Certified Superhero (Misfits #2)

6: as normal as it gets

Miguel spent too long at the Academy trying to teach me how to be a good person. I blamed him wherever he was for the guilt pooling in my stomach. I needed to show Diana that I was grateful for her forcing me to get help. I always needed friends who were willing to embarrass me for my own good.

But when I tried to practice the words on my walk from the metro station to the hotel room, nothing seemed to work. "I guess you're pretty cool for making me look weak in front of my superiors," and, "Thanks for noticing that I cracked a rib," just didn't feel like enough.

Words were easy when I used them to spin a lie or persuade someone to listen to me, but when it came to talking about my feelings? No siree. That wasn't going to happen. I mean, it took me almost dying to tell my life long friends I love them.

That's why I stopped at the grocery store on the way home. It was a shabby little corner market just outside of the metro station in Queen Plaza. Most of the tourists seemed to be avoiding it because it looked like it wasn't open. I didn't mind as long as they had ingredients for the one recipe I knew how to make. Grandma's macaroni and cheese soup was a hit and required very little cooking.

I figured a home cooked meal would be a decent substitute for a heartfelt thank you.

The inside of the store was as rundown as the outside. The vinyl tiles were peeling up at the edges and an ancient box TV was mounted to one of the walls. A grainy news broadcast played on a low volume. The store at least provided shelter from the wind outside. For once it wasn't raining in Nova City, but the wind was picking up in a late spring chill.

I nodded at the store clerk who sat behind the cash register. She had bleached hair and smelled like cigarette smoke, but her smile was kind. She didn't seem like a threat. I clocked the rest of the patrons. A thin man with unkempt hair. A woman with three little kids who were gazing at the candy aisle with lust. None of them had that desperate gleam in their eyes that I saw in druggies every night.

I exhaled slowly and told my body to relax. I was off duty. This was a quick grocery trip like the rest of the world made. Not a stakeout, just normal civilian errands.

While I weaved through the empty aisle, putting the cheapest items I could find in my basket, I listened to the TV play in the corner. The weather forecast called for more rain. Of course. Maybe I could talk Graham into moving the Conspiracy's headquarters to somewhere with reasonable weather. I missed Lincoln City's humid but temperate climate. Even Summersville's frigid winters had been better than this torrential downpour.

I was just judging the merits between different bags of frozen vegetables--peas and carrots or a mix with corn and green beans?--when the newscaster's voice froze me in place. "Two vigilantes have been declared wanted by the local police in the nation's capital after an incident at the Smithsonian. This comes just days after an Anti-Hero Legislation Bill was proposed to congress."

I peeked over an aisle to watch the broadcast while looking as uninterested in the broadcast as possible. A video was playing of the aftermath of a super powered fight at the Smithsonian. Display cases were shattered and a model rocket that used to be suspended from the ceiling had crashed into the ground. Black burn marks scarred the room. Sweet superheroes, that must have been why I needed to emergency evacuate the DC duo. They were worse idiots than I thought. Maybe my advice to Devon hadn't been serious enough.

"Those superheroes are out of control, huh?" The voice made me jump. To my left, the thin man with messy hair was standing next to me. He had a head on me and didn't have to strain to watch the TV. "They think they can get away with anything."

For a second I couldn't breathe. Whatever air I had inhaled was trapped in my lungs, strangling me from the inside. "Yeah, it's crazy." I tried to cover the strain in my words with a few fake coughs.