Wake 1.9

  2010, September 14: Brockton Bay, NH, USA

  We were having breakfast before I had to head to school, cold cereal and bananas, when Sierra decided to make my life difficult.

  "Mom~" she sang, "Bryce has a girlfriend." I could almost see mom's ears twitch with delight in the way only mothers and professional gossips could.

  "I do not," I tried to shut it down immediately.

  "He has a date to homecoming," Sierra grinned triumphantly. It was the smile of the cat that caught the canary.

  "It's hardly a date. Neither of us enjoy crowds but are being forced to go by our friends, so we decided to go, as friends." I peeled a banana nonchantly.

  "Oh, Bryce, I'm so proud of you!" mom squealed as she hugged me in a deathgrip. "Who's the lucky girl?"

  "Nothing lucky about his, mom. What part of we're being compelled to attend didn't you hear?"

  "Does your suit still fit you? Will you be wearing matching colors?" She ignored me completely and started to fuss with my hair, as though the dance was right now instead of two weeks ter.

  I swatted her hand away, thoroughly annoyed. I sent Sierra a gre that promised retribution as she savored my suffering like a gss of fine wine. "We don't care. We're just going to wear whatever's on hand."

  Sierra paused, her spoonful of frosted nuggets halfway to her mouth. "You're shitting me, little bro." She met my ambivalent gaze and sighed. "Of course you're serious. Bryce, my bafflingly brilliant yet socially crippled baby bro, she cares. I don't care what she told you. Trust me. She. Cares."

  I thought about Amy Dallon, the maker of titans. Most sexually frustrated lesbian in the world. Cataclysmic supernova of all the world's fucks wrapped up in the shape of an angsty teenage girl. The greatest healer alive and the hero I respected most…

  'What are the chances that Amy wants to be swept off her feet by me?' I considered.

  Then I promptly burst out ughing so hard I spat some of my cereal milk into Sierra's bowl.

  "Eww! Bryce! What the hell?" she shouted.

  "Ahahahahahaha…" I broke off wheezing. "Trust me. She doesn't care. She's probably pnning on ditching me within the first hour. And frankly? I'm pnning the same. Her ideal scenario is that I catch a cold or something so she can use the ck of a date as an excuse to not attend at all."

  "Bryce! Clean that up," mom chided, giving me the gre only a disappointed mother could. "And I don't care what you and that poor girl said to each other. You will go to that dance. You will be a proper gentleman. And you will do your best to give her the night of her life. Understood?"

  I sighed but couldn't help a grin. "What happened to 'lucky girl?' Now she's 'that poor girl?'" The withering glower mom sent me told me to stop pushing. There were just some fights that weren't worth fighting. "Yes, mother," I grumbled obediently.

  "Good," she nodded in satisfaction. "Now, do you have a suit to wear?"

  "I'll wear what I wore to dad's funeral," I said solemnly. Even a month ter, she didn't like being reminded of dad. "It's bck. It goes well with anything."

  "Dear, you need a good shirt and tie as well."

  "And no, bro, bck on bck is not appropriate for anything outside of a funeral, even if that shirt is pretty good. Find out what color her dress is," Sierra said, "trust us, she'll appreciate the effort even if she isn't too pumped about the dance."

  "Fine," I acquiesced. "I suppose it couldn't hurt to put in some effort."

  We ate our breakfast in silence for one blissful moment. Any hope I had for ending this line of discussion was however for naught. "So?"

  "So?" I arched a brow.

  "So who's the lucky girl?"

  "She's 'the lucky girl' again?" I said wryly. "Make up your minds."

  "Bryce," Sierra let out a longsuffering sigh.

  "Amy Dallon."

  "Have we met her before?" mom asked, curious. "The name sounds familiar."

  Sierra's expression of dawning realization was worth savoring. "Amy Dallon. Panacea, mom," she squeaked. "You have a date with Panacea? How?"

