P.O.W.E.R.S.

The Grouch Bank

I sighed as I sank into the uncomfortable bus seat, regretting for the umpteenth time my decision to forgo a car in the name of saving money. Not that I had any money to spend on a car. My meager savings earned from summers spent mowing lawns, tending gardens, and doing whatever chores people would pay me for would barely cover my living expenses through college. Even then, they only cover my living expenses due to the meticulous budget I spent weeks working on, healthy dietary habits be damned.

I let my gaze linger on the street signs passing outside the fingerprint coated window. Geez, I really hate Mondays. Every time it's an hour and a half of crack-pot philosophy, followed by fending off Jenny's mothering, and to top it all off I get to go home and put up with our weekly family dinner with dear old Grandpa, king of the exact kind of heroic nonsense I'm trying to avoid.

Now, don't get me wrong, I loved my family. My mother was a bit overinvolved, but she never hesitates to share a kind word and always carried around a warm, soothing presence. My father was always ready to share either a light hearted if groan worthy 'dad pun' or sprout off sage advice at just the right moment. My sister was full of herself, but her heart was in a good place. Even on the extended family side, I loved my Aunt Betsy's sense of humor and my Uncle Gordon's tales of childhood mischief. The one and only exception was my paternal grandfather. To say we didn't get along would be an understatement.

There's Baskette Road. Time to go. I lazily grabbed the cord to signal my stop before getting up to leave.

"Dude, do you see this? She's totally kicking that dudes butt!" I glanced over at the excited teenagers talking loudly about something on their phone before lurching as the bus came to a stop. Oops.

I shook off the temporary distraction and began walking towards home, enjoying the chill air and the last few brightly colored leaves clinging to life before the cold breath of winter deprived them of existence. I always enjoyed fall and the way that the world celebrated summer with one last explosion of color before descending into the monotone haunting serenity of ice and snow. Like summer and fall, all good things must come to an end, and in a short period of time I was outside the door to my house. I still had a good hour or so before my grandfather showed up, but every Monday walking through this door felt like it signaled the beginning of the end, as if helping my mother prep dinner heralded his presence into the house before his limp allowed him to catch up.

"-ome to Morningville's new super hero! And may I just say, that girl was on fire during that dramatic debut fight! Going now to-"

I glanced at the T.V. as I braved the first few steps into my home, seeing a news reporter with a cheesy picture of a superhero decked in patriotism on the screen. "Are you still watching this hero junk? I swear news is getting cheesier and more fake drama filled than mom's soap operas these days."

My sister turned and pulled a face at me. "It's called inspiring hope. You might want to try it sometime, instead of just hiding behind a desk all day!"

I smirked back at her. "Yes, because terrible puns and bad dialogue are life's greatest inspiration."

"We can't all be motivated by money."

"Really? I thought it was the American way. Or are you saying we'd still have as many heroes as we do if the organization didn't pay them?"

"Will! Your home! Would you mind giving me some help in the kitchen?" my mother cut in from the doorway into the kitchen, poorly disguising the fact that she was trying to break up our familiar argument. Honestly, it had become more habitual banter at this point then anything resembling an actual argument. However, my mom was one of those types that wanted everyone to always get along and agree, and thus made a habit of interrupting our sibling sparing sessions, regardless of the lack of real tension.