Chapter 1
Chapter 1: Underachiever
I shot out of my sleep, startled by the blaring horn of a trumpet. I groaned and tried to cover my head with the warm covers, but it was too late.
“Rise and shine, Sweetheart. It’s time for your 5 am training.” I glared at my dad from the comfort of my pillow, absolutely pissed that anyone can be this chipper at 5 o’clock in the morning. “Oh c’mon, today is flexibility training! It’s going to be a blast.” I sighed before deciding to get out of bed, willingly, because I knew I really didn’t have much of a choice and it wasn’t a fight worth losing before I even brushed my teeth. “Ah-ta girl! You have fifteen minutes to get ready.” And with that he swiftly left the room.
I dragged myself to my bathroom with my eyes cast downward. Toothbrush in hand, I finally gazed up at my unsightly appearance. Dark circles rimmed my eyes. I looked like someone who hadn’t slept for the past 17 years. I continue to brush my teeth with my eyes anywhere but towards my own reflection. I already knew what inadequacy felt like- I didn’t need it staring back at me.
I hurried along with my skincare before getting to the mess beneath my bonnet. I had my mom’s hair, thick and 4b. That and my shape shifting ability is all I got from her. Then again, I didn’t really remember her well enough to say so. Everything that I know about my mother has come from photos and my father’s fond memories. And hearing about those memories is rare, like annually rare.
“Jolie.” I flinched as I heard the stern voice of my dad echo through the entire room. “I said fifteen minutes. I was generous and gave you twenty, but we got to get a move on.” I quickly grab a stray bottle, drenching my hair before grabbing a brush and getting my hair up in a half-assed bun.
“Sorry,” I mumble as I push passed him. “I lost track of time.” I don’t want to give him any time to lecture me, so I start jogging down the stairs, and I’m out the front door in seconds. I take a deep breath. The fall air makes my warm breath cloud in front of me as I stare down the winding trail, I am able to see the entirety of it from here. I feel a deep sense of nostalgia settle in as I begin to run down the path I have run for almost 12 years now. I couldn’t help but wonder if I would be running this same trail twelve years from now, or maybe I will have plucked up the courage to face my own shit.
When I arrive at the warehouse, I wait patiently for my father to finish setting up. I look up at the high bar my father was assembling. I used to love these obstacle courses. It was something that me and my dad could do together. This was something that only the two of us shared when otherwise, I would have to share him with the rest of the world. That love would soon be tainted when I came to know that I actually wasn’t his only hero in training. Hell, I wasn’t even his first hero-in-training.
Almost like he read my mind, Roman came waltzing into the warehouse. Roman was my father’s most prized prodigy. His hair was shaped in the most perfect afro. His track suit, miraculously, didn’t have a single wrinkle in it. Everything about him was impossibly and effortlessly perfect. I met Roman at my 8th birthday party. My dad decided it would be the perfect time to introduce me to Roman in hopes that he and I would begin a crime-fighting duo, in the same way as he and his old buddy did. Only problem being I hate Roman. He is, and always has been, a thorn in my side. He is over-confident, overly optimistic, and over-all just overbearing.
What made me angrier was the fact that all of the before-mentioned attributes simply made him all the more of a perfect student for my similarly wired father.
“Good morning, Jolie! How are you?” He offers me a big smile with his small wave. What pisses me off more is that he’s also just SOOO nice. Piece of shit. Don’t ask me how I’m doing.
“Hello, Roman. I’m fine.” I make sure to keep our conversations short. I know my reasons for not liking him are purely petty, but I want to hold on to them. I’m sure that if I were to actually spend time in a conversation and get to know Roman, his puppy-dog personality would have the crushing weight of guilt bring me to my knees. I make sure to avoid that at all costs.
“What’s the objective for today.” I asked, while turning my body away from Roman to face the now completed course. My father gets up from the floor dusting himself off.
“Today’s objective... Drumroll please, Roman.” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as Roman excitedly bounced his hands across his upper thigh to make a fast-paced rhythm. “Speed!” Shit. “Your goal being to complete this entire course in under 5 minutes.” Triple shit.
I struggle to compose myself after leaping, running, swinging, and climbing my way through the course. It was a brutal attack on my muscles, and I barely finished with thirty seconds left on the buzzer. Those two meatheads were able to complete the track together in exactly two minutes. Roman walked over to me with a water bottle, a towel, and that happy-go-lucky smile I couldn’t stand.
“You did so good! But I think if you try and improve your breath work, you could really give us all a run for our money. Maybe it could help you get more in tune with your ability. “ Roman said seriously, his eyebrows furrowed. There it is. That patronizing pep talk he feels the need to give me any time I see him. In the back of my mind; I know he means well. But if I’m being honest, his good intentions only piss me off more.
And here we have yet another thing that he and my father have in common. They’ve put it in their heads that they can help me master my ability the way they both have. Unfortunately for me, shape shifting is a rare superpower, resulting in information on my power being scarce. Therefore, I need to be trained by someone who understands my power. Roman has that with my father. My father’s body manipulation power has made him the worst mentor for me but the best mentor for Roman.
