James Knight: Teenage Superhuman - Book One

Fourteen

My veins pulsed with adrenaline, anticipating a confrontation with Mark, who always appeared out of nowhere and pushed me against my locker, but to my surprise, Noah leaned against my locker, a smug smirk on his lips.

"Morning, Knight," he greeted.

"Uh, good morning," I responded, more of a question than a statement. I couldn't help but wonder what Noah's intentions were.

"How's your brother?" Noah inquired as I unlocked my locker and exchanged my books, preparing for the day ahead.

"He's, uh, okay, I guess," I cautiously answered, monitoring Noah. I instinctively pushed him away as he extended his arm over my shoulders, causing him to scowl.

"I apologize if I overstepped, mate," he frowned.

Not wanting to upset him or reveal my suspicions, I was as honest as possible. "No, it's just that I barely know you," I explained, observing Noah closely. He seemed normal, but I couldn't be sure. After all, besides Mark, no one at school knew about my superpowers-or so I thought.

"How's your dad and uncle?" Noah continued his questioning. I quickly packed my bag, slamming my locker shut. Who was this guy, and how did he know so much about my family? Was my suspicion correct? Was he another super? If so, which one? I couldn't determine if I could trust him, but he followed behind me as I headed toward the classroom, maintaining a close distance.

I chose a front desk near the doorway, tossing my backpack onto the desk, and Noah took the desk next to me. My gaze shifted to Max, glaring at me in the back row. Mark was beside him, also observing me, but his attention shifted to Noah, who forcefully etched his name into the wooden desk with his pen.

Mr. Kinley sat at his desk, counting the students as they entered the classroom. His annoyance was virtuous, although he kept it to himself.

"If it helps, they don't seem like bad guys," Noah gestured toward Mark and his friends. Then, he placed his pen between his teeth and muttered, "However, Maximus is a jerk."

I huffed, mumbling in response, "Good to know." My eyes met Max's gaze before I looked away. He cracked his knuckles loudly, attempting to intimidate me.

Noah was right-Max frightened me, and the possibility of him being another super scared me even more. I tried to keep my distance from Max and Mark. Did it work? No. Did I try? Absolutely. But no matter how hard I tried, it was nearly impossible to avoid them.

∆∆∆

In the kitchen, Derek greeted me with leftover brookies and a glass of milk. He watched as I levitated a can of Sprite to my lips. "Dad's home," he noted. I grabbed the can from the air and placed it down a moment later. Soon after, our father walked into the room, wet from the rain outside. He held the mail, saving it from getting soaked, and Derek gave me an "I told you so" look.

"I'm going for a drive this evening, and I was hoping you could come with me, James," my father announced. Derek and I exchanged glances.

"Did Reignson let you off today?" Derek asked, taking a big gulp of milk and leaving a milk mustache.

"Yep," my father replied. Then, he snatched Derek's brookie from his fingers and devoured it in one bite. "Thanks, Derek," he mumbled with a mouthful of food before leaving the room. Derek stared at the spot where our father had stood, pouting.

"Why does everyone always take my food?" he complained, and I chuckled.

"Bad luck, I guess," I replied, leaning against the broken countertop, unintentionally causing more debris to fall.

"Son of a bitch!" I cursed, my super strength causing the countertop to crumble further. I moved away from it, still holding my Sprite, and left the kitchen.

∆∆∆

My father drove through the winding hills of Phoenix, strictly following the speed limits. After recent events, I wasn't sure if I enjoyed these drives, but I was relieved to talk to my father and ensure his safety.

He drove silently, focusing on the peaceful, dark road illuminated by the moon and streetlights. Rain fell heavily, creating a rhythmic pattern on the car's roof.

"I don't want you hanging out with Derek while he's at work," my father stated. "As much as I want you to attend the academy after graduation, he shouldn't be the most influential person in your life." My father couldn't have been more wrong. Derek had saved me countless times, and I had helped him, too. If it weren't for our partnership, Derek might not be a cop today, and I wouldn't have gained the reputation of being one of the most renowned superheroes.

"Dad!" I groaned. He glanced at me momentarily, focusing on the road as we approached a red light.

"James, you're sixteen," he declared, briefly diverting his gaze from the road. I sighed and reluctantly accepted that my father had a point. I understood that in situations like this, we were a team. However, I had no desire to parade around town as a superhero and sidekick. It boosted my confidence and provided an adrenaline rush, a way to combat boredom. My father suddenly pressed the accelerator, speeding down the road, while I leaned against the car window.

"If you enjoy going with Derek so much, maybe I should enroll you in ROTC or something," my father suggested. The problem was that Mark was an ROTC student, and I tried my best to stay as far away from my enemy as possible. I sighed deeply and sank further into the window.

"Nope," I replied.

My dad grunted, frustrated by my resistance. "I should have done that when you started high school."

A dark figure descended from the sky, creating a deep crater on the street before us. My father slammed on the brakes, and the car stopped. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, he stared at the young super standing in the headlights.

"What the hell!" my dad exclaimed. My fists clenched, ready for a fight, but I held back since my father was with me. The super, wearing a dark gray hoodie and a mask that covered only his eyes, leaned against the hood of our car, blocking our path. Raindrops drenched his hoodie, and we locked eyes for a moment.

"I don't want to harm you. I want to talk," a youthful yet masculine Australian voice resonated in my mind. The boy's gaze shifted to my father, who sat in the driver's seat and shrugged before returning to me. Fear surged through me, unsure if this person could read minds. My father honked the horn, glaring at the super kid and straining to make out his figure in the moonlit neighborhood. The kid stood there, raising an eyebrow.

"I guess I'll take a raincheck, mate," the voice echoed in my head again. He saluted me and vanished into the rain.

"What was that all about?" my father asked, wide-eyed. I shrugged in confusion and sighed.

"I'm not sure yet," I replied, staring at the open road ahead, my breath quickening with anxiety. I didn't know and wasn't sure I wanted to find out.