Sandcastles Chapt.2

January 16th, 1995

I guess I couldn’t really blame them, something like this hadn’t really happened before. The superhero gene is genetic after all; it’s destined for the child of two superheroes to have a superpower. My older brother and my younger brother both had developed their powers already, and had them for years. I was fourteen, and I hadn’t. It was unheard of. Being superheroes themselves, there wasn’t a lot of time to figure out what was wrong with me, and at the moment there wasn’t a superhero genetic specialist around to see what the problem was.

The backyard of our house was several secluded acres, making the house itself look small. I sat on a white plastic lawn chair wrapped in a thick red blanket, watching my two brothers practice what they were good at. In the few months since the Halloween incident, Tucker had refined his skills, and it showed. Water floated around him gracefully, and I wondered how it didn’t freeze in the cold air.

(He explained it to me later how it was like how a river didn’t freeze in winter, running water and all.)

Michael was having less luck with his practice, being in a heavy winter jacket and thick gloves. It seemed to hinder his abilities, but he tried not to let it stop him. Sweat dripped down his brow as he molded his body, his clothes rejecting the process.

“If you rip another jacket, mom’s going to kill you!” I reminded him, cupping my mitten covered hands to my mouth.

“I know, I know!” He called back, “Now shut up! I’m trying to concentrate.

I mimicked his mockery silently to myself, “shut up, I’m trying to concentrate. We’ll see how badly you concentrate when I stop tutoring you in math you little twerp.” I crossed my arms and pulled the blanket tighter to my chest.

When a deluge of water splashed on me, my mouth gaped open like a fish out of water. “Tucker!” I shrieked, looking to him with a glare that would sour milk.

The water began to peel off of my skin and blanket. It tingled as it crawled its way off of me. I shuttered as the droplets flew into the air, making a large floating mass that began to drift back toward my older brother, who had a smug grin stretched across his face.

“You bastard, you know how much I hate when you do that!” I shouted, wrapping the blanket closer, still feeling the sting of the cold.

“Yeah, but I got all the water off this time, it’s great practice!” He protested, letting the water drop onto the ground as he walked over to me with a prideful grin.

“For you, but it really gets tiring after the first several times, use someone else as a target.” I demanded, retaining my glare, “Remember when you ruined my schoolbooks?”

“We got you new ones.” He whined, putting his hands in his coat pockets.

“After I spent the next few weeks trying to explain how I’d gotten water all over my books.” I spat, rolling my eyes.

“Not my fault.”

“It’s so your fault!”

“When are mom and dad getting home?” He changed the subject in a flash, I have to give it to you Tuck, you know when you can’t win an argument.

“How would I know? You’re the superhero.” I reached under my chair and grabbed a magazine.

“I’m technically not a superhero yet.” He pointed out, sitting next to me in the grass.

“Tuck, you know you’re going to be a type-A, you’re a superhero.” I rolled my eyes and looked down at him.

“I just don’t want to count my chickens before they hatch, you know?” He explained, leaning back on his ungloved hands, despite the weather.

“Come on.”

“Okay, I know I’m going to be a superhero, are you happy now?” He looked up at me with agitation.

“What city do you think you’re going to move into?” I interrogated with a smile, resting my cheek on my hand.

“Wherever I’m needed I guess.” Tucker looked into the distance, and I realized that he must not have thought of this much. At the time I couldn’t have imagined not thinking about the future, how Tucker could have gone through life so unconcerned with what was going to happen next.

He picked apart at grass ad watched Michael practice, sweat now near drenching our younger brother.

“Go inside and get a shower!” I called, eyebrows furrowing, “You look like a drowned rat!”

“You look like a butt!” He protested, panting heavily.

“Is that really the best thing you could come up with?” I asked, eyebrow raised, “Get inside, Fart Face.”

He moved to spew out another insult, but instead shut his trap and walked into the house, slamming the door behind him. The sun shined on the grass through the puffy, and snow began to drift down from the sky in small flakes. Tucker looked up and started absentmindedly toying with the bits of frozen water, making them fall faster or slower, or simply stand in thin air. His wrist twitched upon doing this, his fingers moving with a delicate motion, as though he were handling glass, or ceramic.

“How can you just do that?” I asked, mostly to myself as I watched him give the slight manipulation.

“Everyone’s got a talent.” He suggested, seeing the flakes melt in thin air, producing little droplets that he began to gather into a ball.

“That’s not a talent. A talent is when you can draw really well, or are a really good tuba player. This is different.” I insisted, “You could just suddenly move water when you were a kid, and mom and dad both have superpowers. It’s genetics.”

“If you knew, then why did you ask?” He let the water ball fall to the ground before brushing off his hands and standing up, to walk toward the house.

I sat there for a moment. I didn’t know why I asked it, why I even thought about it.

(Of course now I know.)