Dignified

Chapter ten

The next morning, Ryan woke to a start. He realized he was sweating and he seemed to have been shifting around a lot. Before he woke, Ryan had been having a nightmare, rerunning the memory of being attacked. What did it mean? Who was that guy? What did he want? Why him? He sighed, rolling out of bed as the questions circled his head. He ran into Clark as he was leaving his room. "Oh, hey. Sorry." Clark said.

"It's alright. Hey, um, I, Dad...I spoke to Dad last night.." He muttered.

Clark's eyes widened. "What did he say?" He said,gripping Ryan's shoulders. "What'd he do, or what did he say?" Ryan sighed, pulling away from Clark. "Nothing. He didn't do anything. He just scolded me for staying up late and for stuttering." He said, walking towards the terrace. He pulled off his shirt, ruffling his hair before diving into the pool. The water was cold and felt good against his sweating skin. He swam to the bottom, pulling himself on the floor. He breathed the water, which felt so good to him, kicking off the smooth bottom and breaking through the top. He swam to the edge, looking over the clear, glass railing. The world beneath him buzzed with life, busy cars and people moving hurriedly along the streets. He smirked, thinking about how much L.A. Reminded him of New York. He cupped some water in his hands, throwing over the edge and smiling as he watched it fall. "Wonder who that's going to hit." He said, laughing. He scrunched his eyebrows together in thought, getting out of the pool. "I wonder.." He said, standing on a ledge over the pool. He jumped off, trying to hover before falling straight into the pool. He got out, trying again. He stood on the ledge, closing his eyes as he focused. He took a step outward, imagining the ground where he stepped. Ryan's eyes widened as he looked down, realizing he wasn't on the pool's ledge anymore.

"No way." He laughed, looking around and breaking his concentration. He fell back in, hurriedly stepping out. "Hey, Clark!" He called, drying himself as he entered the penthouse. His older brother turned to look at him. "What's up?" Ryan ran over to him, a wide smile on his face. "Hey, believe it or not, but I think we can fly." He said excitedly.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, first of all, we have freaking super powers now, so anything's possible. And secondly, because I was standing on the ledge of the pool and I stepped off and I was floating in the air!" He said. Clark grinned, running towards the other guys' bedrooms. "Well, c'mon!" He called out. Ryan smiled, following Clark into Trace's room. Trace was sat on the window edge, his feet hanging out onto the balcony as he read a book. "Hey, guys, what's up?" He said, turning and stepping into his room. "Ryan thinks we can fly!" Said Clark, putting his hands up to his face. "What did you do? How did you do it?" He asked Ryan. He explained to the bus what he did, attempting it again. He stood up on Trace's bed, placing on foot forward in the air. He closed his eyes, pressing his eyebrows together as he concentrated. He moved his foot off the bed, smiling as he stood in the air. Trace and Clark gawked as they watched him move forward, both stunned with Ryan.

"Hey, have you seen my- WOAH!" Yelled Zach as he entered the room, almost causing Ryan to fall. "Dude! How are you doing that?!" Ryan grinned attempting to go a little higher. He willed himself upward, but it was a little to much. He flew up, smacking into the ceiling. He yelled as he fell, trying to hold his balance. He floated a few inches off the ground before landing. He rubbed his head where he had hit himself, grinning at his brothers. "So then. We can fly." He laughed, motioning towards them. "Well, go on then. Give it a try!" Zach, being as cocky as he was, climbed onto the bed and jumped straight off, of course falling. The boys practiced their new ability, later moving it outside. By the end of the day, Clark had nearly mastered the ability of flying, while trace and Ryan weren't too far behind. Zach was still struggling, but he was getting better.

Later on in the evening, the boys were sitting in the living room, discussing about the upcoming school year when they heard the door unlock. Clark turned, raising an eyebrow as their father stepped inside. There was an awkward silence as their father sighed, giving his sons a cold look.

"Dad, you're home a li-" Clark said.

"-What did you do to your hair?" His father interrupted sternly.

Clark stammered, having forgotten that his father didn't know.

"I, erm, dyed it. Uh, sorry, Dad."

"How many times do I have to tell you boys not to STUTTER?" He yelled, slamming his briefcase onto the table. Zach glared at Scott with a dark expression. He hated him so much. "Zach, you also dyed your hair?" He asked lowly, rubbing his forehead. "You look like a bunch of freaks." Zach stood up, his nostrils flared in anger. "No. I did not dye my hair. It CHANGED on its OWN!" He snapped. This was the first time Zach had ever talked back to Scott, but he just couldn't take it anymore. "You're such a JERK. Why do you even CARE what I do?" Scott walked over to Zach, shoving him back onto the sofa roughly.

"Don't you talk to me that way. I'm your father and you've got to respect me." He said, finger pointed at Zach.

"You're my father? You're my FATHER? Well then, why don't you start ACTING like it?" Zach said, pushing his father back as he stood up. His eyes were bright with anger, staring his father down. Without thinking about it, Zach flicked his wrists, lighting them up in flames, gritting his teeth, his eyes piercing into his father.