James Knight: Teenage Superhuman - B2

Book Three Ch 1

JAMES

My phone buzzed again. I groaned, shifted in the passenger seat, and pulled it from the pocket of my hoodie. I was half-asleep, forehead pressed against the window, letting the desert stretch blur past outside.

Voicemail.

I tapped play.

"Look, kid. I don't know what kind of baby mamma drama you got going on at home, but you need to come get your kids. They're doing some weird shit, and I'm pretty sure I didn't smoke today..."

The woman's voice cracked like she hadn't slept in days — irritated, maybe a little scared — which honestly made sense. Considering the "kids" in question could bench press a vending machine or teleport through walls, "weird" was putting it mildly.

I played it again. And again.

"Mate," Noah muttered beside me, leaning closer to hear it a third time. "If she only bloody knew."

We were about twelve miles out from Arizona, packed in Derek's dysfunctional CRV. I sat up front with Derek, who was laser-focused on the road. The back row was a war zone — Grace squished in the middle, wedged between Noah and me, her earbuds in but clearly listening. Behind us, Mark sat by the window with Bryce next to him, both quiet. For now.

Mark tilted his head toward us, his arms crossed, sunglasses halfway down his nose. "You two have fun dealing with that disaster. Bryce and I are going to go find out how pissed off my dad is. And no, Noah, you're not invited."

I twisted in my seat to look at him. "Good luck with that, Mark. You fucked up."

Mark scoffed, pulled his shades back on. "Funny you say that, Noah." He tossed the insult lazily across the row like he couldn't be bothered to keep track of who was speaking.

Noah made a face. "Rude."

He waved a hand, and the stereo clicked on with a soft electrical snap — turned up by his damn mind again. The speakers crackled.

A beat dropped.

Noah grinned wide. That grin meant trouble.

"She's not with him tonight," he sang, surprisingly on-key. "She is not with Jim tonight. She is in the gym tonight..."

"Noah," Grace warned, deadpan.

"Workout in that pussy," Noah went on, louder now. "I'm gettin' ripped tonight. R.I.P. that—"

"SHUT UP!" All of us yelled at once — Grace smacked his chest, Bryce groaned like he was being tortured, and Derek, without breaking eye contact with the road, flicked on the turn signal and pulled hard into the nearest gas station.

The brakes squealed as he parked. "Everyone out. I need ten minutes without your voice, Noah."

Noah snorted, unbothered. "You're welcome."

I opened the door and stepped out onto hot gravel, stretching my arms over my head. The air smelled like heat and gasoline and dust. There was a vending machine buzzing nearby and a sun-faded picnic table under a crooked tree that offered zero shade.

Mark stepped out last, slamming the back door behind him. "You're lucky my dad's more worried about my life choices than yours," he muttered to Noah.

Noah grinned. "Please. I'm everyone's favorite disappointment."

Bryce sat on the hood, sipping from a lukewarm Gatorade. "You're definitely someone's disappointment," he said.

I looked over at Grace. She hadn't taken out her earbuds, but she raised one brow like she could hear every word. She could always hear every word.