Jon sat on the living room sofa, his blue eyes wide and focused but not really watching the ABC After School Special on the television screen. His mind was replaying the scene of Stryker just after Jon had asked about Russians.
Stryker narrowed his eyes. He studied Jon. Jon felt his palms get sweaty from the sheer nervousness of confronting his principal about Russians. It was a serious matter, Russians.
"Ah," Stryker nodded, as if the whole reply was bundled in that knowing tone. To Jon's surprise the man had more to say, "I know very much about Russian heroes, just as I know very much about Russian villains, do you know why?"
Jon obviously knew the answer but wasn't so bold to accuse Stryker of being a Russian. So Jon merely shook his head, feigning ignorance.
"I know because it is my job to know. It is not YOUR job to know Mr. Boy. Now I suggest you return to class and behave yourself."
Jon happily took Stryker's suggestion and was out of the door as fast as he reflexes would carry him
Still, even after so many hours later, Jon knew that the principal had a Russian accent; no one else knew or could pick up as it was so masterfully hidden to the average ear. He couldn't do anything about it though—why would any adults believe him?
He pulled out his homework on historic sidekick figures. He had missed the latter part of the lecture because of going to the front office. He had to start a research paper on a historical sidekick figure, but had no idea where to start since Mr. Bitters—Mr. Biters knows something! Jon lost his trail of thought, remembering how his teacher had winked at him after sending him to the principal's office. Mr. Bitters had sent him to the Principal because Jon was the only one who's hearing was quick enough to detect the hidden accent. Or at least, that was theory Jon came up with in his head.
He flipped through his textbook for any idea on who do a research paper on. He was not going to research anyone cliché like Dick Grayson or Bucky Barnes of the Captain America fame. No, he was going to find a sidekick figure that was truly inspiring.
He went to his mother's library of everything super, which included comics about super people, newspaper clippings and top-secret directories of the P.O.W.E.R Coalition members. It appeared to be a walk-in closet but there was a trap door behind the main door that opened down into a den. The den held shelves of all his mother's personal books, and her Silver Tongue mask and suit. The one he was staring at was in a case and it was retired, she had outgrown it after giving birth to him. Her current suit was hidden at the flower shop since that was where she was when she was needed.
Jon pulled out a random golden age Captain America comic in his mother's collection. He rolled his eyes, thinking of the over-praised 'Bucky' sidekick. Superheroes, villains, and sidekicks in comics weren't real. They were all based off of real super people though.
Almost every super person knew that Captain America was based off of Captain Steven Roberts, a WWII naval officer who fought for America and destroyed many enemy ships using his optimal, serum-induced-human-powers. Jon ended up getting sucked into his mother's Captain America comics the rest of the evening without finding a successful figure to write his research paper on.
"Jonny?" he jumped a little and looked up to see his mother peeking her head through the trap door. He smiled and continued reading. "What are you doing in my secret lair?"
He laughed lightly, "Sidekicks don't have secret lairs, more like hidden closets."
"Do you want to eat dinner? I made lasagna."
Jon felt his stomach rumble and nodded, closing the comic book and finding its place back on the shelf.
He climbed out of the den and into the walk in closet, "Did you know that Captain America ditched Bucky for a sidekick called 'Golden Girl?'"
His mother paused in the threshold and turned to face him with a smile, "Yes, I knew that. Her name was Betsy Ross and she fell in love with the Captain's alter ego—they got married."
"You mean a hero married a sidekick?" Jon was amazed.
"Love was love, my baby boy," she threw an arm around his shoulders with motherly love. He cringed at her cutesy nickname for him—which he had outgrown by ten years at least. Her brow furrowed ever so slightly though when she added, "Such unions were not frowned upon back then." She steered him to the kitchen, where his father was already chowing down and the mixed lasagna smells of cheese, meat, and tomato wrapped around them. Still, her words stuck into his head. Love was love—and he loved Josie Del Marco. Maybe that was the glimmer of hope he had of them ever being together, that is, if she ever noticed him.
Everything was back to normal by Wednesday. No one was demanding answers for their sleepless weekend or tortuous nightmares. High school students, even ones with superpowers seemed to just want to continue forward with life. He sat in the library with about three books and a blank notebook—still having not found a historic sidekick to write about. He looked at the paper with the requirements on it
—A historic sidekick figure real or fictitious may be chosen as the topic of your research. The paper must be five pages in length minimum.
Jon inwardly groaned whenever he read the length requirement. It was good the paper wasn't due for a few weeks. The rest of the information he had bulleted and underlined in pen. The library was so quiet except for the few students mulling around the narrow shelves. His whole sidekick class was supposed to be in the library studying. Bitters stayed at his desk in the classroom—leaving Miss Dewey, the librarian, in charge of the students.
Medulla took a seat next to Jon with his own pile of books—he looked glum.
"Why so down?" Jon wondered, resting his head in his hand while propping it up with his elbow on the tabletop.
"Mr. Bitters won't let me pick Chewbacca as a sidekick figure—he isn't 'historical' enough."
Jon bit his lip in order not to laugh, "You mean the 'walking carpet' from Star Wars?"
Medulla grinned at Jon's ability to quote, "He's a very interesting sidekick. I know he's fictitious and alien but man, that movie was awesome—Chewbacca is awesome!"
"Shhh!" Miss Dewey hissed, pressing her finger to her lips. Jon wasn't surprised Medulla loved the Star Wars movie—most every guy did—but he was surprised Medulla respected Chewbacca. A super genius respecting a wookie—weird.
Medulla flipped open one of his books and pointed to an illustration of a man transforming.
"Who is that? The Incredible Hulk?"
"It's Dr. Jekyll turning into Mr. Hyde," Medulla set the book down but kept it open at that page.
