After streaking for a bit, I finally got to the alley I was looking for.

But, with my luck, of course there had to be a catch.

There were two people I recognized. A bully from my school, one of the football players and one of the nerdy guys from my school, complete with the dorky glasses and scrawny physique.

The bully, Thomas Heller, was threatening the nerd, Jerry Jacobs. Thomas was slamming his fist into his palm, emphasizing what would happen if Jerry didn't listen to him.

Thomas wasn't the smartest but he wasn't brain dead, either. He knew enough to negotiate with his victim.

I was standing on a fire escape, looking down at the two. I sighed, knowing I'd have to break it up before anything bad happened. They'd recognize me if they saw my face—which was exactly what I would have to do. I'd need to use the alleyway to my advantage while using my pyroism to scare them off.

I glanced at a few of the motion lights hanging from the balconies. I glanced down, making sure they were still unaware of my presence, before feeling a ball of fire flicker in my hand. I narrowed my eyes at the lights and let the fireballs fly from my hand.

They hit the lights and in a shatter of glass and an explosion of sparks, the alley was suddenly pitch-black besides the glow of the moon.

I jumped from the fire escape, landing on my ankle awkwardly. I winced but ignored the pain, grabbing a tuff of hair that I hoped was Thomas and not Jerry. I snapped my fingers and let fire explode across my skin and snarled, "What the hell do you think you're doing, Heller?"

Thomas gulped. "I—"

"No. You don't know what you're doing because you don't think," I snarled at him. Thomas' eyes were wider than I'd ever seen them. He looked scared shitless.

"I-I'm sorry," Thomas stuttered, trying to pull away from me. "I won't do it again."

"Yeah. You won't," I snapped. I let go of Thomas and watched him scramble away in the glow of the fire, glancing back fretfully. I smiled smugly, turning to notice Jerry staring at me.

"Are you," Jerry straightened his glasses, "naked?"

I looked down and looked back up. "Seems like it."

I snapped my fingers; leaving us in darkness as I grabbed my clothes from a garbage bin I'd stuffed them in. I struggled to fit them on and once my lower half was covered, I snapped my fingers again.

Jerry watched me closely. "That's a really high-tech lighter."

"Uh, yeah, I guess," I said, wadding up my shirt.

Jerry sighed. "That's not a lighter, is it?"

I froze. "Um, what?"

Jerry took a step forward. "That isn't a lighter."

It wasn't a question anymore. It was a statement, like he'd just figured it out.

My nervous laugh was suddenly too loud. The echo of my laugh seemed like it was bouncing around in a tunnel, echoing each time it hit a surface, replaying the fake laugh over and over and over again.

"What are you talking about?" I asked Jerry in between gasps for breath and I hysterically laughed. "That's ridiculous!"

Jerry narrowed his brown eyes, readjusting his glasses before his eyes widened in horror. "Your hand is on fire!"

I glanced at my hand and watched the flames lick up my fingers. "What do you know," I murmured, before I started screaming and waving my hand around, trying to act as if the fire actually hurt and that my panic wasn't just for show.

I honestly wasn't expecting Jerry to faint but he did. I'm a much better actor than I expected.

He hit the asphalt with a thud and I sighed, snapping my fire out and grabbing him by his shirt. I considered leaving him in the alley, but my good heroic self decided that wasn't the best idea. I mean, this scrawny little guy could barely walk through the boys' locker room without getting pantsed. How would he survive in the cutthroat alleys of Manhattan?

I threw the kid over my shoulder and marched away from the alley.

The walk wasn't very far until Jerry came to and tried to kick me.

"Put me down!" He screamed, his feet pummeling my chest as his hands slapped against my back. "Let me go, you freak!"

"Says the kid who knows Elfish," I snarled under my breath, trying to put him down gently. He swung around as I placed him on the ground, his fist hitting me in the jaw. Jerry howled in pain as he grabbed his wrist.

I rolled my eyes as he kissed his knuckles.

Jerry stepped away from me. "You're some kind of freak!" He snapped, glaring at me.

I laughed airily. "Really? Because if that freak hadn't been in that alley, you'd be getting your ass kicked right about now."

Jerry seemed to consider what I had said as he rubbed his knuckles before letting his arm fall to his side. "You're right," Jerry said. "I'm sorry for calling you a freak."

I shrugged. "I've heard it plenty of times." Yeah, I have, because Jerry said the word 'freak' like five times until it was drilled into my skull.

Jerry stared at my fists. "Can you do that fire thing again?"

I willed my fist to burst into flame.

Jerry stared at my hand in wonderment, his glasses reflecting the flames as they licked past my fingers, curling up into smoke.

"That's so cool," Jerry whispered. "Does it hurt?"

