving one foot in front of the other.

I was walking faster than I did the night before. Of course, I had less time to get to school this morning than I did coming home last night. My black backpack felt practically weightless as it rested as light as a feather on my shoulders. I was holding strongly onto the resolve that I would join the football team. I didn’t care about the people who were on it, and the exercises definitely wouldn’t bother me much. Though, now that I thought about it, that may be an odd thing for people to see. Everyone else would be super tired by the end of practice and I would be acting like it barely even started.

I’d have to figure out a way to act as if the exercises were as straining to me as they were to everyone else, but still be the best. It wasn’t that I had to be the best, but I had the capacity to be, so why not live up a little to my potential.

I finally looked up when my school came within eyesight through the fog. It stood as a barrier blocking my way forward. It was an unfortunate barrier, because I couldn’t knock it down. I had to endure its torture.

The brick face of the school building was bare and boring, but it was a high school, which meant that it didn’t have to be anything extravagant. People would go regardless of what it looked like. It was the law.

Once I reached the front doors of Eastwood High, I reached out and tapped the handicap button to open the closest door. Not that I wasn’t capable of doing it myself, I was just too lazy to reach out and grab hold of the door to pull it open manually. I mean, I had the luxury, why not use it, right?

I paused and waited for the door to open fully, dreading what lay inside. I was one hundred percent certain of how the day would go. It was like every other day, except for what came after, but that didn’t count.

The door finally came to a halt, opening its dark maw to allow me entry to the desolate space inside. Although there would be no students there yet, most of the teachers arrived early, preparing for the day. They prepped their homework, because they apparently had nothing better to do than to make us learn a thousand more things we already knew.

They would take the assignments and shove them down our throats, because they would be the determiner of whether or not we passed the semester. It was a horrible thing. It would be another boring day where I would learn almost nothing, be given a butt load of homework, and, of course, because I can’t forget this detail, probably get shoved into a wall, or thrown into the side of a locker, or at least some form of student imposed torture. Who wouldn’t be excited for school if you had all of that on their plate? I’m so blessed to be a part of this school.

Upon entering the building, I took an immediate left past the visitor’s kiosk and made my way directly to the athletic side of the building. Seeing as most of the teachers came early, I could be almost certain that the football coach would be in his office, ready to hear what I had to say. Because, obviously, what I had to say was the most important thing he had on his own plate.

The coach was different than most teachers. Where many of them came and dilly-dallied, he focused all of his efforts to ensure his plan for the day was well thought out, and then succinctly claimed that he never had any time to do it during the day. He was an intelligent man, despite the fact he was practically an adult bully. He could just get away with it, to a certain degree.

I reached the coaches office and rapped lightly on his door, which greeted me softly with a hollow, metallic sound. I didn’t feel like I needed to wait for an invitation to enter, I didn’t care either way, so I walked right into the room.

“Mr. Aaron,” I said formally, trying my best to be respectful. “I have a question for you.”

“Kid, please, everyone knows I like to be called Charlie. I’ve never gone by mister before, and I’m not about to start now,” he said, finishing up some writing he was doing on his desk before turning around to show his well-kept, yet slightly balding head and deep brown, sunken eyes standing out on his face, which looked like someone did a bad cropping job on the family photo. I almost laughed at the look on his face. It was a look of disappointment, as if I wasn’t worth his time. “Oh,” he said after a few awkward seconds, “Korbin, hello.” His demeanor had shifted almost immediately. I took pleasure in his awkward position. “What’s the question, kid?”

I sighed deeply, as if I was about to say something deeply personal to me. I watched him cringe before I began to speak. His attitude was already exasperating, and I had just entered the room. “Well,” I began coolly. “I was wondering if you would give me a chance to join the football team,” I said, cringing slightly myself.

He stared at me expectantly, as if I was supposed to start laughing or say the punchline to my joke. “Oh, haha,” he chuckled uncomfortably. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious, sir,” I replied.

“Don’t call me sir.” He sighed.

The pause he gave me was odd, and definitely not heartwarming in the slightest. Charlie Aaron tried, and failed miserably, to command his composure.

“HA!” He exclaimed loudly. “Hahahaha,” he laughed exuberantly.

I waited.

His laugh was almost a joke in itself. It was slightly real and slightly forced at the same time.

“You?” he was finally able to say. “You join the football team?”

“Yup.”

“Listen, kid, I’ve seen you sitting up there on the bleachers all the time just watching. When I ask my boys about you, they say one thing: That you are probably the wimpiest, if not the wimpiest, and weirdest kid in this school. So, that being said, why should I let you join my team? What makes you qualified?”

Mr. Charles Aaron cropped face stared at me expectantly, and I stared back with cold confidence, which had been bolstered tenfold by his insulting way of responding to me. “Because they,” I began, gesturing out towards the field where the team would usually be, “have spent their entire lives underestimating me. They have shoved me around, acted as if I was weak, went around telling people that too. But, never once have they given me a chance to prove myself. Never once did they take even a second to consider what I could, and actually can, do.”

He held up a finger. “Have you ever given them a reason not to treat you like that?” he asked, as if that was a good enough reason to justify his team’s behavior.