"How does any of that relate to the assignment?"
"You don't have to be partnered with a hero to be a sidekick. This character is of historic significance because it shows dual personalities. Dr. Jekyll is an ordinary man but creates a serum that transforms him into his darker side—Mr. Hyde."
Jon still didn't understand Medulla's point and shook his head.
"I can argue that Hyde is Jekyll's sidekick and then when Hyde overpowers Jekyll—Jekyll becomes the sidekick. This man is his own sidekick technically because you can't think of 'Jekyll' without 'Hyde'."
Jon slumped down in his chair, wishing that he were clever enough to come up with an argument like that. Medulla was going to have rad time writing his paper and researching split personalities. He let out a heavy sigh and continued flipping through the books he had picked out—searching for a sidekick.
Soon, Jimmy Bozaboil, the space heater, joined them—Jimmy didn't have any books. Jimmy was a slack student, and never did any of the readings.
"So what'd you guys find so far?"
"Nothing," Jon mumbled, hoping his tone was low enough for Miss Dewey.
"Lots," Medulla chirped with the right amount of glee expected.
Jimmy frowned slightly—disappointed he couldn't use any of their information to an academic advantage. He tapped his fingers on the table and looked around. Jon stared at the pages of a book that he did not comprehend. Medulla bobbed his large head back and forth to a happy tune—probably 'My Sharona' which was on the radio all the time—and he realized Jimmy was tapping the beat on the table.
Crap, now it's stuck in my head! The beat replayed in his head as Jimmy kept time with his finger tapping. Dada Dada-da. da. Dada Dada-da. da. Dada Dada-da. da. My Sharona! The most annoying part was that was all the lyrics he knew.
He made a frustrated noise after a few minutes and left the table.
"Are you done with your books?" Miss Dewey questioned as he set his books onto the extension of her desk.
"Yeah, sure."
She flicked each of them on the spine and they vanished from the desk, but reappeared in their rightful place on the shelves. He wasn't sure about the extent of Miss Dewey's powers but figured she would have been doing hero work if she could make everything do that.
Jon walked back to the classroom. The halls were remotely empty. He passed a few cutters who stood around at their lockers. The students that skipped class were mostly ones with powers other people didn't want to mess with.
He masterfully avoided eye contact with them, but they were not the type to let a sidekick walk by without a small amount of hassle.
He felt the back of his shirt being yanked, and to his dismay, stumbled backwards into the middle of their group.
"Why are you out here?"
"Jeez, I'm just going back to my class from the library," he frowned—already in a sour mood. Dada Dada-da. da. Dada Dada-da. —"Shut up!" he was yelling to stop that stupid Sharona song from repeating in his head and he meant to do it silently.
The class-cutters raised their brows at his outburst.
"Excuse me?" a girl with too much makeup balked, then glowered, "You shouldn't talk like that to us."
"Sorry—" But I'm really not, "Look, I have to go."
He made an attempt to flee but the worst possible person teleported right next to them with his arms full of junk food from the vending machine. Upon seeing, Jon, Portman shoved his goods into one of his buddy's arms and pushed Jon.
"What the hell are you doing here, you smack?"
"Leaving," Jon replied before turning around.
"He told us to shut up when we asked him," the girl mentioned in a whiny voice, trying to egg Portman into a fight.
Portman glanced at Jon with a look of disgust. Jon was a few feet away when with a 'poof' Portman teleported right in front of him. Jon stumbled backwards in surprise but Portman caught him by the front of his shirt and punched him in the side of the face. It stung, and Jon quickly held his hand up to shield any more blows but Portman then switched to punching him in the gut—something his reflexes didn't expect. Portman gave a laugh, as Jon doubled over. Why are they doing this to me? He curled into a ball as he lay in the hallway, the other class-cutting heroes joined Portman in kicking Jon while he was down. It wasn't a fair fight, and it wasn't a just fight. How could they even consider themselves heroes?
"Hey! Stop!" they heard a voice call from down the hallway.
Jon scrunched open his eyes and saw Shaun Wilson, student body president approaching hastily. Before Portman realized it, the student body president had him in a fast grip. "Why are you beating on this kid, Jason?"
Portman chortled and easily teleported out of Shaun's grasp, and closer to his group, "Why not?"
Shaun narrowed his eyes and helped Jon stand. Jon's sides were in pain, he held them but still his face stung—his lip was bleeding.
"If you guys don't get back to class, I'll report you to Cardiano," Shaun threatened.
"'Cause your such a narc like that."
They laughed as they sauntered off, but Portman threw a 'cutthroat' gesture at Jon before he turned his back on them.
"Are you okay?" Shaun asked, but saw the sorry state of the freshman sidekick, "Maybe you should go see Spex."
Jon nodded gingerly and mumbled, "Thanks."
Nurse Spex gasped when he entered her office, "Oh dearie, your lip is bleeding!"
Jon nodded and collapsed to sit on the medical table. He felt a huge lump of mixed emotions in his throat—anger, sadness, pain—at the so-called 'heroes' who had beaten him.
The lady grabbed a small washcloth, dampened it with warm water, and handed it to him. "Here, dearie, put that on your lip. What happened to you?" She took a step back and used her x-ray vision to search him for broken bones.
"I got beat up," he said and winced at the stinging of his busted lip.
"Where?"
"The hallway that goes to the library."
She shook her head with a concerned frown, "Horrible bullies! Why would they want to harm such a handsome young man like you?"
He felt a tinge of warmth at her comment but still glared at nothing, "Because I'm a sidekick, why else?"
She became quiet, obviously aware that sidekicks were the victims of hero scorn. Instead of saying anything comforting, she gave him a complementary lollypop sucker. The cherry flavor would not heal him, or the problems within the school.