My mother’s first case, as the newly appointed District Attorney for the newly instated mayor of the city, was to take on Starry Knight and Wingdinger. Cheryl had blathered on and on and on about it all through breakfast, and for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t the food which turned me off from eating. It was the thought of my mother personally taking me through the court system, haranguing me, and relishing in the intellectual, emotional, and legal defeat of her oldest child.
“Okay, class, presentation time,” Martha announced. “If you didn’t get the notes get them from someone else later. I suggest someone trustworthy.” I could tell from her piercing gaze she knew I’d blown off the majority of the assignment. I gave her a charming grin in reply.
“Any volunteers to go first?”
I quickly glanced around; no one was really volunteering (as usual.) I took that as my cue to pull out my Game Pac. It had saved me countless times before from the mighty forces of boredom. And no offense to Martha, but her class would be no exception today.
I hadn't played as much because of winter break from school, but I was anxious to keep my title as Tetris King (a small title with a big ego boost.)
“Harbor? Why don't you go first?” Martha barked, after the awkward silence declared no one would step up willingly.
Jason smiled widely (what a fake.) “I was just about to ask if I could go,” he declared.
I snorted back some laughter. Jason was trying to imitate me, no doubt. But to no avail; I would’ve done it with more feeling and a slight pause, to show I was really thinking about it. Amateur.
Don’t get me wrong; Jason had his strengths, but sucking up was not one of them.
“I brought in a newspaper article,” Jason said. “It's about Wingdinger, one of the city's superheroes.” He grinned. “It's cool because Wingdinger is a bit of a loser. If I was a superhero, I would have a much cooler costume and wouldn’t have put the wingdings on my head.”
I nearly choked on my sudden outrage. A loser!? Me? I’d never been called a loser before in my whole life–unlike Jason! Now I had a new appreciation for running out of the party on Friday.
True to the superhero creed, none of my friends knew of my Wingdinger identity. Elysian had warned me (more than necessary, of course) the more people who knew, the more danger I would be in. And knowing some of my friends' loud mouth tendencies (Poncey), I agreed with him. For once.
Although I had thought about telling Gwen more than a few times. If for no other reason than because all the superheroes who tell their girlfriends about their secret identity get to be with them in the end. I looked over at her now, and she had a small smile on her face as Jason presented. It made me feel better. Slightly.
“What do you mean when you say 'wingdings,’ Harbor?” Martha asked, distracting me out of my angry stupor. “I've never heard that before.”
“Wingdings are the wispy strands of hair at the side of your head. Guys normally have sideburns, let's put it like that,” Jason replied. “A woman probably named him.”
I was really glad when Poncey started haranguing Jason about his excessive knowledge of hair, because I was having a hard time not going red. I couldn’t help the costume! And it had been a woman who’d “officially” given me the name (Patricia Rookwood, the local news anchorwoman, held a contest two months ago to name my dual persona. After everything from knockoff pop-culture names like “Fairy Trotter” and “Frequent Flyer” to awkward ones like “Crisp Angel,” Chatty Patty declared ‘Wingdinger’ to be the winning name of choice.)
And I was stuck with it, because if I were to get a lawyer to sue, my mother would find out about my identity (what is the point of being a teenager if you don’t keep secrets from your parents?) And Cheryl, since she is now on the opposing side, would make sure I lose (despite her inadequacies as a mother, her lawyer skills were razor sharp.)
Plus I didn’t really have any idea what else I could call my superhero self. It’s not something I’d ever really had to worry about before a few months ago. So that might be a good lesson for teenagers today: Always have a superhero name ready, in case you ever find out you actually are one.
“Do you think you'd like to be a superhero, Jason?” Martha asked, mildly intrigued.
“Yeah, it'd be cool. Especially if I could fly,” Jason grinned. “I'd never take the bus and I wouldn't have to pay any money for gas! I'd save billions.”
“What about helping people?” Martha asked. “Do you think superheroes are obligated to help people out who need it? Anyone?”
