It's funny that 'how are you' is all it takes to get me going.
"I'm nervous; I don't think I've ever been this nervous before. Well, except that time in Disneyland when I was on Splash Mountain and absolutely convinced that I would fall out to my impending death on the jagged fake rocks below while flying down that massive waterfall of doom, but this is a close second; nose and nose or whatever. But I think I had good reason for that one too, I mean, really, no seven year old should ever have to experience such trauma and still be expected to grow and function normally. So forgive me for not being overwhelmed with enthusiasm… okay; my tendency of overly sarcastic rambling frustrates some people, so I'll try to fill you in using the least amount of words I can: I'm going to Sky High... Okay, screw few words. I'm going to a school for super heroes – and their brains… or sidekicks, whichever name you like – who will grow up to save – or take over, whichever is their forte – the world. This wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for these few facts.
A) My power sucks, b) my twin brother is embarrassing, and c) if I do manage to live through my treacherous teenage years, I plan on hiding away as a bum, or the male equivalent of a crazy cat lady, depending on if my allergies go away. Anyways, back to the point of me freaking out. I'm leaving in less than an hour to go meet an excessively large group of adolescents who will grow up to do great things while I'm hoping I can manage okay things. You see how this could be a problem. Oh, plus also I'm a sophomore, meaning that I'll either pretend I know where I'm going like all the other sophomores, cling to my brother and his annoyingly preppy friends, or be stuck getting shown around with the freshies. Even if I hadn't been attending a school for the abnormal and overachieving, it still would have been scary.
And to top it all off, I'm only going because of Zach, the aforementioned brother; Once again, here I am rambling when you haven't been updated, so I'll recap. When Zach and I were born we were given up for adoption because our real parents simply weren't ready for the huge responsibility of having a family, even though they loved us with all their hearts. Although that is a huge load of crap, that's what the social worker told us when we asked why we were going to live with people we had never met. I hate how strangers are always at the top of the 'things to avoid' list except at Christmas when little kids are forced to sit in some random fat pedophile's lap, and when you're an orphan. Okay, now that I have successfully managed to steer the story in a completely insignificant and pointless direction, I'll finish explaining. This is our most recent foster home – one we've been at for just over a year, which – for us – is a record. When they adopted us from the MOFS – Maxville orphanage for supers – they decided to send me to a school that would 'help me embrace the heroic journey that lies ahead.' Or, at least that's what the pamphlet said. So, I went to Sea High and Zach went to Sky High; but this year they decided – for Zach's sake – to put us in the same school.
You see, the thing is, I might actually be able to let myself get a little excited if Zach wasn't so detailed in his explanation of the school… and by detailed I mean horrifying… and by school I mean resident assholes, Speed and Lash. Zach told me that if it wasn't for his friend Will, he would have spent every single lunch hour of his freshman year in a cramped locker. Of course at first I shrugged him off as being dramatic – which he is – until I watched the bullies' trial… yeah, pause for dramatic effect there, on television, a channel we were allowed to have because of being supers. Anyways, man were they intimidating. I'd have to say the chubby chunk of irony more so; on account of if he sat on me I'd die. Okay, quick u turn back to my family. When I was ten, I found every article I could on my real mother. She was a super villain named Mix whose powers were that she could make anything opposite – which sucks, because when Zach and I were born, we were automatically exact opposites in every way. He's tan, I'm pale; his hair is practically white, mine couldn't be blacker. His eyes are light blue, mine are dark green. He's healthy, I'm… well, not so much. All our foster parents tell us we're like magnets, opposites, but best friends – at least most of the time. I should tell you a bit more about my foster parents. My foster dad's name is Kelly, and his husband's name is Anna… just kidding, Anna is his wife. When we looked at the names of our next parents, we thought we were being adopted by a lesbian couple.
They decided that, being millionaires, they might as well adopt supers, because it's more expensive to educate and medicate them. My theory – pessimistic, like all good ones – is that they were hoping to adopt two kids with glamorous super powers who could become part of a new glamorous family that would do glamorous things together in their glamorous mansion, but instead they got me and Zach. And let me tell you, we are about as glamorous as faded green smocks. Back to the current dilemma; school. You see, going to school would mean me leaving this room, and let me tell you, I am about as ready to come out as an eighty year old Catholic man… not that eighty is too old to change one's sexuality, it's just that – especially in a religion like that – it would be a very awkward and uncomfortable thing to express – for everyone around – almost something worth procrastinating." I finish my sentence and take a deep breath, casually glancing at the response I'm getting from the new in house therapist Anna and Kelly hired for me – my last one had a bit of a meltdown. She is just about to open her mouth and spew out some confidence enhancing crap, I can tell, but is interrupted by a banging at the door.
"Jake, come on, we have to go!" Zach sounds like a six year old with bladder control issues when he's impatient, and little kids freak me out, so I'm leaving.
