Hardly had he closed his eyes, however, when he felt a hand on his arm pull him up from dreamland. Peter groaned and opened his eyes to see his mother staring down at him, furious. "What'd I do?" Peter asked, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

"You know very well what you did," she huffed, dragging him up the stairs. Peter was still confused when his mother sat him down in the living room in front of the television, and he watched the screen in uncertainty.

"People everywhere are unable to believe what happened yesterday on the corner of seventh and Fardale. At exactly eleven o'clock last night, someone walked into the grocery store, damaged several goods, and consumed an entire gallon of ice cream before leaving the store with nothing more than a reportedly missing bottle of soda and a package of Twinkies. Over fifty witnesses were in the store at the time, but they report nothing, though one man states that his shoelaces had been tied while the thief was in the store while Anne, the checkout lady, said that somehow her nametag ended up halfway across the store on the chest of a completely different person. The country is baffled. If anyone has any knowledge of this thief and how he was able to pull off this stunt, please call the police station with any information you might have."

Peter turned back to his mother, swallowing when he saw that she had his empty Twinkie box in her hands. She threw it in his face, then inhaled once. He was in trouble now.

"You stole those Twinkies? Peter, stealing is a crime! What if you'd hurt someone like you did with those bullies?"

"I didn't touch anyone!" Peter said. "No one was hurt!"

"Just because you have the power of super speed, doesn't give you the right to break the law," his mother said.

"You wouldn't buy them for me! I begged you!"

"And so stealing them was your only other option?"

"Mom, I—"

Peter's mother turned away from him. She threw her hands into the air. "At this rate, you'll turn out just like your father."

Peter recoiled at his mother's words. He looked up to his father; how dare she say that! "So that's a bad thing?" he asked bitterly.

"Yes, Peter," she said. "It's a very bad thing."

"So it's bad to be different like me and Dad?" Peter asked, watching his mother's reaction closely.

"It's bad to be a villain, Peter," his mom said.

"You make it seem like you'd like it better if I was normal," Peter said, clenching his fists.

"You're a mutant, Peter! I would!" Then she clapped a hand over her mouth.

But it was too late. Peter's eyes widened in shock and hurt. "Mutant? So there's a name for people like me to make sure that everyone knows that we're different?!"

"Peter," his mother said gently, "I didn't mean that."

"But you said it!" Peter yelled, his fists now trembling. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I can't change the fact that I'm a freak, okay?! Looks like you're going to have to deal with your crazy mutant son!"

"I didn't call you a freak," his mother said. "I just said that you shouldn't steal."

"That's practically what you said!" Peter said. "So what if I'm like my father? What if I want to be?! We're both mutants, you know. I can't be normal like you want, so I guess my only other option is to become just like someone you hate!"

"Peter, I—"

Peter couldn't take his mother's lecture anymore. In an instant, his mother froze, and Peter realized that he was now moving at super speed. Sticking his tongue out at his mother, Peter left the room and raced out of the house, passing cars on the streets and people walking by that were frozen just as his mother was. Peter ran and ran, blaming his stinging eyes on the wind that raced by him as he continued on. Finally, after probably a second or two, Peter became tired of running and decided to return to the house. He would admit that stealing was wrong, but his mother had been out of line when he'd practically called him a freak. What he really wanted was her apology. So, sighing once, Peter turned around and made his way home. On the way back, Peter passed a biker with a pair of goggles on, and being very careful not to hurt the biker, Peter took the biker's goggles, placed them over his eyes, and continued back. He took his seat back on the couch and waited for his mother to continue moving at normal speed. She looked at him then blinked when she saw the goggles on his head. She smiled sadly and sighed.

"I like being a mutant. It's better than being boring," Peter said, adjusting the goggles to his forehead.

"There's nothing wrong with being a mutant, Peter. I'm sorry I said that. Just . . . don't steal too much, all right? And please don't become bad and start hurting people."

Peter nodded. "Deal. So, what do you feel like eating? Chinese? Italian?"