“Well, sure,” Poncey spoke up. “But there are more important things like girls, and dating, and money to consider –”
“That’s enough. Thank you, Harbor,” Mrs. Smithe interrupted. “Why don't you pick someone to go next?”
“Sure,” Jason smiled.
I bit back another laugh. Jason could never be like me; was too ignorant to be good at being a ringleader.
Jason picked Poncey to go next.
When Poncey’s first words were, “I got this article from my friend Mikey Salyards,” I groaned to myself. I knew what was coming at that point.
Mikey was my best friend; a few months back, he'd even helped me save Gwen from the evil supernatural forces currently inhabiting the city. Mikey was very popular. He was so popular, he used to be known for having a new girlfriend almost every week. I mean “used to” here because Mikey hadn't had a new one in some weeks. But there was a reason as to why.
I paused my game briefly to watch. If I knew Mikey the way I think I do, I'd bet anything he brought Poncey an article about–
“This magazine article from Trends features Starry Knight, the other superhero running around town,” Poncey grinned, proudly presented the article.
Yes, there it was. I'd been right (of course.) And then I was back to the Tetris game.
“No one's gotten a good picture of her or Wingdinger,” I could hear him drone on, “So they attempted to draw Starry Knight based on Mikey’s and Gwen's descriptions. But Mikey insists they didn’t have it right. She has slightly slanted eyes, and they are more like violets more than grapes.”
I pushed the pause button again; a mixture of admiration and disgust rushed through me.
I knew Mikey was obsessed with finding Starry Knight and asking her out; until then, no other girl was for him–including all the cheerleaders. And I was even tired of teasing him about it at that point; it didn’t work out well for me when I did anyway, because he said I was stuck on Gwen.
That reminded me, I hadn’t told him yet she’d agreed to go out on a date with me. A smug look pushed its way onto my face. I decided I’d tell him during English. It wasn’t like there was going to be anything important to worry about in that class. And Tim Ryder was going to be there, too, so it would be doubly satisfying.
Let’s put it like this: if I was an X-Box, Tim was the toy you would find at the bottom of a cereal box–a box of cheap cereal, at that.
“Mikey insists Starry Knight is the most beautiful woman in the world. Plus she's got the best archery skills,” Poncey concluded.
Pathetic. I had a strong feeling Mikey had babbled the entire speech to Poncey about three minutes before class had started.
“Nice to know you've got standards when it comes to girls,” Jason called out jokingly.
The class fubbled with laughter. And I felt left out, because as much as I couldn’t stand her, Mikey/Poncey had a point. I laughed anyway.
“Okay class, Poncey is entitled to his own opinion,” Martha snapped. “Even if it is actually someone else’s.”
The end of first period came soon after I finished my presentation, which was a respectable tabloid report on some celebrity’s arrest and upcoming court date. Other than my presentation, I hadn’t taken the slightest break from my Tetris game.
“You guys think these presentations will go on for the rest of the period?” I asked blandly as I aced another row.
“I don’t know,” Poncey shrugg
ed. “Martha’ll probably just make us go back to notes otherwise.”
“That’s good,” I muttered. “I don’t really want anything to exciting to happen today.”
I glanced over at Gwen, whom I had been ignoring for the most of the morning while I was working off my bad mood. She was busy talking to her friends, Samantha Carter and Brittany Taylor, who in turn were sneaking suspicious looks in my direction every other moment.
Ugh. I decided it would be best to get Gwen some new friends after we were further along in our relationship. Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to do any actual work with that, though; it was in my best interest to distract Gwen and allow my friends to overshadow hers, until her friends were lost in some sort of oblivion.
Jason leaned in. “Hey, I hear the swim meet coming up is going to be packed,” he said. “I'm getting excited.”
“Me, too,” I agreed, both with his statement and the change of subject.
The swim season was my real chance to shine, believe it or not. Don’t get me wrong–I was a star on the football field as well. But when I hit the water, people were brought to tears with the perfection of my form and the amazement of my speed. Well, close enough to tears, anyway.
