Coffee Hero

I

The answers to all of the world's problems could be found at the bottom of a coffee cup.

Today, they sat in the final drops of my caramel macchiato. The drive to Haven University was long, but today it was unnecessarily so—traffic held me up on The Silver Lumos Bridge, and the aftermath of a Neverhero attack left it damaged and unsafe to drive over until fixed. I normally found it difficult to stay awake, but the warmed caramel and double shot espresso shifted me into gear this morning. I slurped the last of it before chucking the paper cup to the back of my beat-up, white Honda Civic.

The packet of papers in my hand crumpled slightly, hands sweaty, so I wiped my palms on my pants, swapping the papers between hands. The parking garage chilled, colder than usual, once I stepped out of my car.

"Race you to try-outs!" someone, a tall boy with electric blue hair, yelled as he flashed by me, kicking up the piles of red and yellow leaves gathered in empty parking spots. A harsher chill coaxed goosebumps onto my arms, like a needle beneath a thick knit cotton cloth, and I shivered. I attempted to smooth the pricking needles with my free hand and squeezed a breath out in a cloud of hot air.

Another flash in green whizzed by me, tossing a laugh to the wind as if it were the easiest thing in the world, twirling the floating leaves into a straight path toward Haven Gym. A crowd followed behind the two speedy students and I hurried to the front doors. Always odd to see such a large group of students at six in the morning, but prospective Heroes looked forward to this day.

Today was try-outs, after all, and I couldn't be late again.

"Turn in your applications and take a seat in the gym, students," a voice commanded over the speakers.

I squeezed through one of the front doors, students pushing and shoving by me to get in line. All I had to do was follow, no need to rush.

A whistle, clean and clear, from around the corner to my right caught my attention. Like a light switch flicked on in my mind, my head snapped to the sound and I looked around to find the source. Darkened silhouettes materialized around the line of students to reception, looking in on us. I shook my head and my heart stumbled in beats—gods, I needed to get ahold of myself.

Another Hero wannabe? One figure mumbled, touching the head of a student and running an oozing ink hand down their shoulder before gripping it.

My legs gelatinized, wobbling and shaking like the ground was cracking open like an egg. I had to get myself together before they noticed that I saw them. Things were dangerous once they did.

These kids have no chance. Why even try if you could end up dead like us? A sharp whisper in my ear and I dug my thumb nail into the side of my pointer finger. It was all I could do to react–or rather, keep myself from reacting any further.

The dead spirits of prospective students. Heroes alike said this test wasn't easy, but nobody mentioned death.

Four student groups marked with lively, colorful auras, a snack table next to the water fountain with more dark figures hovering about and reaching for food, and a pillar in the corner. Nothing. Another waste of my time. I needed to keep a better hold on my Switch today. I shook my head and turned my Switch off, my emotions and thoughts melting away. The dark figures who hung about dissipated and I sighed. Alone at last.

Once I moved to the front of the line, I handed the receptionist my application. Her hair was bunched in a messy topknot and the smell of cheap, bitter coffee wafted toward me from the styrofoam cup that sat next to the list of names on the table. Her eyes, a deep brown iris with buried gold flecks, slipped into a lavender purple shade as she flipped through my application.

"Identification, please," she asked without looking at me. I swung my backpack around and put it on the table.

"Instant coffee today?" I pulled my student I.D. from my wallet and handed it to her.

"Whatever the college chooses to give us."

I nodded. Haven University wanted a fully funded Hero Studies program, not a coffee bar. Their loss, really. Good coffee did wonders for morale.

"Now, it says here that you don't have a Sense. Is that accurate?"

"Yes." I slipped my student I.D. back into my wallet once she slid it toward me on the table.

The receptionist nodded and closed my application before giving it to someone who stood behind her. "Understood. Please take this number and go inside the gym."

I swiped the sheet of paper off the table and walked toward the gym.

"Did you hear that?" A voice whispered. My eyes glanced to my left and another group of students darted their eyes away from me.

One student, skin coated with yellow scales and eyes with slitted pupils, smirked. "Who does she think she is, trying without a Sense? She's going to die."

Three tries later and still not dead, though I did have the coffee to thank if I passed the first round this time. No need to feel my emotions or the emotions of others if I had coffee. All I needed was coffee. Nothing else.

I brushed past the group and their whispers. All I needed to do was find a seat, not indulge petty people who wanted to stroke their egos. Getting away from them was my new priority.

"Running away now? I see what kind of person you are," the slit-eyed student laughed. Bullies had nothing on me when I had my Switch on.

A line into the stands stood a few feet away from me, so I looked around for an empty spot. At this point, try-outs were going to start and free seats were in short supply. The gym could hold many people, an above-average size for a basketball gym. Some people shifted down at the top of the risers to reveal a spot, so I hurried up, cutting the line, and sat down before anyone else could. Outrage from other students in line erupted around me and I placed my backpack on the ground between my feet.

I could already tell that today was going to be a very, very long day.

Word Count: 1100