Rocky drove forward, but James’s defender collapsed down, cutting off his lane. Rocky turned and passed the ball back to James, who was wide open. Time slowed. James imagined a crowd around him, cheering as the clock ticked down. Three... two... James released the ball, and it arched through the air, turning in the sunlight, the game-winner...
It bricked hard off the backboard. Luckily, Rocky muscled his way through the two defenders and grabbed the rebound. He jumped and nearly dunked as he laid it in for an easy bucket.
Their opponents said good game and moved off to the other court. Rocky tossed the ball to James, panting, “Good game, bro.”
“Yeah, that was a perfect pass at the end,” James said. He shot again and this time missed the rim completely. He was beginning to think sports weren’t in his future.
Rocky glanced at the watch on his wrist. “Alright, man, I’ve got to go. I’m babysitting tonight.”
“For sure.” James couldn’t imagine Rocky watching someone’s child, but he didn’t say anything. They’d only started hanging out recently, and he didn’t want to mess up a potential friendship. When you were a freshman in high school, you needed all the friends you could get.
James stayed after Rocky left, bouncing the ball. He dribbled between his legs, turned, and hit a jump shot. Of course, now he could shoot just fine.
As he shot hoops, his mind wandered to Derek. He wondered where his brother was right now. He hadn’t seen much of him lately. Derek was eighteen, a full adult, and the Supers had started to give him more responsibilities, including going on longer missions. Sometimes he disappeared for weeks at a time. It had been two weeks since James last saw Derek, and he had no idea where his brother was. Avus had stopped by, of course, and let James and his parents know that Derek would be gone for a while. But whatever he was doing was top secret, so even his family couldn’t know.
It still felt weird that sometimes the Supers just stopped by to talk to him. A month ago, Myrcellus had picked him up from school as a favor for Derek. The next day, he’d been bombarded by questions from his classmates. They all wanted to know what the Supers were really like. They looked at James with admiration.
Well, not all of them.
“Hey, Bolt!” Tristan White’s voice drifted across the park. James groaned and kept dribbling.
“I said, ‘Hey Bolt,’” Tristan said, stepping onto the court. He was flanked by Ryan and Brian, his two friends who didn’t seem aware that their names rhymed. They didn’t seem aware of much, really. All three of them were big for their age, their muscles well-developed.
“What’s up, gang?” James said, still dribbling and refusing to look at them. “Down for some hoops? I’ll keep score. I know counting is tough.”
They didn’t laugh. Tristen stepped closer and knocked the ball away mid-bounce.
“That’s a foul,” James said, sounding calmer than he felt.
“You’re a funny guy,” Tristan said, though he didn’t sound amused. “Still funny when you don’t have your brother or his friends to protect you.”
“I don’t think they’re really friends,” James said. “More coworkers, if anyth—”
Tristan punched him in the stomach.
James crumpled to the ground, the air forced from his lungs. He went to one knee, wheezing. Tristan stepped away, letting James stand back up. Daring him to.
So James did. And Tristan hit him again. This time James didn’t go down but swung wildly. Tristan dodged the blow easily and pushed James so he stumbled. Brian and Ryan stood back, laughing. They were toying with him. That made James angry. It was a game for them, messing with the brother of a Super. They were daring James to run away, to find Derek and have his brother come save him.
He wouldn’t do that. He could handle this on his own.
James launched forward with a snarl. Tristan’s eyes widened in surprise as James wrapped his arms around the bigger boy and pulled him to the ground. They rolled for a moment on the blacktop, and James managed to stay on top. He straddled Tristan with triumph, raining punches down on his smug face.
It lasted for about five sweet, wonderful seconds.
Then Brian and Ryan grabbed James from behind.
They held him still as Tristan pushed himself up from the ground. There was a red spot on his cheek that would surely turn into a bruise, but other than that, he was fine. Fine and angry.
The beating went on for a long time. Longer than James thought possible. First, all he saw was fists flying at his face. Then he saw red. Then black.
But eventually, it stopped. James groaned and realized he was lying face-down on the ground. There was a shout behind him, then the sounds of shoes scraping on the blacktop, running away. James didn’t move. He was just thankful it was over.
A hand touched his shoulder gently, and he squinted up into the sunlight.
Leo stood tall above him. Great. Once again, a Super had saved him. Tristan and his goons would be even angrier next time.
Leo helped James to his feet, his face showing concern beneath his wild mane of hair. “Are you okay?” he said. “Should I go after them?”
“No.” James spat a glob of red. “Just a normal fight.”
“Normal fight, sure,” Leo said, eyebrows raised. James knew he looked like a mess.
“I almost had them,” James said, smiling through the pain.
Leo laughed and shook his head. “You really are Derek’s brother.” He started walking across the park, and James followed, curious. Leo was the youngest Super after Derek, in his early twenties. Naturally, Derek and Leo had grown close in Derek’s short time as a Super. James understood why—besides Derek, Leo was the Super who seemed most like a normal guy. He had no pretension about him, no gravitas. He walked with his hands in his pockets, his long hair obscuring his face. He would blend