"Bye Mrs…" Crap, I already forgot her name.
"Mrs. Evans." Riiight; Mrs. Evans is giving me one of those tight lipped smiled that really shows off the cat's bum mouth she has from obvious perpetual smoking, which is my cue to leave. Nodding my head to make it seem like I am sorry for wasting her time, I quickly shut the door behind me and slid down the banister, knocking over Zach, who was waiting for me right on the bottom step – good place, I must say. He's standing there absentmindedly chewing on a bagel – obviously prepared by Sheldon, the chef. My stomach is grumbling, so I shove past him and walk into the dining room, sitting myself down on a stool that is facing the bar.
"Hey Jake, how's the new shrink?" It's so amusing talking to Sheldon, because his name makes me think of some scrawny kid with scotch tape on the bridge of his glasses, but he's actually a six and a half food tall ex convict who has more tattoos than that guy from Miami Ink. You know… the one with the girl name. Anyways, Sheldon is one of the most fun people to go in public with, because he is a certified genius, but people look at him like he's about to pull out a machine gun and hold up whichever store we happen to be in; and he knows me almost too well.
"No idea." I can tell by the knowing smirk on his face he knows exactly what went on.
"Let me guess, she asked you how you were, or to tell her a little about you and you ranted until Zach came and told you to leave."
"Yeah, pretty much." I see Sheldon's shoulders shaking as he walks back into the kitchen. He's the kind of guy that rarely laughs, but always chuckles; very easygoing; and I know exactly what he's going to bring out. Half a grapefruit in a bowl – sprinkled with sugar, 9 pills, and a mug of OJ. Sure enough, here he comes, the usual smirk plastered on his face, carrying a tray with the grapefruit, juice, and a small plate of pills. Nodding towards the pills is my way of asking why there are more than nine. I don't usually like to talk, unless I'm nervous, in which case I… well, you saw my therapist.
"The test results came back; you do have iron deficiency anemia and an underproductive thyroid." Damn. 13 pills in total for me to take; grimacing, I swallow them with a big gulp of juice, and start on my grapefruit. I love how long it took Zach to realize I had knocked into him, although he was obviously very engrossed in the bagel, something I couldn't have because of the countless things that were wrong with my body.
"Hey, why'd you hit me?" He sits down and nods his smiling face towards Sheldon quickly, saying hello, and then ditches the smile to look back at me. It's funny how we both use body language almost more than we use words. I give him the usual furrowed brow and shrug, telling him that it was obviously an accident, and he's dumb. He nods slowly, and Sheldon chuckles. We're so predictable it hurts. "So are you excited about coming to Sky High with me?" Raised eyebrow. "Oh come on, it won't be that bad." Eyebrow still up. "Hey, Speed and Lash are still in prison." He's trying so hard to sound convincing, so I give in and raise the other eyebrow too, earning a grin almost too big for his face. One aspect of our extreme opposite outward appearances I am happy about is that while Zach has acne and had to wear braces for three years, I have good skin and good teeth; although… I would trade both for good health, which he has to an extreme… the kid's never even had a cold. "Okay, so we really have to go now. Thanks for breakfast Sheldon." Zach is getting up to leave, so I quickly down my orange juice and put my empty dishes on the tray, automatically reaching out and grabbing the thermos of coffee Sheldon is holding out for me. Looking over at Zach, I see he is raising his left hand while digging through his bag with his right, and Sheldon drops our lunch money in his palm; I love routines. I grab my messenger bag, hilariously opposite to Zach's yellow backpack, and we head out towards the entryway.
"Bye boys, have fun at school!" Anna is waving glamorously from the second floor. You see, in the entryway there is a giant staircase that leads all the way up to the fifth floor, branching out at every stop. The first floor is your average living room, dining room, kitchen, bathroom, and laundry room. The second floor is Anna and Kelly's, the third floor is ours, the fourth floor is the guest floor, and the fifth floor is where the chef, maid, butler, gardener, chauffer and therapist live. I love the way the house is shaped, because you can slide down the banister right from the fifth floor to the main floor – although Sheldon said that I shouldn't be sliding that far down because my frail body would blah blah blah. Anyways, Kelly said that if we get another floor added on, we'll get an elevator… the mall here doesn't even have an elevator. Zach is dragging me across the walkway, muttering something about how the bus only waits for Will Stronghold. One nice thing about having a big property is that there is a bus stop right beside the gate leading into the driveway, so we don't have to run to catch it… which is good, because I have asthma. Of course, being the worry wart he is, Zach is making me practically jog down the driveway, even though the bus isn't even here yet. I walk right past Zach as he closes the gate – we always fight over who gets to press all the buttons, because we're just that mature – and the bus is just pulling up. Of course this means that now I have to make my decision. Do I act like I've done this all before, do I sit by myself and pray no freaks sit beside me, or do I sit with Zach and meet all his friends? Well, being the brace, bold, daring, adventurous guy I am, I think I'll… sit with Zach. Luckily for me, Zach is sitting in an empty seat, so I can sit down next to him. Even hearing his friends and their excited chatter gives me migraines… so, I've never actually seen them – other than Will on various talk shows with his parents telling the world about villains, the newest trio, and spandex… all that important stuff – but anyways, that's only because I lock myself in the other room whenever they come over.
