James Knight: Teenage Superhuman - Book One

Thirteen

"Hey, James," Mia called amidst the bustling crowd. I halted and turned to face her. Smiling, I responded, "What's up, Mia?"

She beamed, her blue eyes sparkling, and said, "I heard about a carnival on the other side of town from my uncle. I was hoping you'd like to go with me."

Excitement surged through me, and I pulled her aside, finding a spot by a locker away from the foot traffic. Mark's friends glanced at us as they hurried to their lockers to grab their books. "Are you kidding? I'd love to go!" I exclaimed, grinning.

Mia playfully curtsied, her pink skirt swinging. "Yay!"

Suddenly, I realized what I had said and frowned at myself for unconsciously perpetuating gender stereotypes. "Wait, isn't it traditionally the guy's role to ask the girl out?" I asked, disappointed in my unintentional bias.

"Let's think of it as a role reversal," she replied, her expression turning serious. Then she took my hand, and I held it tightly.

"What time?" I asked.

"How about six-thirty?" she suggested, her nails lightly digging into my palm.

"Then it's a date," I said, smirking.

"Great! You're going to pick me up. Please don't be late," she instructed.

"Sure," I agreed, laughing. It would be my first date. We walked down the hallway together, and I accompanied Mia to our next class, observing Mark lose it as we entered.

"What the heck, Mia?" Mark shouted. She withdrew her hand from mine and sat in the empty seat beside me. I humbly grinned at Mark, feeling a small victory. He and his friends kept their distance from me that Friday, mostly sitting on the opposite side of the room.

Our teacher, Ms. Rooke, barely taught us anything in class. As a result, the school let her go and replaced her with a new substitute named Mr. Alexander Kinley, a rookie with a distinct Australian-American accent like the new kids. I assumed there was no connection between Noah and Max.

I found myself doodling again, scratching and scribbling lines and shapes on paper. While I had some drawing skills, I didn't consider pursuing it as a career.

"James Knight," Mr. Kinley called out, pointing to the board. His eyes followed my hands, and I dropped my pen onto my paper.

"Read the poem on the board for me, mate," he instructed. I leaned back and looked up, then slumped back in my seat, collecting myself, and began reading the first and second sentences aloud.

"Flying, leaping, and jumping into action. This hero does more than gratify his reputation. We all wear masks, but the person beneath the hood, the overlooked underdog, goes above and beyond the ordinary tasks." It was a feeble attempt at poetry, but if he tried hinting that he knew who I was, I had to credit him for his effort.

As I scanned the class, I noticed everyone staring at me. The silence was deafening, and Mark broke it with a slow clap and a smirk. "Wow, Mr. Kinley, that was deep. You know those superheroes suck, right? " Mark said, glancing in my direction and then at Max. His comment seemed to fuel Mr. Kinley's anger, and he pounded his fists on his wooden desk.

"Superhumans are the future of the human race, Mr. Reignson. They can do much more than your father would ever dream of," Mr. Kinley retorted.

Mark continued to provoke him, saying, "Yeah, like what? What can they do that's so incredible? They're just destructive and a waste of time." Knowing Mark had a fair argument, he locked eyes with our new professor for at least five minutes before the bell rang. I winced in my seat, avoiding eye contact with either of them. Gathering my notebook and pen from my desk, I stuffed them into my bag and approached the door in a rush to be out of there quickly as a chill rushed down my spine.