“Should that even matter at all?” I fired back. “Frankly, your team is underperforming. They haven’t been doing to hot lately, and I know you’re well aware of that, given the fact you’re the coach,” I jaded. “For starters, they’ve lost the last two games by a mile, and just barely won the one before with a lucky opportunity at a field goal, just three points.” I was animated. “Furthermore,” I said in an attempt to sound highly educated, “the teams you have been facing were child’s play. From here on out, they aren’t going to be that easy. They’re going to get harder and harder to beat. So, if you’re looking for the best, and if you actually want to start winning, then you’re just going to have to see me play.”

Crop face gave me a weird eye. He had expected this whole thing to be some elaborate joke. He had never expected me to be serious, let alone confident.

He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms with a look of deep thought on his face, but also mildly taken aback at my use of statistics on his own team. “So, and correct me if I’m wrong, you’re trying to use this game as your proving grounds? As a way to show you’re better than they think you are?” he asked, leaning forward and placing his hand to his chin in thought.

For a second it looked like he was staring at my belly button, but then he looked me in the eyes.

“You know, when I asked if you had given them a reason not to, I didn’t mean that you should do that with the potential of wasting not only my time, but all of theirs as well,” he emphasized dryly.

“Isn’t that what the entire team is doing? Showing their strength and stamina against better opponents in what they believe to be a high stakes game?” I asked, ignoring the second half of what he said entirely.

“Is it not?” he asked coldly. “Is this not a high stakes game?”

“It’s not high stakes,” I responded.

“It is to them,” he said, pointing in the direction of the field, mimicking what I had done previously. “Would you be bold enough to tell that to them? Because, as sure as hell, they won’t want you on the team if you’re not going to give it everything you’ve got, every ounce of whatever small amount of strength you have would be required in this game. They want to win, kid, and they sweat and bleed for it. Some of them are looking to go professional. Erik may even be good enough to. They don’t want you getting in the way of that dream.”

“Well, right now they’re pretty much getting in the way of that dream themselves. No one is going to want them the way that they play. Even if I just wanted to prove myself, why would I waste my own time with some fruitless dream that would just sink me further into the dog pit?”

Croppy was taken aback. “I see your point,” he conceded. “Tell you what, Korbin, if you are really serious about this, and I mean one hundred and ten percent, then I’ll give you a shot. After school today we’ll have a little unplanned scrimmage. Erik is the captain, so he gets to pick whoever he wants to be on his team, and then you’ll get the rest. I’m warning you, though, if this ends up just being a waste of my time, and theirs, I will make damn certain you get suspended. But, if you’re telling the truth, this should be a breeze,” he said, dismissing me with a wave of his hand and turning his back to me to face the blank screen of his computer.

“Mrs. Schultze wouldn’t be too fond of your tongue, Mr. Aaron,” I joked as I walked away.

“Mrs. Schultze can kiss my "“ he began to say. I quickly left ear shot, purposely getting out of range of his voice. I didn’t want to hear it anymore.

The day rolled on slowly and, from that point on, it dragged me behind it. First lunch would have to come before anything of significance could really happen, and, if I survived that, then the football tryouts would be a breeze.

I had to think of a way to ask Sarah and Erik to come over to my house after practice to work on the project. It was not going to be a fun ordeal, but it was a necessary evil. Then, after that, and only then, could I think about the tryouts. I would try out for the team, proceed to whoop everybody and get on the team, and then beat Erik at the same time. Joy.

The whole day quickly became a concentric circle of getting to class on time, as always, the bell ringing to get out of class, lumbering through crowded hallways full of awkward people having equally awkward conversations or encounters, followed by awkward couples doing awkward things awkwardly in front of everybody, all to get to my locker, while simultaneously doing my best to avoid those same awkward couples doing awkward things. Despite my attempts to avoid them, they always somehow managed to get in my way, and I could do nothing to stop the onslaught of their smooches. I would then find my way back to class, with new books, tired classmates, an equally exhausted teacher who didn’t want to deal with forty high school sophomores who wanted nothing to do with them , followed by boredom, boredom, boredom, and, guess what, more boredom: History, Math, Art, Music, and, finally, lunch rolled its shy little head around the carousel to show its face to me and save the last remaining strands of my pitifully exhausted life.

I stood in the lunch line almost drooling over the pitiful excuses for food. School food was the worst thing on the planet, sort of. There were a lot of worse things, but it, honestly, was pretty high up on the charts.

“But it’s delicious and nutritious,” the teachers say. Oh, yeah Frank Jamison, you art teacher you, then why do you always bring a boxed lunch to school, hand packed by old wifey no less.

There was nothing nutritious about it, Frank. The only reason anyone ate it is because, if they didn’t, they would starve, and no one wants to die in school, that’s the worst place for that to happen. It’s also the only thing around for miles to eat. They built the school in the center of a large residential area, because why not ruin kid’s lives by placing the worst thing in existence, second to school lunch, mere feet from their home?

So, unless we wanted to cannibalism, which would be just…gross, then, obviously, the only choice left would be school lunch. Yum.

