Blog of a Teenage Superhero

Chapter Nine: Council Kids

"Don't get kidnapped!" Kai shouts, staring wide-eyed at the mayor's residence. Finn whistles from the back seat, beanie twisted in a sweaty knot around his fingers.

"Wow," I breathe. I've never seen such a beautiful house. Three stories of modern architecture with a Victorian slant. Vaulted roofs, a nine-foot arch over the door, and a coat of blue paint that glistens in the setting sun. The lawn is neatly trimmed, candles gilding the windows gold, though candles are usually a Christmas thing and Christmas is months and months away. "Well," I say, "I'll try. Not to get kidnapped, I mean."

Finn snorts and waves me off. "Have fun."

I kick out the door, bracing my aching ribs which have swollen and grown lumpy. The car sputters and backs out, and then I'm standing alone in front of the mayor's too-long driveway. I draw up a shaky breath and stumble up onto the front porch. 

My ankle is clicking and swelling. Every step brings a hissed 'd'oh,' but if Red's team can take buildings being swung at them, then I can take a few punches. I puff up my chest, pull down the hem of my hoodie, and knock on the door of my shared family enemy.

It swings open almost instantly. Max smiles at me and for a second I'm caught breathless. I take photos. I admire beauty. This boy is beauty and smooth with the gents I am not.

"Hey," he says. The sleeves of his plaid shirt are rolled up to his elbows. His honey-brown hair is combed back and slicked down. His skin is so damp his clothes cling to him. "Come on in." His eyes are a brown so deep you'd think you could drown in them. 

"Uh, hi." I wipe my shoes on the flowery welcome mat and step inside. Max's home is nothing like mine. No fading pink wallpaper and chipping honeysuckle beige trim. No bath mat foyer. No library of yellow-paged books or the phantom reek of long burned candles. This house is fresh. Perky, even. Bright blue paint on the narrow hall walls, clean white trim, portraits following the swirl of spiral stairs that ascend up, up, up, into the lavish mansion. The home feels alive somehow. Whether it be from those smiling pictures of a dimply Max posing with his loser father, or whether it be from the light arching into the glowing room from the wall of windows upstairs, I can't help a twitch of a smile.

The smell of baking cookies is unmistakable. Max races up the spiral staircase and pauses half-way, leaning an elbow on the banister. "What's wrong?" he asks. "You coming?" A blush rises in my cheeks when I realize I've been staring at a framed portrait of him with his dad.

"Yeah, yeah." I hug my arms around my chest and wince when new pain flares up in my side. "Coming!" I unlace my shoes and kick them by the door. The soft parts in my ankle and leg buzz with the usual pain, the whole half of my body crippled and unsteady. I force back a whimper with an awkward laugh. "S-So what do you want to do?"

He clears the staircase and skids onto the second floor in his socks. I follow. The house is so open, you can peer down at the foyer through the rails. The appliances are all steel, the cabinets all shiny red cherry wood, the counters all granite. They glitter in the late sunlight that pours through the open windows. Three kids I vaguely remember from the speech-giving-affair lounge on the cushy leather sectional, holding Cokes, fiddling on their phones. Chip and Percy take up the love seat.

"They've been shunned," Max whispers in my ear, up on his tiptoes once more. I can sense the smile behind his voice. Percy leans her head against Chip's shoulder. She groans a 'hello,' turns over, and buries her face in the blonde boy's shirt. "They didn't make the council."

"So what are they doing here?" I don't bother to lower my voice. The council kids lift their heads from their Coke-chugging and phone-tapping and wave their 'hi's. I wave mine back, and make myself comfortable in Max's beautiful kitchen, opening cabinets and drawers, reading labels, locating the coffee maker.