"Woahh…" Will and his posse are staring at me like I'm wearing a bikini – which I most certainly am not – but I'm used to it; me and Zach don't tell our friends we have an opposite but otherwise exact replica of ourselves… no one should have to ask why.
"Guys, this is my brother Jake." I attempt to smile at them, but I just can't, and it comes out as a sort of grimace. Besides, the hippy girl is smiling enough for both of us. I'm surprised her lips aren't splitting in half. Speaking of which, I should put on my lip chap. It's frustrating that whenever anyone meets us for the first time, it's always silence followed by the same obvious questions. Wait for it, three, two…
"Were you guys born like that?" This one is coming from the scary purple kid who thinks she's goth. I think she's the one Zach 'went out with.' And by that I mean danced with her once at homecoming and bragged about it for weeks afterwards.
"What was you're mother's power?" Of course Will is the one to ask about parents and powers.
"Zach, did you dye your hair?" Okay, this one I haven't heard. But then again, I've never seen someone wear bright orange from head to toe.
"That's weird." So is your hair man, what are you, thirty?
Last but not least… "Is it fun being an opposite?" Of course the hippy asks this one.
I figure I might as well say something, so as to avoid annoying rumors. "Yes, one guess, no, I know, and sometimes." Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, as Zach is now glaring at me with all his might. "You're burning a hole in my face." He rolls his eyes, and I can tell he's about to come up with some lame excuse for why his brother is so incredibly unfriendly. But hey, I don't make friends – that's what therapists are for.
"Don't mind Jake." Wow, that was probably the worst excuse he's ever come up with, although it isn't really an excuse at all. Zach is holding out a piece of chewing gum to me, and the way his head is slanted forward I can tell he expects me to eat it right now. Zach responds before I can even raise my eyebrow all the way. "Trust me." He jerks his head to the window, and I can see now that we're headed for… nowhere. Oh man; we're going to die. Quickly popping the gum in my mouth, I start chewing like mad before my ears start to pop, earning a few odd stares from Zach's friends. Someone should inform them that before they stare oddly at anyone, they should take a look at themselves. They're like the freaking poster kids for stereotypes. We have the all American momma's boy; vegetarian since birth, wannabe goth, biker who doesn't actually bike, and smart preppy kid whose mother buys him the exact same clothes in different colors. Zach fits in perfectly with them. A chuckle escapes my lips, but is cut short – I think my insides just fell. Feeling a little brave, I glance out the window… and I thought I was freaked out before. Well, before I wasn't ten thousand feet in the air! I quickly put my head in between my knees, just like my doctor told me to. While Zach is stiff and quite awkward with his movements – especially when he dances, I am flexible, which comes in handy in situations like this. My breathing starts to delay and I feel a panic attack coming on. Crap; luckily when I look up Zach's holding out my inhaler. Grabbing it, I take a few deep breaths and move my head back down. I can hear Zach vaguely explaining my medical and mental issues to his friends, but I couldn't really any care less right now. Once the bus driver starts explaining to 'you freshmen' at the front of the bus about the school, I dare to raise my head and look out the window again. Okay, so now if the engine fails, instead of plummeting down to our doom in an abyss that is the air above the Metropolis of Maxville, we would simply fall a few feet and land on the school, although with my luck, I'd still somehow end up in a coma. I straighten up and look around me, realizing with much relief that I wasn't the only one freaking out. The freshies in the front have that wide eyed, wide mouthed look on their faces as they scream to each other about 'oh my gawd, how totally effing scary was that!'
"Is he okay?" The high pitched voice snaps me back to reality and I see that Zach is holding out the inhaler once again. I take it and get a few more breaths of air before reassuring the overly concerned motherly teenagers that yes, I am fine and yes, that does happen to me all the time. Thankfully, the hippy doesn't speak again until we are inside the school. "So Jake, we'll take you to power placement – I have to warn you, Boomer is really hard on all the new kids, but just show him your power and be really sweet about it and he won't be any trouble. Unless you don't believe in slightly gender favoring fascist stereotypes, in which case you can just tell him you won't participate." The hopefulness is dripping from her voice, almost enough to guilt me into not participating. But that would require drawing even more attention to myself, something just below 'die' on the list of things I would like to do. Will is taking over the explanation of power placement, but he doesn't get very far.