I picked up my tray and walked through the line, letting the little old lunch ladies, with angry faces that looked as if they actually wanted to resort to cannibalism, scoop food onto it. There was something that looked remotely like sliced potatoes, but it had a gross looking cheesy goop sliding off of it with the appearance of saliva, so that would be yummy. Apart from the potatoes, there were only two things on my tray that looked remotely like food: grapes, which were exceptionally snappy today, and probably saved my life, and milk, which wasn’t even technically food seeing as it was liquid. At the end of the line the lunch ladies, coming in clutch, had put out little single person ice cream containers, basically one bite. I could almost consider that real, but only almost!

Exiting the lunch line, I searched for a place to sit. One of the few spots that was actually still open was right between Erik and Sarah, who, for some reason, found it completely inconvenient to sit next to each other today. Good job, friend-zoned boy toy, you ruined my life again.

That was it I guess. “Fate has decided,” I thought to myself in the deep monotone that I expected the Greek god Zeus to possess. It was obviously childish, but I didn’t care, it was awesome. It wasn’t like someone was going to read my mind, and then tell me about it. Not that that was impossible. Obviously, I was a super powered kid, there could just as easily be someone in this very school capable of reading my mind. Though, I sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case, because they’d be having the time of their life with all the things they could pluck from my brain: power, upon power, upon perfect, juicy blackmail.

I walked around the table to the open spot and plopped myself right down beside Sarah. Erik was also there, but so was Sarah, so I chose to think the best of it and think that I was sitting beside Sarah and not Erik, because, if I told that story, I would most definitely leave Erik out of it.

I felt sheer excitement boil up inside of me. The kind that is felt when you know you’re about to do something crazy, know you probably shouldn’t, but do it anyway, because yolo. I was literally ecstatic for what was about to happen next. Let the awkward encounter unfold.

“Hey, Erik!” I exclaimed both loudly and enthusiastically. “How are you today, friend?”

His face instantly became a mask of shock and confusion as he dropped his fork back onto his tray. “Uhhh,” was all he was able to force out of his mouth.

The table erupted in laughter immediately, probably at the fact that I had called him my friend. Most of the girls did that obnoxious, yet slightly cute, thing where they place their hand over their mouth, as if people seeing their faces when they laughed was a huge, whopping no-no. I’ll never understand females, but that’s probably a good thing.

I picked up my fork and stuck it straight down into the potato goop. Lifting up a huge chunk of it, I shoved it into my mouth. I instantly put a quirky smile on my face and looked over at Erik like I was super excited about something and said: “Wan kmver atter prakice?” I asked giddily with my head turned sideways. I knew what I had said was completely unintelligible; I still had a huge amount of food in my mouth.

“What?” he asked, sounding angry.

“I shed…” I paused to swallow and pointed at him with my empty fork, making sure the gulp was obvious. “Do you want to come over after practice?” I repeated, intelligibly this time.

“What? No. Of course not. What the heck?” His response was instantly gratifying, plus he sounded offended. Erik glanced around me at Sarah, who shrugged in response to his confused look, but gave me a smile. I couldn’t help but smile back.

I stabbed my fork into another pile of goop and then flicked it in his direction with my food still stuck to it. “Well,” I started, waving the food around, “ya kind of have to.”

He spluttered, spitting the milk he had begun drinking all over his tray. “Wait, I’m sorry, what?” Why do I have too?” Most of the kids at the table had ignored the conversation up until that point.

“He is actually kind of right,” Sarah piped in. “We have that project due tomorrow, and we have yet to do much, if any, work on it.” The kids immediately turned their attention elsewhere once homework was introduced to the mix.

“Oh,” Erik said shyly. “You could have just said that the first time instead of going through all that trouble.”

“What fun would that have been?”

“Shut up,” he said sourly, annoyed at me.

“So, then, yes, you guys will come over? My mom said she’d make us dinner and whatever,” I asked, looking between Erik and Sarah.

“Yeah, sure,” they said in tandem.

“Jynx!” Sarah said immediately.

Erik responded with laughed. How does she do that? She can make him laugh, and yet he doesn’t like her that way, and she doesn’t like him romantically either. Their relationship was much different than the average. It had a family-like touch to it.

Right then the bell rang, and it couldn’t come soon enough. We all stood up and dumped the leftover food in the trash and placed the trays in the open windows to the dish room.

Sarah came up behind me and matched my pace at my side, nudging my arm to get the attention she already had. “Smooth,” she said, looking into my face. “A little awkward, you could use some work, but smooth nonetheless.

She then turned down the next hallway towards her locker. I smiled after her, wanting to follow, but what could I say? Plus, I needed to get to class. 




© 2016 Andrew M. Davis



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Added on July 12, 2016
Last Updated on July 12, 2016
Tags: New, Genesis, Epic-fantasy, High-fantasy, Superhero, hero, power, villain, battle, fantasy, science-fiction


Author

Andrew M. Davis
Andrew M. Davis

Roseville, MN



About
My name is Andrew Davis. I am an avid writer who spends most of his time writing in the realm of Sci-fi/Fantasy. I have written two novels with the overarching title of Genesis. The first one is self-.. more..

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