James Knight: Teenage Superhuman - Book One

Fifteen

I gripped my backpack straps as I walked down the hallway. On my way to my locker, I ran into Mia. Her eyes shimmered as she stumbled over her shoelace, but I swiftly caught her, holding her in my arms.

"James," she said, batting her eyelashes as she turned to face me. Taking a deep breath, I knelt to tie her shoe, avoiding direct eye contact with her mesmerizing ocean-blue eyes. Derek and Sam were right. I had developed strong feelings for Mia.

"Hey, Mia," I greeted her, my attention focused on the knot on her left shoe. "How did you do your science homework?" I glanced up briefly, noticing her adjusting her shoulder straps.

Mia grinned. "I managed fine," she replied, her lips forming a wide smile. Her grin grew as she added, "Thank you, James." Rising from the floor, I returned the smile, clutching my backpack as I turned to head toward my locker.

"No problem. I need to get to class," I motioned down the hallway.

"Okay," she winked, leaning in closer. "Talk to you later, James." See you later.

∆∆∆

Despite having superpowers, I could have been more enthusiastic about participating in sports. However, I could throw a ball if I wanted to. Mark and his friends always targeted me during dodgeball, throwing all their balls simultaneously to make me appear vulnerable. I watched them do it, knowing what would happen.

Max, Lucas, and Gale stood huddled in the corner, chatting while holding their balls in their left hands. I averted my gaze as they stared at me. We lined up against the wall after Coach French blew her whistle.

"I have two rules for this game: play fair and no fighting under any circumstances. Go out there and kick some dodgeball ass," Coach French grunted, blowing her whistle. We assumed our positions, and Mark scowled at me while I stood in the middle like an easy target. My muscles tensed as he smirked, aiming his ball at me. Max muttered, his ball clenching in his fist. Coach French blew the whistle again, and a barrage of balls rained down on me.

I never knew a hit from a padded ball could hurt so much until now. One ball struck me right in the ribs, causing excruciating pain. Clutching my side, I curled into a fetal position to maintain dignity. Whoever threw that ball had inhuman strength. While everyone gathered the balls from the floor, I scanned the room, my eyes on Noah.

"How are you holding up, champ?" Coach French asked. As I dragged myself off the ground and brushed off the dust, I watched Mark's smirk.

"Could be better," I grimaced, still clutching my ribs.

"Alright, take a seat on the bench," Ms. French directed me, pointing to a small chair in the corner of the room. Swallowing my pride, I walked over and sat down.

Max, Mark, and a group of boys stood there for about half an hour, watching the students pour out of the gym. Boys lined up on one side, girls on the other, heading towards the locker rooms.

As Mark walked by, he slammed me against my locker. Tension filled the locker room as several others glared at Mark and me.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" a group of boys chanted. My fists clenched, and my guard went up.

Mark sneered and chuckled, his locker swinging open. "Watch your back, freak," he growled, his eyes darkening and a sneer forming.

"What the hell is your problem?" I snarled, my hands tightening even more.

Max sneered. "You're a bloody idiot," he said, smugly grinning as my gaze locked onto him. Noah stood in the background, chewing on his hangnails, observing the situation.