  I rolled my eyes. "Seriously, sis, you've got to get over your hero worship. And mom, Amy is a junior. I eat lunch with them. And yes, she's best known as Panacea."

  "Oh, oh dear… My boy's first date is with a hero."

  "I keep telling you two that it's not a date," I huffed. I picked up my now empty bowl and tossed the banal peel into the trash. "I'm one-hundred percent certain she's gay."

  "She is?" Sierra asked, always down for some cape gossip.

  "Yup. Gayer than Legend at a pride rally. Actually, I'm pretty sure we have the same taste in women, appearance-wise anyway, so I guess we can bond over how hot we find people. Seriously, she's getting dragged to homecoming by her sister and I happen to be the least objectionable guy she knows."

  "Seriously?"

  "Yes, and keep that bit of gossip to yourself. I don't think she meant for me to know that."

  "Huh, that's kinda neat. I have a friend…"

  'Oh god, she's not trying to set her up with Sabah, is she?' I rolled my eyes. "No. You will not try to py matchmaker, especially when you're not even supposed to know."

  "Wait, how do you know then?"

  "I have a really strong gay-dar," I lied and picked up my backpack before this interrogation could continue. "I'm going to school now."

  "Sure, have fun, dear," mom said. "Sierra, honey, can you drive Bryce over to Hillside and buy him a proper shirt and tie?"

  "I don't mind pying dress-up with Bryce, but can it wait until tomorrow? I promised a friend we'd meet up." my sister said.

  "Great. And find out what color Amy is wearing to the dance!" she hollered after me. I shot them a thumbs up as I shuffled out the door.

  X

  Tuesdays and Thursdays started out with an hour and a half of physical education, a combination of homeroom and first period folded into one. Arcadia had an alternating schedule with hour-long periods on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday and hour and a half long periods on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Coach Miller, an unreasonably fit bck man with a squat build and biceps bigger than my face, loomed over us with a wide grin.

  "Good morning, dies and gentlemen," he said with a booming voice and a cp. I was pretty sure the guy was former Army. He addressed everyone as "dy" or "gentleman," even in casual conversation and offered us kids a lot more respect than most teachers did. That made him popur with more than just the varsity teams, but there was a way he carried himself, a confidence that many of us wished we could emute, that screamed of formal training.

  His PE courses focused on a sport every month. He tended to start with common sports like basketball and soccer then transition to more unfamiliar sports like crosse or even archery as the year went on.

  "We will not be pying basketball today. We have state mandated fitness standards this morning." The field was filled with collective groans. "Yes, yes, we still need to do it so line up for the mile. Four ps around the track. Let's go, let's go!"

  He'd brought out the fully automated timer used by the track team.

  We kicked off with the crack of the starting gun and the sports team members easily pulled away. I was half a p in when a vaguely familiar figure started to keep pace with me.

  "Hey," said the boy with blue hair. He stood a good half foot taller than me, not that that was all that difficult with my five-two frame. Like the rest of his family, he was unreasonably good looking, with a smile that could have featured in an Oral-B commercial. "Bryce, right?"

  'Eric Pelham, Shielder, what does he want from me?' I wondered. "Yeah, Eric, right?"

  "Mmhm, just wanted to say hi."

  Eric was an odd figure. Without question, he was the most popur person in freshman year for obvious reasons. When he dyed his hair blue in middle school, half the "cool kids" followed within the week. When he picked up mixed martial arts from his dad, kids started to replicate karate katas at recess. He was Regina George from Mean Girls, except not an unrepentant bitch.

  "What's up?" I noticed how easy his breaths seem to come to him. "You don't seem to be struggling."

  "Yeah, trust me. You can't have Manpower as your dad and not exercise. Heard you were going to the dance with my cousin."

  'Ah, that expins the sudden interest.'

  Eric and I knew each other from elementary school, but only ever as passing acquaintances. I was mentally too old to mindlessly follow the trendsetter and Eric was a kid who had better, more entertaining things to occupy himself with than the quiet kid who didn't speak with anyone.