And at the next swim meet, college scouts would be present. It’s always something to look forward to, when people come hundreds of miles to beg you to sign onto their college–offering full tuition and fees–merely because you can swim better than practically everyone else in the state. Maybe even in the whole country, too.
I’d known for some time already my parents would pay for my college, but I was really one of those people who didn't really want to be a trust-fund baby. Not without my own effort.
Besides, at the rate I was going, I’d be getting money back from college.
Still focused on my Game Pac, settled down into my chair, I fiddled away my time as Jason and Poncey talked sports. All the while, my mind was once more helplessly and gloriously sacrificed to the onslaught of mindless and addictive gaming. I grinned as my Tetris pieces started falling faster and faster, almost like shooting stars . . . I barely noticed the passing time.
“Wonder if Mrs. Smithe is coming back?” Jason asked.
“Don't know? You think she fell in?” Poncey snickered.
“Maybe she's trying to get more coffee?” I suggested, hardly paying any attention at all to them.
I didn’t really care where Martha had gone, since it gave me some worry-free time to play my game system in peace. I was still a bit sore at Mrs. Smithe for giving me a detention last semester–not that I held it against her, or anything.
Martha entered the room at last, but I barely noticed. She began talking to the class, while I was so wrapped up in my game–I was closing in on thirty-five thousand, which would set a new record if I passed it–that I only snapped back to attention when I heard my name.
“. . . So why don't you take the seat behind Dinger there? I'm sure he'll be more than willing to help you feel welcome.”
My eyes shot up to see a girl up front with Martha. My first thought was I couldn’t believe she was wearing a Rosemont uniform. In Central, of all places.
There was an accompanying stillness in the room at that moment, like an invisible barrier of pure tension. It’s only when I heard a small beeping noise I realized I’d lost my Tetris game. In the two seconds I’d been distracted. Short of a new record by only ten points.
I mumble a curse or two under my breath before tapping Jason on the shoulder. “What's going on?”
“Apparently we've got a new student or something,” Jason shrugged.
“Looks like she's from Rosemont. Probably a preppy, spoiled brat,” I dismissed easily enough.
Meanwhile, Martha turned toward the rest of the class. “Everyone, this is–”
The girl stepped forward. “Please, call me Raiya, Mrs. Smithe,” she interrupted gently.
“All right. Class, this is Raiya Cole. She'll be joining our class for the rest of the year. I expect each and every one of you . . .”
“Raiya Cole?” Jason leaned forward in curiosity, interrupting my attention to Martha. “I wonder if she's–”
“All right boys and girls, you've had your break. We’ve got a history benchmark coming up soon, and we need to finish our presentations today.”
Raiya made her way over to the seat behind me. I looked at her briefly as she passed and sat down. I snorted to myself at the ugly brown and white Rosemont uniform; I hadn’t seen one since the school's failed attempt to put on a play last fall, and I could honestly say I had no regrets about that.
Rosemont Academy had been Central’s main football rival, but that all stopped (supposedly) when Rosemont had been demolished by the meteor that smashed into the city last October. Since it was a private academy, most kids there were rich and spoiled; there were some 'normal' kids, but they made up only two percent of school’s population.
“Psst! Raiya!” I glanced over to see Gwen hanging out of her seat as she waved to the new girl. “Hi!”
Great, Gwen seems to know her, I thought. Maybe Raiya was from the play. There was a nagging tug on my memory when I looked at her.
She didn’t look back as I discreetly scrutinized her. It was weird having someone sitting behind me. I don’t think I liked it.
It was probably more out of this concern or maybe it was just boredom that I decided to keep tabs on her throughout the hour. I did want to be sure she didn’t do anything weird to me. Like putting chewed gum in my hair. Or putting a curse on me (You can’t blame me for thinking this. She was from Rosemont, after all.)
Boy, she was not pretty. Her dull, brown hair was pulled back, but a lot of it had fallen free, blocking a lot of her face from clear view. She seemed to be very plain. Very, very ordinary looking.
