Blog of a Teenage Superhero

ccasional palm tree thwacking my window. Plantation style， shutters painted candy pink.

stagger through the door. "Pain!" he wails. Finn c

on opposite sides， and a squeaky green armchair sits by the fireplace. Candles flicker on the mantle， blinking orange and bl

lap like a dinner napkin. This is where he usually sleeps. The day he uses a bed like a normal person

ng. When the stove“s on， I lean my head against the cupboards and shut my eyes. I“ve stumbled onto

a

on eggshells by existing. Someone should kidnap me right now. How do I know Masquerade real

des of Finn“s hoodie， t

， Mo

est hook shot. A boy squeals

ng. Dad and Kai， a beautiful symphony. I kneel down on the tile and grab Finn by the shoulders

shing in the glare of candles sitting on the peephole si

t is not a problem. Coat rack analogy， remember? But he“s lankie

earching for the first aid kit. He places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. The touch is remarkably soft， nothing like Masquera

if I go to sleep now I am not waking up at six." He says it all with a laugh. I wish I was so ada

a mug and po

t Kai and I can go all night， drinking anywhere from four

t what happened tonight. I could pretend it was all a bad dream. I could curl up aga

tter. Unf

Then I pour myself another. And another. Finn arches a single thin eyebrow an

:

the school year. I hope it“s a bad prank， a fluke. B

heart att

*

yes， high on his third cup of coffee. He“s already changed into his third pair of khakis and is pacing circles around the "librar

ons. He flails and kicks， fingernails scraping my cheekbone. "C“mon， you little oaf. We“l

nt. To

der. Kai groans， limbs still floundering.

us. Have a go

. Ruffles my hair. "Don“t be too hard on the kiddos， honey." The creases of his dress

. Between his reading and writing， he can usually be found in the complementary basement gym， pumping iron with his buddies.Just

morning，" he says. Khakis are tight. Matching shirt cling

ecial outfit time， a time to show off the new you or whatever， there“s so much more to worry about. Like Masquerade. And

cream from a serving spoon. Finn offers me a chip from

ank

front of his face like a mop. It“s a little shock， seeing Male Beauty look a little more... "mortal" as

in the couch“s wonderful pillowy soft. I stumble to the door with the boys trailing behind. I“m as coordinated as a zombie， stumbling over the bath mat， staggering through the carp

ion has become spotty and dark. Sunlight burns through my squinted eyelids and I make a so

f our bath mat foyer a

*

No school. Sleep in as long as you want. Big cups of joe you can take as long as you care sipping down

irection without a quarterly report card telling you how much you suck. Antisocial should be my middle name

eing

s own sor

ribly wrong. The roof is nailed out of wavy gray tin. The windows are concave and bend outward like a fish bowl. The curve of the building“s sides and the fla

rs， and every other entrance to the Twisted Amusement Park of Drama and Doom. Girls in glittery nail polish and lipstick， boys in shirts that say “Swag“ and “

his hair， so the grease is less noticeable to the un

supervillain." I puff up my ches

girls catches my eyes and I j

ls?" He says it just like that

Kai adds with a

ome on， guys." I spin on my heel， kicking up grit and loose gravel. "Let“s get our educ

ture is speeding towards them on the crushing wings of “adulthood.“ Do they care a quasi-famous klutz is skipping throug

gs). You also know about the panic that ensues on the first day. Freshman navigating the maze with faces pale and eyes wild with terror. Upperclassmen forgetting the basic blueprint of the school and slapping fives by the staircase， boredom and excitemen

meant to have a statue of the superhero in front of the doors， but she

he favorite color is red， but blue， green， yellow， and black also make an appearance. It makes my face flu

cher， Mr. Branders， taps his dusty chalkboard with a pool cue. And that“s all you really need to know about h

ge， and slump back down for class to begin. But Principal Laurel“s voice rings through the speakers， clear as crystal. "

can make out a sliver of ocean， I remember that all the boys here have rockstar golden locks. Or at least， too many to suspect every one of them of bein

ul students whom I“m sure k

. Or， well， as much as you can in a sweaty yellow plastic chair， knees slamming up into the desk. I“m good at

hat“s why we“re combining our Expectations Assembly and our Studen

tions. My black armband wasn

I have to g

hot on my cheek. I whip around. The kids behind me shoot a bo

ere. And he“s c