I met my best friend like this:

It was Monday morning and the sky was bright, and I was walking to school with my sister. We were good students but always late to school (a little contradictory, if you ask me), and today was no exception, the warm sun watching as we strolled lazily down the street. Soft footsteps on pavement, and then some kid crashed into me, abruptly, a bolt of lightning.

"Sorry."

He looked like my age. Elvis hair, inky black and wavy. He was my height, maybe a little taller, lean and blue-eyed. He had a limp, but that didn't stop him from sauntering around like he had all the confidence in the world, and he flashed a charming smile at my sister as he passed by. What a guy.

"Are you going to pass on the magic?" My sister whispered to me, her cheeks pink. She watched him go, her eyes on the butt in the loose jeans slipping down skinny hips.

I screwed up my eyes, wrinkled my nose. "To that guy? Never."

"Why not?"

I shifted the weight of my backpack, hitching it higher up my shoulder. "I don't know him. Besides, he smiled at you."

"Well, is it illegal to smile at me, Billy?" She demanded.

"Hey, I'm just looking for excuses." I sighed. "Don't have a stroke, Mary."

A wall collapsed and crushed a boy.

I was big and red and yellow again, but I couldn't rescue the kid in time. He was buried under rubble, mountains of it, and I was searching and I couldn't find him. Where the hell was Solomon's wisdom now, when I needed it?

A limb stuck out. I saw an arm, a dirty tattered blue sleeve, and I flew over, my cape flapping feebly behind me. His fingers clenched weakly, grasped nothing. He was still alive. Barely. I could save his life.

I knew how.

Was this a sign from the wizard himself?

Perhaps. Perhaps he was telling me to give this boy the power, to make him something like me, a man/boy with a fancy costume.

Did I have another choice?

I moved a piece of wall aside, and I saw the boy's face.

It was him.

This really was a sign.

"It's kind of difficult not being able to say my own name when I'm a hero."

I lifted a car that was parked backwards and flipped it around. Always the good citizen. Always the friendly Boy Scout. I could be Superman… or, you know, I could be sued for infringement. That was possible, too. We were almost the same, power-wise, but I liked to believe that I was more powerful. "Maybe you should call yourself something else."

"Hmm…" Freddy ran his hand through that floppy, irritating Elvis hair. "Something with three, like Marvel 3, since I'm third. You and your lady friend are first and second."

"My lady friend?" I repeated, bewildered.

He blinked. "Isn't Mary your girl?"

That was ridiculous. I barked a laugh. "Oh, no, she's my sister. Can't you see the resemblance?"

"Not before." Pause. "Now, maybe. A little." He tilted his head to the side, then took a breath and surrendered to an epiphany. "Hey, you're a lot older than me, but I have to say… you're my best friend. Thanks for saving my life and making me something more than human. I can't say that enough."

A long silence, and I struggled to articulate my thoughts. Say something, my inner voice urged. Something strong, profound, and possibly fashioned the American way.

But only "I'm not that much older than you" came tumbling out. It was all honesty, though so very hard to believe, because my enormous muscles and adult face proved otherwise.

He laughed like it was funny. "You're about thirty, man. I'm fifteen. You're twice my age!"

"Actually…" Exhale. "Actually, I'm fifteen too."

There was no heading back. I uttered the word, and lightning ricocheted down, and my bulky body crackled with energy. In that flash, I became gangly again, all pubescent bits and awkward naïveté, and he stared at me slack-jawed, frozen in that blue suit of his.

"Dude," he breathed, stunned. "Dude!"

I tugged at my collar, sheepish. "Yeah, man, I know."

"Wait a minute." He hit a jackpot memory. "You're that kid I bumped into! With the pretty girlfriend!"

"Sister." I felt free to scowl. "Can't you see the resemblance?"

"No way." His eyes widened and he swallowed. "She's—?"

"Yep."

"Whoa."

"Yeah, yeah." He'd better not hit on her. "We Marvels stick together. C'mon, let's hang out."

Skipping stones, our pebbles flew for miles. I had the urge to bring my radio equipment and record all of our conversations. Or maybe not. They weren't very intellectual—we dared each other to do stupid things, dumb but fun, like jumping from petrifying heights and transforming at the very last moment, right before we became sidewalk stains. It was exhilarating, free falling without the fear, because I knew I had power and I wasn't afraid of anything at all. That was something special in itself.

So I would fall, the wind blowing my hair back and whipping my face, and I'd turn to him and grin and he'd grin back and we'd shout our favorite words (separate, not the same, and mine was dedicated to the wizard and his were dedicated to me) at the top of our lungs.

I loved that feeling when my body heated up from the lightning and I became so much more than I was. I was everything that any kid or teen wanted to be, and I was still me. And at the same time, my best friend was just like me, and my twin sister was just like me, and we were a family. It was magical.

Of course, it didn't last. I became something more.

And here I'd quote Walt Whitman. "O Captain, my captain, our fearful trip is done."

"He's gone. So you'll take my spot, and I'll take his."

"Will I be able to see you?"

"Not as often. I'll be a wizard. But you'll be… you'll be the world's greatest hero!"

He smirked. "Gee, Billy, look at the size of your ego."

"Oh, shut up, Junior."

Secretly, I had Peter Pan syndrome. Didn't want to grow up.

To Freddy, I acted like I had all the authority. I think, along the way, we both realized that I didn't.

Before, I'd experienced on an almost daily basis what it was like to be a grown-up. Whenever there was trouble, I became an adult for a short while. I didn't want to be one at heart, too. I would always treat growing up as a side job, a little hobby like fighting crime and saving lives.

I'd always be just a kid on a throne.

Oh, I didn't want to grow up. The more my other identity appeared, the more I craved youth.

But not Freddy. He was something else entirely.

And it was silly how emotional two teenage jerks like us could be when it was time to say goodbye.

"Freddy, man, I love you. Don't let me down."

Traces of a smile. "Yeah, I love you too, Billy, you douche bag."

Then the soft sigh of a whisper, a word spoken only in his dreams.

"Shazam!"