reader, but somehow, it was very obvious to me that he was telling the truth. And yet I couldn’t help but ask:
“What’s so special about him?”
“He always believed in me,” said Whisp. “He was adopted way before me, but even then, he always visited me. He believed in me when no one else did.”
I rolled my eyes. Okay, so Flex was a nice guy. Big deal. That still didn’t make him a good Superhero.
“His power is being stretchy,” I grumbled. “He’s not even in the Heroes Guild anymore. Some hero.”
“Being in the Guild doesn’t make you a hero!” Whisp snapped. “Being a hero doesn’t even have anything to do with superpowers. Supervillains have some of the greatest powers, don’t they? Does that make them heroes? What the heck do you think a real hero is, Marrow?”
I was speechless. I’d never seen Whisp so riled up about anything before. Not like this.
“What it really comes down to is what you do with whatever power you have,” he said, not bothering to wait for a response. “Sometimes, all a hero needs is someone to believe in him.”
Whisp stood there, staring at me for several long seconds. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out his inhaler, and took a big huff of it. Quietly pocketing it, he marched out of the bathroom.
CHAPTER 6
If I had to rank the things I hated most in the world, they would go in the following order:
1. A certain psychotic parental figure who I refuse to acknowledge by his technical title. We’ll refer to him as Scumbag Number One.
2. A certain no-good cheating classmate who I refuse to acknowledge by his real name. We’ll refer to him as Scumbag Number Two.
3. Packing.
Yep . . . packing.
And then the honorable mention would probably be Brussels sprouts. Now if you’ve ever had the misfortune of trying Brussels sprouts, you should have a pretty good idea of how much I hated packing. If I had to put my level of hatred into words, I would describe it as complete and utter loathing from the darkest depths of my soul.
Pulling out entire dresser drawers, I dumped the contents into my suitcase like most people would throw garbage into a trash can. I then placed my luggage at the foot of my desk and simply pushed everything off and let it fall inside. In all of five minutes, I had a mountain of unfolded clothes, textbooks, and electronics towering inside my suitcase and no idea how to close it.
In a desperate attempt against all the laws of physics, I struggled to push my ridiculous mound of belongings down. I finally squashed the pile down to about half the size, but doing so required both of my hands. If I lifted even one, my crap started bulging back up. With both hands preoccupied, I eyed the suitcase lid with growing frustration.
For the first time in my life, I found myself wishing I had Nero’s stupid telekinesis.
Biting my lip, I stuck my leg out, trying to use my foot to pop the lid over the top. Unfortunately, the pile was still too high, and I looked like a moron trying to kick it down repeatedly, only to have it bounce back up.
Change of plans.
Bending at an awkward angle, I sat down on my hands. With my bodyweight in place, I pulled my hands free. I craned my neck backwards, glancing at the suitcase lid.
Okay . . . now what? Hadn’t exactly thought that one through.
“Need some help?”
I glanced up from my luggage to find Sapphire standing in the doorway of my dorm. Her slender arms were folded, and she tilted her head sideways, allowing her rich blue hair to drape at a slight angle. An amused smirk crept across her face.
I glanced from her to the overly-stuffed suitcase beneath me. “You wouldn’t happen to have a garbage compactor handy, would you?”
“Hmm . . .” Sapphire shook her head with a smile. “Sorry. Fresh out.” Without even waiting for my consent, she walked right into my dorm and pulled the suitcase lid up. “Move your butt, fatty.”
I chuckled and followed along, shoving my hands under my butt and
“What’s so special about him?”
“He always believed in me,” said Whisp. “He was adopted way before me, but even then, he always visited me. He believed in me when no one else did.”
I rolled my eyes. Okay, so Flex was a nice guy. Big deal. That still didn’t make him a good Superhero.
“His power is being stretchy,” I grumbled. “He’s not even in the Heroes Guild anymore. Some hero.”
“Being in the Guild doesn’t make you a hero!” Whisp snapped. “Being a hero doesn’t even have anything to do with superpowers. Supervillains have some of the greatest powers, don’t they? Does that make them heroes? What the heck do you think a real hero is, Marrow?”
I was speechless. I’d never seen Whisp so riled up about anything before. Not like this.
“What it really comes down to is what you do with whatever power you have,” he said, not bothering to wait for a response. “Sometimes, all a hero needs is someone to believe in him.”
Whisp stood there, staring at me for several long seconds. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out his inhaler, and took a big huff of it. Quietly pocketing it, he marched out of the bathroom.
CHAPTER 6
If I had to rank the things I hated most in the world, they would go in the following order:
1. A certain psychotic parental figure who I refuse to acknowledge by his technical title. We’ll refer to him as Scumbag Number One.
2. A certain no-good cheating classmate who I refuse to acknowledge by his real name. We’ll refer to him as Scumbag Number Two.
3. Packing.
Yep . . . packing.
And then the honorable mention would probably be Brussels sprouts. Now if you’ve ever had the misfortune of trying Brussels sprouts, you should have a pretty good idea of how much I hated packing. If I had to put my level of hatred into words, I would describe it as complete and utter loathing from the darkest depths of my soul.
Pulling out entire dresser drawers, I dumped the contents into my suitcase like most people would throw garbage into a trash can. I then placed my luggage at the foot of my desk and simply pushed everything off and let it fall inside. In all of five minutes, I had a mountain of unfolded clothes, textbooks, and electronics towering inside my suitcase and no idea how to close it.
In a desperate attempt against all the laws of physics, I struggled to push my ridiculous mound of belongings down. I finally squashed the pile down to about half the size, but doing so required both of my hands. If I lifted even one, my crap started bulging back up. With both hands preoccupied, I eyed the suitcase lid with growing frustration.
For the first time in my life, I found myself wishing I had Nero’s stupid telekinesis.
Biting my lip, I stuck my leg out, trying to use my foot to pop the lid over the top. Unfortunately, the pile was still too high, and I looked like a moron trying to kick it down repeatedly, only to have it bounce back up.
Change of plans.
Bending at an awkward angle, I sat down on my hands. With my bodyweight in place, I pulled my hands free. I craned my neck backwards, glancing at the suitcase lid.
Okay . . . now what? Hadn’t exactly thought that one through.
“Need some help?”
I glanced up from my luggage to find Sapphire standing in the doorway of my dorm. Her slender arms were folded, and she tilted her head sideways, allowing her rich blue hair to drape at a slight angle. An amused smirk crept across her face.
I glanced from her to the overly-stuffed suitcase beneath me. “You wouldn’t happen to have a garbage compactor handy, would you?”
“Hmm . . .” Sapphire shook her head with a smile. “Sorry. Fresh out.” Without even waiting for my consent, she walked right into my dorm and pulled the suitcase lid up. “Move your butt, fatty.”
I chuckled and followed along, shoving my hands under my butt and
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