His mother shrugged. "Mexican food, I guess."

"Great. I'll get some."

"Pet—"

But Peter was already gone. Traveling three hundred miles away, Peter slipped into an authentic Mexican restaurant and took several burritos and a few tacos before returning to home. "Here you go."

Magda glanced at the food on the table, then frowned. "Take that back, Peter. I want you to pay for it."

"Those restaurants throw so much food away, anyway, Mom," Peter said, already starting to eat a burrito.

"Peter, please."

Peter shrugged. "Okay." In a second, he'd raced back to the Mexican restaurant with the food in hand, returning all the food except for the single burrito that he kept for himself. There were at least a dozen burritos in the garbage, anyway. A single one wouldn't make much difference. He ate it on the way back, then zipped into the house and sat at the kitchen table. "Done."

"Thank you," she said.

"No problem," Peter said. Hungry again, Peter raced to the fridge and made himself four sandwiches, fried up a pound of bacon, and consumed an entire box of fudge pops by the time his mother blinked.

"I think I need to buy more food," she said, laughing a bit when she looked and saw the mess.

"No, I'm full," Peter said.

"Well, could you please clean up?"

Peter shrugged, then cleaned up the mess in half a second. Then, putting his goggles over his eyes and putting his headphones on, Peter raced to the door. "I'll be back in a few hours."

"Stay out of trouble," his mom said. "Be home by six."

"I gotta eat dinner, don't I?"

Before his mother could even open her mouth, Peter was gone. He raced down the freeway, casually dodging cars in manners that would cause his mother to faint if she could see him. But he was a mutant. A speedster. It was hard to believe that only a week ago he'd been a normal boy. Now he could run at some infinity miles an hour and probably even dodge bullets. Not that he would ever try that out. At least not with his mom present.

Turning off the freeway, Peter raced into the forest, laughing a bit at the frozen animals in the middle of their daily activities. Peter, feeling hungry again, was just about to consider getting something to eat when a nearby noise caused him to pause. In an instant, he looked in the distance and saw billowing smoke. Slightly worried, Peter rushed to the scene to find a man and his wife standing outside a house. Firefighters stood all around, and Peter, seeing that the structure was starting to collapse, couldn't help grinning a bit. Oh, boy! A challenge!

Cracking his knuckles, Peter put his headphones on, donned a firefighter's coat for good measure, and sped into the building, rushing through the halls in an attempt to find anyone still in the building. Going downstairs first, Peter saw a teenage girl running up the stairs with a small dog in her hands, and he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her with him and setting her down outside before running back into the house. On the top level of the house he found another teenage girl, slightly older than the one before, clutching one leg. No wonder she couldn't get out of the house. Not with that broken leg. Putting the girl's arm over his shoulder Peter proceeded to leave the bedroom when something strange happened.

Suddenly, Peter was able to hear, in addition to his music, screaming and sirens outside. He blinked, confused, then began coughing as smoke filled his lungs. The teenager he was carrying suddenly became very heavy, and Peter was down in an instant. What was going on?!

A support beam fell toward them, and right before Peter and the teenage girl beside him were caught underneath the beam, time stopped again. Instantly Peter was up. He grabbed the girl again, this time in fireman's carry fashion, and sped out of the building, now wondering if he was putting his life in danger by doing this. No matter; he could get it done. Whatever had happened just then probably wouldn't happen again.

Racing into the building a third time, Peter rushed into the mom and dad's bedroom and saw a crib next to their bed. Carefully reaching down and picking up the infant, Peter took three steps forward when it suddenly happened again. Time slowed down, and Peter coughed once and felt the floor underneath him crumble. He protected the infant as best he could as they fell, but right at the moment of impact Peter returned to his normal speedster state. He touched the ground with his feet and leaped forward, checking to make sure the infant was all right as he sped out of the building and placed the infant in her mother's arms.

Sweeping through the house one more time, Peter located a cat underneath a sofa and pulled him to safety as well. There. Done.