Jackson Humes is Not a Superhero

CHAPTER SEVEN

My aunt decided that my punishment would be to work weekends at the café for an entire month, so Saturday morning found me waking up at 4:30am.

Being a heavy sleeper meant setting my wake up tone on Klaxton—you know, the sound you would expect to hear if Godzilla ever attacked San Francisco. As soon as it went off I sat up and slammed my head into the ceiling. My grogginess immediately cleared and was replaced by adrenaline. I pushed away from the ceiling and managed to turn myself around in the air. It was still dark outside, but the dim light from my blaring phone illuminated enough of my bedroom to see that my bed was a good seven feet below me.

I performed a sort of swimming stroke with my arms and legs, but it didn't do much good. I flipped back around and kicked away from the ceiling as hard as I could, but I only floated down a few feet. I spun back to face the ground and searched frantically for something to grab on to. If I didn't shut my phone off soon, my aunt was going to come barging into my room and find me floating in mid air.

"Jackson!" There were three loud knocks on my bedroom door.

There was a sudden whoosh of air and the brief sensation of falling. I hit the bed, bounced off, became airborne for another second, and landed on the hardwood floor in a tangle of bed sheets and pillows.

My aunt walked in and flipped on the light. She was wearing a pink polo shirt and neatly pressed khakis. She was clearly in the middle of doing her makeup and looked quite annoyed with me. "What is going on?" She didn't wait for an answer as she stepped over my crumpled body and shut off the alarm. "Why are you on the floor?"

"I fell out of bed." I explained, a little breathless. I suspected if I tried to come clean she would probably have me committed.

She shook her head in dismay. She was still angry with me and didn't bother to hide it. Apparently, I couldn't do anything right. "Get dressed, we're leaving in ten minutes."

I remained on the floor for a little while after she left my room, trying to gather my thoughts. I thought about sending Marv a message, but I didn't think he would respond. He had made his triumphant return to school on Wednesday. Wherever he went, people burst out into random applause and cheers. During one of these impromptu standing ovations we had walked right past each other, but he didn't so much as look at me.

* * *

My aunt's café was, what I imagined to be, an old lady's wet dream. Most people under the age of thirty avoided it at all costs. Not that I could blame them. It just wasn't a cool place to hang out. Doilies and porcelain trinkets abounded throughout; the walls were papered with flowers and vines in soothing pastel colors that stretched from floorboard to ceiling; dozens of sinister looking China dolls were entombed in an old cabinet. Even the smell of coffee wasn't strong enough to repel the scent of old lady perfume.

I was pulling the rubber mats back in from the alley after having hosed them down thoroughly when Sarah waddled into the kitchen and leaned against one of the sinks. She was wearing an extremely tight canary-colored top that showcased her enormous belly. I was pretty sure she was working the pregnancy angle to get better tips. "Some guy named Jesse is asking for you."

"Okay, thanks." I did my best to ignore the implication in her voice, but it wasn't enough.

"Is he your boyfriend?" She raised her eyebrows several times, which was a gesture that worked with cartoon characters but looked downright lame when she did it. "He's ca-uuute!"

"He's just someone from school, nosy Rosy," I said a little too aggressively. "We're working on a project for class."

"Okay Miss Thaaang, no need to throw a hissy fit. It was just a question, God. You baby gays are so bitchy." She waddled back out to the counter with an air of having been offended. She annoyed me to no end, but I would eventually have to apologize. No one sulked or held a grudge longer than Sarah did.