Special Boy // phan

-2-

My two friends leaned forward, exaggerating their excitement with wide eyes and open mouths.

"Please tell us more, Dan, we're on the edge of our seats," Chris mocked, then immediately sat back in his seat, smirking at me with arms crossed.

"He also owns Lester's Angels." Both their faces morphed into actual shocked expressions, and I chuckled.

Everyone knew about Lester's angels. A large group of only the best self-deemed supers, hand picked by Lester himself, working tirelessly to get jobs and homes for people who got the short end of the power stick. They helped out everyone who needed it, not expecting payment. It was actually kind of sweet, when you take out the slightly demeaning quality it had. Everyone either has or has known someone who has had a run in with an Angel. Often times they have better-than-usual powers, not really Bigs, but really useful. My mum met one once, a big man who could make her feel warm in the freezing night, walking her home when she was too lost and too drunk to find it herself.

Upon researching the new transfer, I discovered that he was the mysterious Lester behind the whole cooperation, coming from a poor background, knowing there were a lot of people who needed help. He wasn't expecting it to blow up the way it did, according to one interview he gave his local newspaper. But one day an anonymous donor gave millions of credits to him with a message that said "keep up the good work". Lester never took a penny for himself, which is why he wants to finish his education. "I just love learning."

I had yet to find a picture of him without the famous mask he wore when "supering"; a purple masquerade mask that fit around his striking blue eyes. But I would know him if I saw him, the general shape of his face, his build, his black hair.

"Lester's Angels are jokes," PJ groaned, packing away the book he had pulled out at the beginning of lunch when he checked his watch, realising it was almost over. "Just a bunch of Bigs who think they're better than they actually are because they do community service." Everyone was always on PJ's ass about community service, explaining how him and all other food-related powers could cure world hunger.

But he can't, not really; if PJ makes any more than three or four pieces, he gets exhausted, which is his weakness. If Chris is around someone who sneezes a lot, like someone with a cold, he gets sick himself. Everyone has something like that, their weakness. Sharing your weakness with someone is like saying you love and trust them; even I, with my extensive knowledge and essential obsession with powers, didn't know most of the school's weaknesses. Sometimes people accidentally let it slip, but it's common courtesy to "forget" it. I understand; weaknesses are really personal. Especially when you're a Big, because then your weakness would be just as huge. Their weaknesses are different every time the power recurs, as most Bigs do. The last man who had flight couldn't fly over water; land only. But I had no idea what this Phil guy's was.

Nobody really understand the mechanics about why we have powers or why they work like they do. There are lots of theories, but the only thing we knew for certain was that everyone, for as far back as documented history can tell us, has had them. Kings were chosen by their power, deities, believed to bring messages from the gods. Nowadays, we tried not to discriminate against power types.

But that didn't stop people avoiding the really dumb powers, like the ability to know about someone's sneeze before they do, or the ability to eat cheese pizza inhumanly fast. No one treated us unfairly. But it was obvious where the cliques were.

The introduction of the new Big to this environment would throw everything off. Everyone would want to be his friend. Especially when they figured out he was an Angel.

No, not just an angel. The Angel. Famous superhero. At least, famous in my circles. Apparently, there were people who didn't know who he was at all.

"Time to go," Chris explained, glancing at his phone's display. I nodded and stood, folding the paper plate that PJ had given me in half and tossing it in a bin.

"See you in PS," I shouted after them, each of us heading our own direction.

I was lost in my mind. I had just figured out how to get along in this crazy place, sure, at the bottom of the pyramid, but better than in the spotlight, the plain boy, people gawking, laughing, pointing, like some twisted circus. What's going to happen when this Lester kid shows up?

Is it even possible for me to shift lower on the powers food chain?