Coffee Hero

II

For the most part, the gym still looked the same as last year: both sets of risers on the north and south side of the gym jutted out, filled to the brim with students, with two sets of doors on the east and west sides of the gym. At those doors stood Heroes at guard, scanning the echoing hall that reverberated with excitement. It felt like a high school pep rally.

The lights dotting the ceiling switched off. My head pounds from behind my eyes and I blinked a few times like I had a lash stuck in my eye. I have to keep it together. One wrong slip, a flick of the switch, and something bad will happen.

Caramel macchiato. Matcha latte. Dark roast. Something to better ground me—I needed to get some more coffee before going to the rest of my classes tonight. If the roast is already wearing off, then all prospect of getting past the first round this semester were gone.

My heart clenched and a figure appeared in my mind. Wizened, angled eyes and crows feet, face soft but creased like cardboard, and black hair with few grey streaks unplucked. Better luck next time, girl. Your parents are rolling in their graves. I took a deep breath. Grandmother didn't approve much of failure.

In the darkness of the gym, multiple sparks flitted to life, like the flicking of lighters at a concert. Colors of all sorts lit up the gym in varying luminescence, blue and gold to my left and red just up ahead and across the gym. Lights erupted from the chests of Lumos users, people who emanated light once darkness ate them, and spread across their bodies.

In a flourish, a flash whirled from the center of the gym. Waves of color, all across the rainbow, bounced off the walls. A tall dark man, whose body was thick with muscles, stood in the center of the small universe of the gym, almost rotating like a disco ball.

Beacon, one of the professors of the Hero Studies program, was a country-wide legend. His ability to harness his Lumos, one of the most common Sight Senses, was unmatched.

He only took your father's place as the best Lumos once he died. It's a shame your Sense is so cruel and disgusting that you will never know such power. I inwardly waved Grandmother away. She was never happy, no matter what. Nothing pleased her unwavering, judging eyes.

Gods. I needed coffee. If I wasn't careful–

"All Lumos students, please step down toward the front and follow Professor Beacon," a voice mumbled through the speakers. The lights flicked on, Beacon's Lumos switched off, and the glowing students made their way to the man in the middle. With the lights on, and even from afar, Beacon's unwavering smile reflected ambition and pure happiness. At the sight, a flicker of pain flashed through my chest–if only some of us were so lucky as to have that kind of happiness.

As they walked out of the gym, Beacon practically prancing as he went through the northeast doors, numerous checks of Senses prevailed: Sight, Hearing, Touch, Smell, and Taste—though there were fewest of the latter as time went on. Sight and Hearing Senses were the most common, while the rest were uncommon or rare. I glanced down at the crinkled sheet of paper in my hand that the receptionist gave me. A number three, in thick, bold print, glared back at me from the off-white paper.

"Undocs," the speaker above me echoed. "Step forward and go through the doors on the other end of the gym."

Senseless, Grandmother said. You are Senseless.

Yellow scales and slitted eyes walked past me, casually grabbing my bag off the seat next to me and throwing it down a few risers in front. It finally landed with an echoing thump at the third to last riser from the bottom.

"See you around, Senseless," they whispered. A grin addled with sparkling shark teeth stared back at me, so I looked away and got up from my seat.

Their chest puffed out, a mischievous flash crossed their eyes, and I walked past them. A hand pressed firmly against the middle of my back, sharpened talons pricked my skin through my shirt–I was sure there had to be small punctures in the fanned-shape of a hand.

"Do not engage in behavior unbecoming of a Hero," a voice boomed from the center of the gym.

I glanced up and my eyes connected with a set of two flustering hurricanes, grey and green woven together like the perfect storm. Unfurled behind him was a set of feathered wings, twice his height in wingspan, like that of a hyacinth macaw. Mother always wanted to host a sanctuary for them to hopefully bring their population back, before she died. My eyes were glued to the brilliant royal blue feathers.

That's who he was. I read about him in a HeroUnlimited article: Hyacinth, one of the only Undoc Heroes, spread his wings for the first time on the West Coast, rescuing victims from wildfires. He became a legend quickly when a few assholes set off fireworks in California around the 4th of July.

He was just a teacher's assistant, though, and not a professor. Everyone knew that. The thought made my stomach do flips.

Slit-eyes took their hand off my back. "Looks like you have a guardian angel, Senseless. Best watch your back."

They stomped past me, making their way down the steps and toward the center. I stepped on each riser as I went for my backpack and looked around. Two other Undocs stepped forward to join Hyacinth and the slit-eyed student. As I scooped up my backpack, I connected again with the two hurricanes before looking away.

Absolutely not.

Word count: 968