Excerpt: SEMI-PSEUDO-SUPERHEROES
Someone must have beenteaching Sylvia boxing. She got in a good right hook between my left temple andeye socket before I realized she was getting physical. Sylvia hadn't tried to inflictcapital punishment on those who crossed her since fifth grade.
While I didn't use mytelekinetic power to shove her away, pin her to the wall, maybe even shove her throughthe wall, honesty compels me to admit that Harry saved me. Maybe he had a littleability to fly, or least do the long jump fast, and hard. He body-slammed Sylviafrom behind while she was spinning around and coming back in for another strike.I was still catching my breath and seeing stars. Then suddenly the male five percentof the faculty and staff stormed into the room and got hold of Sylvia.
Dr. Butterfield had heardeverything, and proved he had a future writing political speeches with the greatspin he put on the whole encounter. Without repeating a single word that eitherof us said, he put everything on Sylvia. She was a resident at the school and Iwas a guest. She had come back to the chapel when she should have been heading toher next class. It all worked against her.
The headmistress cameto apologize while we were sitting in Dr. Butterfield's private quarters. He wasdigging some very old ice from the back of his tiny English refrigerator to puton my eye. She assured us that Sylvia had gone "beyond the pale" (yeah,they still said that in Jolly Olde England) and had wasted the last of many secondchances granted her.
Whatever that meant, itdidn't mean Sylvia returned to Neighborlee High for the rest of our junior year.Unfortunately, she did come back for our senior year.
I couldn't wait to gethome and report to the "We loathe Sylvia Grandstone club." It wasn't reallyan official group, although a number of people in our graduating class confessedthey had looked into voodoo dolls and sending requests to the State Department tokeep her from coming back into the country.
No, that wasn't very matureof me. It also wasn't very mature that I let Mum and Pop praise me for not usingmy powers to slam Sylvia into the wall, or through a window, or just hold her upin the air and spin her around like a WWE wrestling champion. I didn't use my telekinesisbecause I didn't get a chance. Ten-plus years of self-imposed "never use ourtalents where other people can see" made me hesitate. Even when it came toa chance to work out my frustrations on Sylvia Grandstone and get payback for allmy friends at school.
So I really didn't deserveany of the kudos I got. Sympathy for my black eye, yes, I earned that. Praise fornot slamming that spoiled brat snot into a greasy makeup smear on the stonewall of the chapel? Nope.
