Not Your Average Hero

•14• anger issues

After long hours of training, countless bruises and accidental burn marks in various places, it's safe to say I'm never going to get the hang of being a superhero. Spectral. It's hard believe I agreed on something that might not even exist at the rate I'm learning.

Sterling is beginning to pick on me almost as much as he does Golden Sparkler, which is a lot to say the least. He's also become a frequent visitor at the Calloway residence. I'm certain Mom thinks of him as some sort of guardian angel, a charming protector, oblivious to the disgusting and inappropriate things he does when she's not around. Just last night, I woke up shivering in the darkness, only to find him in my bed, hogging the blankets to the point where the only thing keeping me warm was my pajamas. To make matters worse, he wore nothing but his tighty whities because he forgot his pajamas at home, and refuses to wear anything longer than skin-tight boxers to bed, disliking whenever the loose fabric of pajama pants cling to his skin. He then stated, or threatened, I'm not sure, that underwear is better than his usual bedtime attire, au naturel, and that I should be grateful for his protection every night from villains that have yet to knock on my front door.

I immediately kicked Sterling out and, much to his dismay, requested to have Gold watch over me instead.

"Are you even listening?" Graham nudged my shoulder, bringing me out of my thoughts; his expression wasn't bored or irritated per usual, instead, he had a playful gleam in his usually unwelcoming blue eyes.

"Sorry," I mumbled, still lost within my mind palace, "what were you saying?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to cut it first," he said, "you know, this thing in front of us?" he added when a look of confusion settled over my face, gesturing towards a belly-up frog on the metal tray.

"Oh, no, you can start." I replied, grimacing a little. Our science teacher decided to get into the biology unit, choosing to dissect frogs first out of everything else.

"What's got your head in the clouds?" He chuckled, nudging my shoulder again. It was only now, when a woodsy, cypress aroma filled my nose, that I realized how close we were, our foreheads almost touching. Startled by the lacking distance between us, I jumped away, in doing so, hitting the edge of my elbow on the corner of the desk.

I cleared my throat, "Just thinking." I tried to smile casually, but Grahams furrowed eyebrows indicated I looked closer to constipated than anything else.

"Do you think a lot?" He asked, chuckling lightly, I felt as though he was laughing with me, not at me, but I could be wrong.

"Yeah," I winced, rubbing away the pain that pricked my arm.

"What are you thinking about?" He pushed.

My thoughts drifted away once more, mentally preparing myself for when Sterling picks me up after school to meet up at the field."Stuff." I answered, not wanting to tell him I was trying to think of the best way to kick Golden Sparklers' ass.

***

"Actually try this time." Sterling told me while we waited for Gold, "use the strength I know you have." He said, referring to last night.

"You freaked me out, I thought you were some psychotic killer or something." I raised my hands in defense.

"A psychotic killer who was sleeping peacefully in bed, dreaming wonderful dreams, until you kicked with force and sent him flying?" Sterling scoffed, "that makes sense."