It was closer to the end of the period when I peeked back at her, and saw her dark eyes snap to at mine. “What do you want?” she asked, blasé enough to make me irritated. Like she’d been expecting me to say something.
“Er . . . hi,” I attempted to act normal even as I felt awkward for getting caught gawking.
She said nothing in reply, just staring at me under the cover of her shaggy bangs. It did nothing to help me feel less awkward, to say the least.
I didn't want to be rude, or at least appear rude, even if she was certainly not worried about that. So I tried again. A bracelet on her arm caught my attention. Obviously it’s one of a kind, very expensive. “Nice bracelet,” I complimented.
Girls love it when guys compliment them. And if they’re rich, they love it all the more, because all the rich girls I know are flaky (Via Delorosa, my ex-girlfriend from last year, dashed across my mind’s eye.)
So I was surprised when she didn’t stop looking at me.
That’s odd. I compulsively stared at her for a few more seconds, flustered.
Her eyes narrowed; I could almost feel the snap! of her patience as it finally cracked. “What?” she asked a moment later, her voice clearly tired and borderline irritated.
“Nothing,” I replied disdainfully, my patience and politics gone. “It's not every day I see someone from Rosemont in this school.”
“Well,” Raiya finally met my gaze again, this time with a pinch of challenge sparkling in her eyes. “I guess it’s not every day I get stared at by someone who looks like a turtle.”
Poncey, who apparently was listening in to my conversation without my knowledge, burst out laughing. “That was good,” he laughed, holding out his hand to Raiya for a high-five. When she didn’t respond, and he noticed my glare, he wisely pulled back (he was already in trouble for eavesdropping, no need to make it worse.) “Sorry, Dinger.”
Looks like I've got some adversaries in school as well as out of school.
Oh well. It was nothing new, really. Such was the fate of the popular.
I was about to say something nasty about Rosemont again, just to get her going, when Gwen came up beside us. Apparently the period was over.
Huh
? Where did the time go?
“Hi, Raiya!” She smiled. “I haven't seen you in a while. How are you?”
I interrupted here. “Gwen, you know her? She just called me a turtle!”
“No, I said you looked like one,” Raiya calmly corrected me. “I didn’t say you were one.”
Gwen laughed. “Hmm . . . you know, she's got a point.”
“What!?”
Raiya shrugged. “Is this a friend of yours, Gwen?”
Gwen turned to me. “Why didn't you introduce yourself?” There was a bit of surprise in her voice, which annoyed me; it was like I’d fallen short of her expectations, and I never did that.
“I'm Ham Dinger,” I sneered out, only for Gwen’s sake. “And I was not –”
“I'm sorry, what? Did you say 'humdinger'? You're a humdinger?” Raiya smoothly interrupted me. A little too smoothly . . .
“That's it!” Poncey practically squealed with delight (What was he doing, eavesdropping again!?) “Humdinger! It's a perfect nickname for you.”
“I like it,” Jason agreed, turning around with new enthusiasm. “You're a real humdinger, Dinger.” He laughed.
I was suddenly torn between beating up my friends for giving me trouble or cursing out the girl who started it all. I was just about to carry out the latter when the bell rang.
“Come with me, Raiya. I’ll help you find your way around school,” Gwen offered, pulling on Raiya’s arm.
Raiya brushed right past me. I wouldn’t have thought anything of her ignorance if she hadn’t flashed me a small smirk as she walked out the door. Sharp heat flashed through me as my rage boiled.
She might have won this round, but there’s no way she would ever get the best of me again, I thought. I marched up to Mrs. Smithe's desk, ready to face the challenge directly. “Mrs. Smithe, would you move that girl from behind me, please?”
“Why? She's perfectly fine where she is. Besides, I didn't see her distracting you at all.”
“But she was!”
“Now, Dinger, come on, it's just one girl. Besides, you're Mr. Popular. Maybe you’ll be able to help her adjust to the school.”