  "Have the rumors made their rounds already?" I asked. "Guess this is you giving me the third degree then."

  "Hah! Hardly. I'll leave that to Vicky."

  "So what's this then?"

  "Curiosity, I suppose. We've known each other since third grade but I don't think I've ever really talked to you."

  "Nothing personal," I said. At the time, the powerless me didn't want to get attached to a kid I knew was fated to die to Leviathan. "I don't talk with most kids my age."

  "We noticed," he said. "And by 'we,' I mean the whole school."

  "Oh?"

  "Come on, the quiet kid suddenly joins Vicky's court and gets a date with Amy?" He chuckled briefly and I had to admit, it was pretty unlikely. "You caught a lot of people's eyes. A lot of our year mates think you're aloof, like you think you're better than everyone."

  'Fucking high school drama.' I sighed. It wasn't an unexpected outcome. Not entirely wrong either: I really didn't give two fucks about my yearmates. "And what do you think? If I cared about what people thought of me, I'd spend time with them."

  He frowned. "I guess you are a bit aloof, though I don't think it's because you think you're better than other people. I don't know enough about you to say, but that's why I'm talking to you." His frown turned into an easy grin. "So, want to hang out sometime?"

  "You're an interesting guy. Maybe sometime ter. I have some things I gotta work on this week."

  "Fair enough. Excited for the dance?"

  "Hardly," I scoffed. "Don't believe the rumors. Amy and I aren't going out. We're going as friends because Vicky insisted on having her sister there."

  "Yeah, I figured it was something like that," he ughed lightly. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying Amy can't get a guy if she wanted, but she's never seemed interested before."

  "We're pnning on sticking around for as long as is polite then fucking off to the Boardwalk or something for ice cream."

  "Hah, I might join you then. I'm going with this girl named Grace. Grace Kanda? Know her?"

  I took a deep breath to keep pace and wracked my brain for the name. "Err… Kind of? I think I had seventh grade history with her. Isn't she the girl with a pet iguana named Lung? Pretty sure she brought it to school once."

  "You remember that?"

  "Of course I do. I'm a loner, not blind. She's got bigger balls than half us guys."

  "That's what I said!" Eric crowed. He leaned in as if to whisper. "Don't tell anyone, but she was the one who asked me out."

  "Doesn't surprise me, she seems like a real spitfire. Cute, though. Congrats."

  "Thanks, I'm really looking forward to it."

  We kept our pace to finish with a respectable seven minute mile. Coach Miller gave us the stink eye though.

  Eric, despite his fmboyant appearance, was really fit; he'd always been one of the most athletic kids our age. Between Crystal's gymnastics and his father's… Manpower… he had a lot of pressure on his shoulders. Coach Miller knew for a fact that he could push out a sub-five minute mile if he wanted.

  After promising to hang out sometime, we went our separate ways, me to Mrs. Currie's world issues css and Eric to freshman bio. But before that, I had a stop to make.

  X

  "Vicky, wait up." I stopped the blonde superheroine at her locker between first and second period.

  "Yeah? What's up, Bryce?" she asked curiously. I wasn't the type to socialize outside of lunch.

  "Can we talk? It's about Amy," I said. "Does she have a dress yet?"

  "Oh, that," she brightened immediately, always happy to chat about her sister. "Yeah, she's going to wear blue and white. It goes great with her hair, you know?"

  I smiled apologetically. "No, actually, I don't know. I'll take your word for it though."

  "Ugh, you two are perfect for each other," she griped.

  "I take it you picked out her dress?"

  "Yup, I'm wearing something simir with a lighter blue." She whipped out her phone. "Want to see?"

  "Not right now, but send me a picture of Amy's dress so I can find a tie that matches," I said.

  "Hah! So you do care about the dance!"

  "Not really, but if I'm going, I want her to have a good time, you know?"

  She smiled sweetly and a part of me melted. "You're a good guy, Bryce. Thanks."

