The mushy, green mess of my split pea soup swept across the lunch table, splattering haphazardly across my face and glasses. I landed with a pained grunt once I landed, colliding with the dirty cafeteria floor in a splash of roast beef and miscellaneous foodstuffs. Even through the throbbing pain of my face against my lunch I could hear them- all of them, laughing and pointing. Behind the green of split pea soup my face burned bright red, embarrassed and absolutely furious.
“Oh, sorry. Didn’t see ya there, Derkis.” Chet Baker snickered, completely untouched by the barrage of food from just moments ago. My eyes trailed down to his outstretched sneaker, which stuck out from the bench and into the aisle where I’d been walking. The cronies surrounding him at the table didn’t even bother to hide their laughter, yakking it up with raucous yelps of howling mirth.
A glowing field of blue around Chet’s figure flickered for a moment before dissipating, leaving behind nothing but his stupid grin.
Of course the most popular kid in school was a superhero. And of course he got the most glamorous and versatile power in the entire district, a forcefield bubble he could activate any time he wanted.
I spit out a glob of soup and stood up slowly, careful not to slip and fall to the ground once more.
Chet was one of the illustrious Ultras, human beings with- for lack of a better term- superpowers. They ranged from incredible abilities like creating firestorms in the atmosphere above to something mundane like an extra good sense of taste. He was a second-generation Ultra, as well, meaning his power was that much stronger.
At least he had cancer.
Well, that was an evil thought. I shook that remarkably dark idea out of my head and ignored the ongoing laughter, stumbling across the cafeteria. Maybe I’d hide in a bathroom stall until fourth period.
Yeah, even with his superpowers, Chet couldn’t change the fact that he had some pretty serious cancer. Even someone low as me on the highschool food chain knew about it. Despite this setback it didn’t seem like he cared in the least- actually, he was bent on using it for personal gain, pulling the cancer card every time there was even a thought of punishment. After all, who wants to be the jerk giving detention to the kid with a terminal illness? Even if he did just ‘accidentally’ roll over my hands with a skateboard in the parking lot during study period.
“Hey, Derkis!” Chet called, before a wet, sharp slap rang across my back. “You dropped this!” I jumped with surprise, nearly tumbling down again. Still, I managed to catch myself with an outstretched hand, but swore at the jarring feeling of my elbow locking into place so suddenly.
I glanced down at what the jerk threw at me, and almost laughed. The newest Metro-Man issue, which must have fell out of my bag when I got tripped. I looked for a while at the imposing figure of my favorite comic book superhero, admiring his inspiring, musclebound figure, and thought about how kind-hearted and courageous he was. Then I turned my gaze to Chet.
For every year of my highschool life, he was the one who made it a daily suffering. He was the one who stole my clothes from the locker room during P.E class and hung my underwear on the flag. He was the one who told Eiko Kimura I had a crush on her in the ninth grade and made her laugh along. He was the one who made it a social death sentence to be friends with me.
He wasn’t a superhero. He wasn’t a sob story. He was just some asshole who need his face punched in.
I dived from across the cafeteria in the blink of an eye, barely registering the speed in my mind. All I could see was his smug expression turn to one of fear and surprise as I raised my fist and brought it down on his chin. The flickering of his forcefield cracked against my fist, but I didn’t care. I wailed on the shield with all my strength until it snapped in two, dissipating into the air uselessly.
He stared at me, eyes wide.
“I’m gonna fuck you up,” I breathed.
I managed to get a multitude of lightning fast blows on his stupid face before getting pulled away by teachers, holding me tightly and dragging me away from Chet’s crumpled form.
“He’s an Ultra!” Some girl yelled, amidst the feverish yelling of every student in the room. I grinned, the most sincere smile I’d had in months. Damn right he was an Ultra, and I just kicked his ass.
“Look at his arms!”
That one lost me. I narrowed my eyebrows and confusedly glanced at my wrists, at once realizing that glowing, white tendrils of light slowly snaked their way up to my chest. The teachers let go and backed away, fear in their eyes, like I was a bomb about to go off.
One of the kids who had run to Chet’s side squealed with fright, turning all eyes to the boy lying fetal-position on the ground.I watched with abject horror as, with sickening crunches and pops, Chet’s face turned from a bruised mess and into a perfectly fine- if a little tender looking- uninjured mug.
My beatdown healed him. Healed him! The fact that I was an Ultra barely crossed my mind. I looked back down at my arms and grit my teeth, lamenting my rotten luck.
You have got to be kidding me.