A H.E.R.O.S PROJECT 12

21. Tonight, it is

Tuesday.

Tuesdays suck for a plethora of reasons.

There are random pop quizzes and disgusting food options in the cafeteria on Tuesdays. Tuesday is too close to Monday. Tuesdays are slow and tedious, and it takes too long for it to be Wednesday.

I loathe this Tuesday because this Tuesday might be my last Tuesday.

Today, my morning starts the same. Richie wakes me up as the sun seeps through my blinds. I note his bloodshot eyes when we stare at each other for too long, which tells me everything. Richie was up all night. Thinking, making our cure, he promises he's so close to developing.

I sit on the toilet in the bathroom, and Richie begins examining my body. Both my legs are gone. Not gone, gone, just wholly sheathed in silver metal scales that divide into many lines. I think I resemble that tall hot guy from X-Men. You know, his superpower is invincibility. Colossus.

Silver scales nearly cover my entire right arm, and bending my wrist is a chore. Shiny silver plates sleek down my breasts, stomach, and back and those points on my shoulders where the scales sprout the tallest spun elaborately. Red gems rest inside those scale openings and blossom like flowers. I would think those flowering gems were pretty if this ordeal weren't so terrifying.

Richie's transformation is a different horror.

His face and neck are the only two body parts free of scales. Silver scales cover his hands and feet. His mobility is limited, and he waddles like a penguin because his scales interfere with his basic movements. Then Richie hasn't talked about Number Two catching on fire yesterday. Richie ignores me whenever I bring it up and escapes to his laboratory.

"Dougie and Lee will be at our house in a few minutes. Get dressed so we can talk before school starts."

"How long will we do this 'school thing,' Richie?"

Richie takes his glasses off, straining to sit on the lip of the tub. It takes him a moment to get comfortable, even though I know he's not. All that metal, weight dragging him down, thickening every second is too much for his little body to carry. "Anaya, this isn't it. Not the end. I think I can take Number Twelve and Two off us." He shows me his metal arms. "We'll begin extraction tonight. If I'm right, we have until nine p.m. tomorrow before we submerge."

Submerge translates to die.

I look at my human hands, noting the difference between my old flesh and new.

"Tonight it is."