CHAPTER 1
Most superhero stories start with a meteor shower or a nasty insect bite, but mine actually starts with a kiss. Whether it was a kiss of life or a kiss of death I still haven’t decided, but it was, surprisingly, a really good kiss. Not that I’d ever tell him that.
The kiss didn’t actually give me my powers. Those came earlier, in a freak accident involving toxic waste and something like 40,000 volts of electricity. But it was that kiss that forced me out of hiding and changed my life, eventually making me who I am today, and blah, blah, blah… You know the drill.
Zayn Malik actually started it, three weeks before our senior homecoming, when he got in an argument with Lauren Jauregui over who to ask to the dance. Zayn and Lauren were basically the two most popular people in school, and Celine Polenghi held that title by a landslide among the female population.
"I think I’m gonna take Celine to homecoming," Zayn said casually one day over his cold chicken patty on a bun and coleslaw.
"Dude, you took her to junior prom," Lauren immediately protested.
"Yeah, so?"
"So it’s my turn. I’m taking her to homecoming."
"Over my dead body. She’s the hottest girl in school. As captain of the football team it’s my right to have first pick."
"Says who?" Lauren laughed. "I’m the quarterback. Everyone knows I’m the real star. Besides, I’m better looking than you. I bet if we asked her at the same time, she’d pick me."
"Would not."
"Would too."
"So would not."
I’m not sure exactly how long they fought about that, but it was long enough for me to want to rip my hair out.
Superhearing can come in handy every now and then, but most of the time it royally sucks.
Especially when you’re stuck in a crowded school cafeteria, surrounded by a bunch of spoiled suburban teenagers, most of whom are having conversations every bit as ridiculous as the one Lauren and Zayn were engrossed in. I try to drown out the noise, and it works to an extent, but the annoying chatter is the reason I always sit in the far corner, all by myself. Well, it’s one of the reasons.
I’d managed to block most of the nonsense from my mind by focusing on the sound of my own chewing, but I’m kind of like one of those government computer programs that you see in spy movies, where they pick up key words and then home in on the conversation. Translation: I’m sensitive to my own name, and when it escaped Lauren Jauregui’s mouth, I was immediately paying close attention.
"Technically," she said, "Camila Cabello is hotter than Celine. If you want to take the hottest girl in school, then you have to take her."
Zayn burst into obnoxious laughter. "Yeah, she’s hot all right, for an ice queen. Celine is the hottest normal girl in school. Camila would never go to the dance with anyone."
"Not even the great Zayn Malik?" Lauren laughed. "You always say you could get any girl in this school."
"Camila doesn’t count. The chick’s a total loner."
"Maybe she’s just misunderstood," Lauren teased.
"Maybe she’s just a cold-hearted freak."
I smirked, quite happy with Zayn’s opinion of me. When I first arrived here at Rocklin High, Zayn Malik hit on me before I got to the front steps. He and his buddies were all hanging out at the back of his truck like they were having some sort of tailgate party before school. I knew exactly what was coming when he straightened his letter jacket and smiled at me with that classic smug smile that every major womanizer has perfected. Maybe laughing in his face in front of the entire varsity football team was a bit harsh, but it did the trick. He hasn’t bothered me since. None of them has.
