James stood exactly as Ben had told him, angled slightly sideways, with his hands, uncomfortably sweaty, clasped before him. His parents, who had arrived minutes after them in their own limo, stood in front of him. They both beamed at Derek.
The mayor continued his speech. “Few people are blessed with the power of the Supers, and even fewer, in our history, have used their powers for good. At this point, we’ve grown used to the Supers. Used to being saved by them. But we cannot take goodness for granted. True goodness is not a default state. It is a choice, an action. So when someone does good, even with the help of superhuman abilities, we must recognize it for the effort and sacrifice it takes.”
The mayor droned on, and James’s mind wandered. His hands felt wet, clammy, and his feet ached. His nose began to itch, and it took every effort not to reach up and scratch it. He felt like he had to stand as still as a statue in front of all these people, though that was ridiculous. What would they do if he scratched his nose? Stop the press conference as the crowd erupted into laughter at his actions, the mayor of New York and his parent staring at him in disgusted horror? Probably not, but best not to risk it.
The mayor went on to recap Derek’s actions—landing in the office building that was being held hostage, taking out the captors, flying the giant bomb they’d rigged up high above the city before it exploded, all that good stuff. James had heard the story a hundred times and had retold it at the demands of his classmates countless more.
“That’s why I am excited to give this medal of honor to Derek Bolt, the newest and youngest of the Supers,” the mayor said, finishing his speech. “May he receive many more.”
The onlookers erupted as the mayor placed the medal around Derek’s neck. James clapped along as the crowd rose, still cheering, and Derek stepped forward, beaming. He stood alone in front of the mass of people, taking in their admiration. James felt an emotion he didn’t recognize. Since day one, he’d felt nothing but pride for his brother. In that moment, for the first time since Derek had discovered his powers and been thrown into this crazy new world, James felt jealous. He watched Derek standing tall and proud and imagined it was him instead. What would it be like if he were up there, soaking in the adoration of the crowd? What would it be like if his parents looked at him the same way, with tears of joy in their eyes?
He shook his head as the ovation died down. What was he thinking? He was proud of his brother. Of course he was.
Right?
HOURS LATER, AFTER a flurry of photographs, a dinner with important people where all James did was sit and smile, and even more photos, he finally plopped into the seat of the limo, utterly exhausted. How Derek was still back there, smiling and making small talk with countless people, he didn’t know. His father climbed in next to him, bags under his eyes. His mother had stayed behind, promising to make sure Derek got back at a reasonable hour.
“That was something, wasn’t it?” his dad said, loosening his tie as the limo pulled away from the curb.
“Yeah,” James said, staring out the window. He didn’t feel much like talking.
His dad glanced at him. “Something wrong?”
“No.”
His dad looked out the window, and for a few moments, they rode in silence. Then he said, “I know it must be weird, seeing your brother like this.”
James made a noncommittal grunt.
“It is weird,” his dad said. “That’s not normal, having people scream your name, being on TV all the time. I’m sure it’ll go to his head.”
James doubted it. His brother always took things in stride. He was effortlessly humble. Not like James. James was full of doubt and fear and envy; he saw that now. He was weak where his brother was strong.
They fell into silence again as the limo pulled onto the highway, finally getting away from the bustling roads and the bright lights of the city. It had grown cloudy after the sunny afternoon, and James stared out at the gray sky, watching it slowly turn to the black of night. Rain began to gently fall.
“I’d say a penny for your thoughts, but pennies are pretty useless,” his father said. “So... dollar for your thoughts?”
James sighed. He didn’t even know what exactly he was feeling. Or why. So he said the first thing that popped into his head. “Am I weak?”
“What? No, of course not. Why—”
“I can’t do any of that,” James interrupted, waving his hand back to the city, to Derek, to the fancy dinner with fancy people, frustration flaring in his chest. “I can’t do anything. I’m useless.”
“Listen to me,” his dad said, leaning forward. His eyes gleamed in the dark car. “Your abilities don’t determine who you are. There will always be people stronger, faster, smarter than you. It’s this.” He jabbed his finger at James’s chest, at his heart. James rarely saw his father this passionate. “Strength of heart, strength of character. Those are the strengths that matter. When things get tough, it’s not your body or your mind that carries you forward. It’s something deeper, something nobody sees but you. If you have a strong heart, nobody can hurt you.”
James leaned back in his seat. Did he have a strong heart? He felt it beating in his chest. It didn’t feel particularly strong. It was a nice speech from his father, but it didn’t help him feel much better. It was like how his basketball team in middle school had gotten a participation trophy when it finished in tenth place. It was the adults telling them, Sure,
