"Calm down, kid," one officer said. "We just want to talk."

"You can't put me in jail," Peter said quickly. "I didn't do anything wrong. Besides, you've got to be eighteen to go to jail."

"No one said anything about jail," another officer said. "We just want to find out how you were able to take down all those kids by yourself."

"I ran really super fast and punched them, and they all got hurt," Peter said. "Just like what I told the school."

"Are you really telling us the truth?" the first officer asked.

"Yes!" Peter shouted, indignant. Why did everyone seem to have such difficulty to believe his story?

The police officers all exchanged a look.

"Could you demonstrate this . . . super speed for us?"

Peter paused, looking first at his mom then at the officers. He got up, paused, then ran around the room once. Now the officers were laughing.

"Nice speed, kid. I think you clocked in at about four miles an hour."

Peter frowned. "It was real. They all got broken bones."

"And you're certain you weren't carrying any weapons?"

Peter thought for a moment, remembering what his mom had said. "There's no way I would've been able to inflict so much damage with either a knife or a gun."

The first officer sighed, then made a move to get up. "All right. Just stay out of trouble, okay, kid? Because if this happens again, we might have to take harsher measures against you. Heck, if you're over eighteen, we just might put you in jail. Got it?"

Peter nodded. The officers left, and only after they were gone did Peter realize that he'd been holding his breath. He sighed. "Why couldn't I do it, mom?"

"You won't be able to use your powers on command for a little while yet. I'm not a mutant, so I can't help you there, but I do remember Lehn telling me all about it."

"So I need to find my dad?" Peter asked, already excited. "Could he help—"

"No, Peter," she said, and Peter had never heard her so adamant before. "Your dad's a bad guy. I don't want you near him. Understand?"

Peter shrugged, and nodded. Well, maybe after his powers came around for real, then he could go looking for his dad.

After the cops had left, Peter stayed mostly in his bedroom. He sulked a bit, quietly singing to himself to pass the time since his music wasn't an option for a few days yet. She was probably right, though. About grounding him. Moms always were. But it was still unfair. Those bullies would've massacred him! He was just paying them back for everything they'd done! Why was he in trouble for that? Why hadn't the school board believed him? Why hadn't the police officers believed him? He was telling the truth!

"Hey, Peter?"

Peter sat up, glancing over at his mom. A quiver of excitement ran through him when he saw that his mother held his music player, and he grinned at her without showing his teeth. "Yeah?"

"I think you've been punished enough," she said, tossing him his precious music. "I'm going to the grocery store. Want to come?"

Peter licked his lips. Twinkies. Pizza. Soda. All manner of unhealthy eatables. Of course he wanted to come. Peter nodded, then put his headphones on and closed his eyes in bliss. Music. Food. These were the things that made life grand.

Ten minutes later they were at the grocery store, and Peter raced through the store twice, pointing at different foods that he wanted his mother to buy. She bought none of them, and when they were at the checkout line, Peter saw his most favorite snack in the whole world. Twinkies. He tugged on his mom's sleeve so hard that he almost tore it. "Please, mom? Please, could you buy me just one box?"

She shook her head. "We need to save money for more important stuff, Peter."

Peter frowned. Twinkies were important! "Please, mom! Please, please, please."

"No."

"Come on, mom! Just buy some! Just one box. One box. Not two. Not three. One."

"No, Peter."

"Please! Please, mom! Come on."

"Peter, I said no!"

Peter recoiled at his mom's harsh tone. Then he sulked. Fine. No Twinkies. He glanced again at his favorite snack as they left the store with their purchases, and the snack was still on his mind as they drove home. Peter said nothing to his mother. Maybe if he gave her the silent treatment, she'd relent. Nope. That never worked with her.

Still pouting, Peter spent the rest of the day in his bedroom before getting an idea. If he really was able to run super fast, then it stood to reason that he should be able to run into the store, get some Twinkies himself, and leave without getting caught. They were only a few dollars, anyway. It wasn't that bad. His dad had probably done a lot worse. Besides, he really wanted those Twinkies.

Resolute in his decision, Peter glanced at the clock and saw that it was exactly eleven at night. He sneaked upstairs, saw his mom sitting in the living room with the remote in her hand, then edged past her and out the front door. He'd be back in probably twenty minutes. Hopefully his mother didn't need him for anything.

Faster than Peter would've expected, he arrived at the grocery store. It was open twenty-four, seven, so he simply walked into the store, wondering how fast he'd have to run to get away from the alarms that would go off once he exited the building. It was strange, though. There didn't seem to any of the normal music over the store's speaker system or the mindless chatter inside the store itself that he was used to. Maybe people were just being quiet because it was so late.

Seeing the Twinkies in isle four, Peter raced down the isle and grabbed a box. He paused, however, when he saw that a woman was reaching for the very box that he'd picked up. She was frozen. Blinking, Peter ran around the entire perimeter of the store and saw that everyone in the building was frozen. Weird. Was there some sort of contest going on, that whoever could stay still the longest won something? Well, no matter. He was still getting his Twinkies.

Peter wasn't done yet, though. He raced around the store again, laughing at everyone's facial expressions. They were doing pretty good; he couldn't even see them moving. Now wanting to have a bit of fun, Peter reached out to touch a young woman on the side of the face then decided against it. He didn't want to get in trouble again or hurt anyone. Instead, he picked up a cantaloupe and began playing soccer with it. He played basketball with a patron's shopping cart and a dozen tomatoes. He unclipped the nametag of the checkout lady and clipped it on the shirt of someone else in the store. He tied a man's shoelaces together. He raced over to the frozen section of the store and consumed an entire gallon of chocolate ice cream while he watched the frozen people remain in their positions. Wow, they were good.

Well, he'd gotten what he'd wanted. Time to leave. Picking up his box of Twinkies and a bottle of soda for the trip home, Peter left the grocery store and sneaked back into his house and down to his bedroom. He glanced at the clock and was confused when it still seemed to be eleven at night. Whatever. His clock was probably broken, anyway.

Tossing his empty soda bottle into the trash, Peter opened his box of Twinkies and happily devoured his entire stash, grinning to himself before lying down and closing his eyes. Now he felt much better.