I shook my head. "Nah, I was kidding you. The flames don't hurt at all."

Jerry held out a tentative hand, as if to touch my flames. I furrowed my brow, closing my hand in a fist and cutting of the fires' oxygen. "Whatare you trying to do? Burn yourself?" I asked, letting my arm fall to my side.

Jerry shrugged, straightening his glasses again. "You're from my school, aren't you?" He asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. I've seen you get crammed into lockers. I thought that only happened in movies."

He wrinkled his nose before sighing. "Well, thanks, anyways."

I shrugged, smirking. "All in a day's work."

Jerry stared at me. "I-I gotta go," He stuttered, turning on his heel and taking off in the other direction.

My eyes widened. "Jerry!" I shouted after him but he was gone.

I felt a vibrate in my jean pocket. I fumbled until I had my phone in my hands and was staring at the unknown number that was calling.

I answered it.

What? Sue me, I was curious.

"Andrew," an even voice mocked, "Are you okay?"

My jaw tightened and I remembered something I wish I hadn't.

I sat on the wax paper of the top of the uncomfortable cushion seat. The room smelt like disinfectant and rubber gloves. The walls were stark white; the tables were navy blue; the door dark mahogany.

My father—my real father—walked in and gave me a smile but something was wrong. His face was shadowed heavily but I could see concern gleam in his eyes, his mouth twitch.

He sat down in a plastic chair as he clamped a hand on my knee.

"Everything's fine, bud," He told me. "The doctors are gonna fix you up."

"There's nothing wrong with me, Dad," I told him.

He gave me an obviously fake smile as the door was thrown open.

Dad turned to look out the door when his smile faded. He stood immediately, glaring into the shadow of the hallway. "What are you doing here?" He growled.

I sat up a little straighter to try to peek over his head.

There was a chuckle. "You honestly thought we wouldn't find you, James?"

Dad flinched. "I quit."

"You can't get rid of us that easily," The voice said.

The owner of the voice stepped forward. I couldn't make out any details except for the blue lights pulsing from the man's blaster.

Dad edged away, keeping himself in front of me. I knew what he was doing. There was a gun in the drawer, in the wall compartment, in the top cabinet. If he could grab one …

"Aw, is this your son?"

Dad stiffened.

"He looks just like you, James," The voice said. "Except for the eyes."

I glanced quizzically at my father. We had the same eyes. What was this guy talking about?

I watched Dad's eyes glint in the shadows. They weren't blue, anymore. They were a vibrant neon orange, streaked with red and yellow and gold.

Dad looked at me. "Andrew," He said. "Close your eyes."

I did. There was a flash of fireworks behind my eyelids.

There was some screaming, the scent of smoke and burnt flesh and a puff of air.

Dad shook me. "Andrew," He started, "Are you okay?"

I almost threw the phone into the concrete.

"I wouldn't if I were you," The voice on the phone chided.

I fumed, erupting into flames in the dark street. "What the hell do you want?" I snarled into the phone.

"For you to cool down," The voice said and that was what happened.

I froze. The flames still licked up my body but I couldn't move.

"Good. Good," The voice said. "Now, Andrew, are you looking for trouble?"

"No," I murmured, finding it hard to move my lips.

"Really? Because it seems like you are," The voice continued. "You've been acting very heroic lately. Honestly, you can't pull off heroism. I'd stop if I were you. Wouldn't want someone to get hurt, now would we?"

"Listen to me, you—" I started, my words slurring together.

"Sorry, Andrew, can't. I gotta fly," The voice said, "but, when the freeze thaws, how about you hang up your Superman costume? I don't think it's going to last very long."

With that, the call was over and so was my invisible superhero career.

Woo!

Pretty intense, eh?

I normally have a lot of stuff to tell you guys right after I post the chapters, so I'm going to try to remember what's been happening in my life.

Well, I took the practice writing NESA. The prompt was unbelievably stupid but I think I did rather well.

I can already tell this year is going to be a very emotional one because I've been fangirling since Day 1.

I've realized I hate everyone in my school except for about ten people.

I have this awesome leather journal that I've basically refused to write in because it's too perfect to ruin with little screw-ups.

I finally found a crew of people in my school I actually like.

I've had gym for like two weeks and I already hate it because I'm uncoordinated. This kid I know was all like "Oh I see why you don't play any sports" and I was like, "Dude I will kill you in a story shut your face"

We're not doing Greek Mythology this year in school and are switching it with descriptive writing. I honestly don't know what I should feel about that.

I wish all of the fandoms I'm a part of just decided "Hey let's make a school for fangirling" and put us all into class by what we fangirl for so I would meet people I can actually stand.

Yeah, that's my life in a nutshell.

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