The Unconventional Hero

14) Eyes of the Unbeliever

Chapter Fourteen: Eyes of the Unbeliever

"What's got your underwear in a twist?" Carmen asked me, as she skidded to a stop.

Maybe I didn't mention this before, but Carmen loved to skateboard. Which meant half of our hangout sessions were at the skate park near the local swimming pool.

"Black Shadow's ignoring me," I muttered. I mean, what's up with that? First he goes and stalks me, asking to be friends, but now he's ignoring me?

Alexa, play Fake Friends by Sigrid.

"When was the last time you two even talked?" Carmen sat down beside me, holding her skateboard in her lap.

Two weeks? Three weeks? Eh, better to just give Shadow the benefit of the doubt.

"At least two weeks," I said, picking at the gravel on the ground. The last time he popped in to say hi, he stayed for less than half an hour and was very distracted. He had also left very abruptly. Can a guy get some manners?

Carmen visibly winced at my admittance. "Well, I mean he is a superhero, he's got lots to do. Besides, you did say he was pretty young. He probably has school too."

I groaned, hating the fact that Carmen made perfect sense. "I make time to hang out with my friends! Can't he?"

Carmen just rolled her eyes at my whining before getting up to go back to skating on her board.

"Thanks for your help!" I yelled at her, pouting.

"No problem," she said back, already skating away.

The sun was already starting to descend, too, when my phone rang. I picked it up, frowning.

I mean, I already knew who the text was from, and what it was about. This was, like, my fifth visit to Dr. Menegle.

Each and every last one of them were as creepy as the last, if not more. And in between quite a few of them, my dad had gotten called in by Dr. Manilow. Whoever it was, I could only assume was one of my dad's good friend, or just a shady co-worker who was quite dependant. I truly hoped it was the former.

Also, thankfully, my dad's creep level hadn't risen, but it hadn't lowered either. I still felt vaguely uncomfortable being with him in long periods of time. Also, my mom had been coming home more often too—except she was just as distant as ever. Sure, she'd give dad and me forehead kisses and cuddle with us, but we were never that close. I don't think I've had a real solid mother nor father figure in this household—and boy was my dad really crushing any hope of that with his creepy expiramenting.

The text, in bright green read: "Hey bud, are you making your way home now? You have an appointment in thirty minutes, remember? Don't wanna be late."

No, I really did, dad. I wish I could be late—by a few hundred years, give or take, but he didn't need to know that.

I sent him a quick response before getting up and stretching. I called out to Carmen, who had noticed my movements and had started skating towards me.

"Got another appointment with Dr. Creepy?" she asked, lightly punching my shoulder. "I didn't really take you for someone with anger issues or the like—but I guess it's reasonable for you needing a therapist. Looking at you is traumitizing already—imagine being you?"

I sighed. Perhaps there were draw backs to telling my best friend everythimg. "That means you have to be equally traumitizing to be able to deal with me. And Dr. Menegle isn't a therapist, remember? He's the creepy scientist that wants to use me as a lab rat!"