  "No problem. Fair warning though, I'm going to try to get Amy to ditch the dance with me as soon as it becomes socially appropriate. Maybe go grab some ice cream. Dances aren't my scene."

  "I thought you loved music."

  "I do. I py and edit for fun, but loud, heavy dance music that's mostly just repetitive techno or pop don't do it for me." I gave her a friendly punch on the shoulder. I found it easier to ignore the subconscious fluctuations in her aura if I treated her the way Dean treated Carlos. "Anyway, a picture of the dress was all I wanted. Later, V."

  "Sure, I'll catch you at lunch."

  X

  PE and world issues were the only two csses I shared with my fellow freshmen, which meant I saw them only two days out of the week.

  Mrs. Currie was the opposite of Coach Miller. Where he was a young-ish man in his early thirties with muscles like he belonged in an Old Spice commercial, she was a skinny old woman in her fifties. Coach Miller looked like a tank, beefy and low to the ground. Mrs. Currie was a mousy five-two with a stooped back, the kind of woman who Wards helped across the street to pad their reps.

  She was nice for the most part, but had a condescending tone that made me feel like I was being talked down to. She also proudly decred herself a volunteer member of the Youth Guard's Brockton chapter, something about putting into practice the things she taught. I usually made sure to sit at the back and keep quiet.

  "We're going to be starting our year-long project," she said to the collective groaning of the css. "None of that. This css is called 'world issues' and it would be remiss of me if I did not give you the chance to follow an ongoing issue in the world."

  She passed out a stapled worksheet thick enough to fill my cssmates with dread. "You will select a topic of interest and submit it for my review. If you can't find a topic you like, I will assign one for you. You have until end of the week to select the topic. You will then be expected to write a three page report on how that topic has evolved every two weeks, starting from the first Thursday of October. You will turn in these status reports on your topic of choice over the course of the year. Additionally, you will have two major presentations in which you will cover your findings and talk about how you think your topic will affect the world at rge, one in early December and one in May. These are rge portions of your grade. Any questions, children?"

  "Mrs. Currie, can we choose anything?" a short redhead spoke up from the front of the css.

  "Raise your hand, Kyle," she chided. "And no, you may not simply choose any topic. That is why I am having you present your topic to me for approval. If you decide to follow Legend's love life, Myrddin's insistence that his parahuman power is magic, or some other nonsense, I will assign one for you. I want you kids to enjoy the project, but the topics of interest should be things with more substance than idle gossip."

  Another hand went up, this time from a dark-skinned girl with a distinct Jamaican accent. Brenda or Briana or something like that. "Yeah, can we just choose cape life in the city?"

  "No," she cut that line of questioning. "I want you to look outside of Brockton Bay for this. This css is called 'world issues' and I expect you to broaden your horizons. Yes, Hannah, dear?"

  "Can we work with someone else?" she asked hopefully. I could see half the css perk up at that, eyeing friends.

  Mrs. Currie considered it for a moment, then nodded. "If two or more people submit the same topic, and if the topic is significantly complex as to warrant a partner or two, I will consider it."

  "Yes!" Hannah high-fived a girl across from her.

  I scribbled the first topic that came to mind: Bad Canary's trial.

  With my metaknowledge added to ongoing news reports, the subject should be simple enough to report on. It would hopefully get some of these kids to question what they saw in the news. And best of all, being such a dense topic, it was unlikely that anyone else would want to cover it with me.

  X

  At lunch, I found Chelsea and Stephanie huddled over our table, whispering furiously to each other.

  "Just do it," I heard Chelsea whisper.

  Dennis and I looked at each other before the redhead shrugged and sat down. He made sure to cck his tray on the table louder than strictly necessary. "You know, dies, your whispering isn't as quiet as you think it is."

  "Well ignore us and eat your pizza," Stephanie said.

  "Bold of you to call this pizza. It's more…stale cardboard with red sauce and cheese."

  I couldn't help myself. "Stale, cheesy, with a bit of red on top, a retive of yours?"

