Help! I'm Housing a Hero

Chapter 1: Riel Glace

          I felt my head nodding as I began to drift to sleep in my History class. I had pulled another late shift at work the previous night. Already bills weren’t easy to pay and I was still in high school. I was usually a top-of-the-class straight-A student. I had to be. No one wanted to live like my parents had, or rather, like my single mother. She couldn’t control her ability to have children and after having the sixth baby I decided the house was too crowded; it was time for me to move out.

          My dad was killed by some super-tronic android when I was little. Apparently, it came through the town like Godzilla, crushing people on a whim under another one of those evil scientist’s sure-not-to-fail plans. There seemed to be a great deal of crazies around, all trying to outdo one another. That was until a mysterious arrival appeared. Yes, you guessed it: a super hero. He arrived in our loud, boisterous city almost two years ago like a sparkling crack of lightening in the night. A particular scientist, one known to have overabundant amounts of money to throw away, had released an army of metal droids to round up the officials and reek all kinds of havoc. Suddenly, this stunningly powerful man appeared and shut the whole thing down. Actually, he was a boy. I’d never met him, nor had anyone else, but I we assumed he was just shy.

          I’m sure all girls had their fantasies about heroes being their age so that they may one day possibly have a chance to be rescued by him and fall madly in love. I never understood how that worked in story books. How could some damsel in distress be rescued form a life threatening situation and want to immediately throw the hero in their bed as soon as they were deposited safely back in their house? Didn’t girls have morals? Maybe the heroes had super powers of seduction.

          Still, it seemed like I was the same typical girl. I would do anything for something like a daring rescue to at least spice up my boring life. But I’m sure you want to hear more about this hero. He, of course, has a costume and everyone assumes he has a secret identity. I mean who would want to walk around in black and red tights twenty-four seven? Either he was really addicted to rescuing or he decided to take root in our city. Whatever his lifestyle was no one really knew. Like all heroes in books they accepted the gratitude form the rescue and then just took off without anyone knowing any more about him; except for the fact that he proved once more to be able to rescue someone in the nick of time.

          Like all things odd and unusual everyone wanted to give this hero a name. After all you can’t just go around saying, “Oh look there is that-guy-that-rescues-people-and-flies-around-in-uncomfortable-looking-spandex-that-might-be-handsome under that mask of his.” So they shortened it to Hero. I mean, why not call him directly what he was? I was sure the press just had a slow day in the office and couldn’t come up with something like Superman or Amazing Lad. Surprisingly, people started calling him Hero and that was all we knew about him.

           He knocked out many of the Evil geniuses’ buildings or laboratories and crime started to dwindle, aside from the random bank robberies or suicidal jumpers, who of course were only to be caught in the muscular arms of the ‘Hero' life was beginning to be normal.

          I sighed realizing I was doodling pictures of Hero’s mask in my note margins while trying not to fall asleep. I glanced around the room at the rest of the class, measuring how they were faring against the monotonous drone of the professor. I wasn’t used to being so out of focus. As I stated earlier, I was once an honour roll student, aimed at success. Mostly my time at home was taken up with studying to attempt to block out the chaos of home life. My Mum wouldn’t bother me if she knew I was in my room being productive while trying to make a better life for myself than she had.

          She was a drunk. She had been a party girl in her younger years, but she had completely cleaned up her act for my dad. They were as love sick with each other as you can get, and anyone that met them on the street might think that even though they had been married for fifteen years they were newlyweds. That was just their love bond. Unfortunately, after Dad died Mum’s soul seemed to go with him, and she turned back into her old ways. As the oldest, it was my job to take care of the other four (soon to be five then six) children while Mum was out doing whatever it was she did to keep a roof over our heads.