A small chuckle bubbles out of me as I turn back to the ceiling.
The superhero we made years ago has only evolved. We still write and draw his comics and have filled many pages of the notebook we keep hidden in the lighthouse. Redwave takes our problems from us and turns them into something we can be proud of. When things are bad, we bring them to him, and he shows us what we can do. Like when we lost the hockey championship, and when I got suspended for the fire alarm thing… and for getting in a fight, and for hiding in the school. And when Levi’s cousin died and nobody knew what to say or do.
We make comics so that sadness, anger, and disappointment are put into the panels of a comic strip, where it hurts just a little less. And where Redwave shows us how to be strong and move on.
“What do you think he’d do?” I ask.
Levi laces his fingers behind his head and stares up at the ceiling beside me. “I know what hewouldn’tdo.”
I hold my breath as I wait.
“He wouldn’t fly away.”
My breath slowly escapes from my lungs.
“That would be easier,” I say.
“Would it, though?”
I don’t know.
I want to fly away from everything. From the kids at school who mutter things when they think I can’t hear, and when they know I can. From the teachers who expect me to keep up when I’m already behind. From my parents’ arguments and Mom’s crying.
But not from Levi.
Life would be even harder without him.
I turn to look at him, and he turns his head to meet my eyes.
“He’d stay,” I say.
Levi’s lips tilt up slowly. “Stick-it power.”
I nod and smile for the first time all day. “Stick-it power.”
FOUR
WE JUST TURNED SIXTEEN
“Come on, man.”
I nudge Silas with my elbow, and he rolls his eyes with a heavy sigh as he picks up his pencil again. But the lead doesn’t touch the page. He just stares at the paper on his desk as a muscle in his jaw tics.
The classroom hums with low conversations, pages turning, and chairs scratching over the floor, while Mr. Bell sits at his computer near the front. He scans the room every few minutes to make sure we’re all still working on ourPersonal Values and Career Prioritiesworksheets, but he’s letting us take our time and discuss them with partners.
I lean over to look at Silas’s paper and see that he hasn’t even written his name on it yet. All he’s done so far is draw geometric doodles along the edge and stare out the window. This is the only class we have together this year, now that we’re in Grade ten and in different course streams. But this one is a required class for everyone, and since it’s Career Exploration and Opportunities, and we’re nearing the end of the year, the worksheets are getting more specific as we figure out what we want to do after highschool, and what courses we need to take in Grade eleven and twelve to get there.
“This is bullshit,” he mutters, and scrawls his name across the top in a messy slant.
I chuckle, looking at the drawing of a pile of shit next to the title of the worksheet. “I see that.”
He tips his head back with another sigh. “Why do I have to do this? We all know I’ll just be working on the farm.”
I shrug a shoulder. “Maybe there’s something else you’ll want to do. That’s kind of the point.”
He lowers his head, and his hazel eyes meet mine. His hat is on backwards as usual, and his dark blond hair pokes out around his ears. “We both know there’s nothing else I can do.”
A snort of laughter sounds behind us, and I glance over my shoulder at Ashton and Jeremy.