  "Oww, why do you do this to me, Bryce? I thought we were friends?"

  "We are, this is how I show affection," I assured him with a comforting smile. I then turned to face the girls. "Well? What's up? You two have been whispering like you're trying to keep a secret since yesterday."

  "I'm going to tell him."

  "Chels, no!" Stephanie cried.

  "Oh come on, maybe a guy's opinion is what you need."

  Judging by the flighty look on Stephanie's face, I quickly decided I wanted no part of this. "On second thought, I don't need to hear it. Steph doesn't look happy with you, Chels."

  "Oh, fine. But I think you should do it," the blonde told her best friend. "You've got nothing to lose."

  "Is this about homecoming? I bet it's about homecoming," Vicky joined us. She made sure to sit with Dean on her right and Amy on her left, unsubtly pushing her sister next to me.

  "Yo," I greeted the trio.

  "Hey, Bryce, how's it going?" Dean said with his usual friendly smile.

  "Not bad, but getting a bit fed up with all the homecoming talk," I said honestly. "I get that it's a big thing, but it's all anyone talks about."

  "Well what do you want to talk about then?"

  "Any cape news tely?" I tried. "PHO's been blowing up about a new mercenary group in town."

  "That's what you're interested in?" Stephanie asked incredulously. "How about the new Ward? Shadow Stalker?"

  'Huh, I hadn't noticed. Guess Sophia got caught.' I took a bite of some hummus and carrots.

  "I don't know about her," I said cautiously. "I've heard some bad things about her floating around."

  "There are negative rumors about every new hero," Carlos defended, speaking up for the first time. "Her dark outfit doesn't help, but I'm sure she means well."

  "It's not just that she looks intimidating. There's a Ward called Flechette in New York who literally carries an arbalest almost as tall as she is. I'm pretty sure she used to carry a sword too when she first debuted. No, there's something up with Shadow Stalker and it's more than just the crossbow."

  "We'll have to see how she does, but I think having more heroes is always a good thing."

  "Yeah, I think Brockton's going to get dangerous in the next year or so. There's a new vilin group that's been committing heists, something about a smoke guy," I warned the Wards. I knew for a fact that the Undersiders were formed sometime in July so I figured two months was long enough for word to have spread. "Add in Faultline's Crew setting up shop in the city and a new loose cannon of a Ward and things are about to get interesting."

  "How do you know all this, Bryce?" Victoria asked. "Really, I don't think even I keep tabs on them this much."

  "I'm a nerd," I said with a nonchant shrug. "Being an internet troll is a hobby of mine. Besides, you know how some people write music scores for movies and stuff? I kind of want to try that. I sometimes look at interesting events involving capes to see if I can get any inspiration. Was super bummed about Canary's arrest, too."

  "I swear, one of these days, I want to hear your stuff," she said.

  "Someday," I hummed noncommittally. 'Someday when I bother to make something that isn't a ripoff of something else.'

  Eventually, talks turned back to the dance, dates, and something about a homecoming court that I didn't pay attention to. Amy and I looked at each other and mutually rolled our eyes as Vicky extolled the virtues of the high school social pyramid. Judging by the knowing smile Dean shot us, that might have been his pn.

  'Stupid empathic social engineers…'

  Whatever Chelsea and Stephanie were pnning, Steph agreed to do it. Victoria told us that we would meet at her house with Eric, and her mom would drive us to the dance.

  Author's Note

  When I started this fic, I didn't mean to make high school such a big part of it. It just kind of happened. Not mad though, I realize it's a bit heavy on school life stuff, but I don't think there's enough depiction of healthy, non-powers-reted retionships in the Worm fandom. I'm just putting some weight on the other side of the scale.

  Thank you for reading. Believe it or not, this is the seventh website I've crossposted to. I want to make sure this site catches up with the others, but it's slow, tedious work. Until then, other sites will have a much more updated library of my works. If you want to read ahead, or check out other stories I've written, you can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.