Just Super

The Residence is practically a copy of The School. 

The quick tour I get shows me that about a third of the bottom-floor rooms that are classrooms at The School are also classrooms here. Not all kids here get to go to regular classes at The School.  

The only major structural difference is that most of the rest of the rooms are dorm rooms, each with its own bathroom. That’s handy. 

The atmosphere is very different, though. This place is lived in in a way that The School isn’t because, well, it is lived in. There are kids hanging out in small groups in the halls, which doesn’t happen a lot at the school. 

About a third of the kids are wearing an odd-looking wrist band. As far as I can tell, the groups are mostly all wristband-wearing, or none. No one has said anything to me about a wristband, so I’m guessing I won’t be wearing one. More hoping than guessing, though.

After watching a little longer, I’m pretty sure I won’t get one. I spot several kids that attend regular classes. None of them are wearing wristbands. That seems like a positive sign.

While I walk the halls, I receive another schedule notification on my phone. A whole new schedule appears, this one specific to the Residence. The school day is blocked off and most of the rest is ‘Free Time,’ with optional blocks showing when meals are served. The only immediate event is a half hour orientation in the morning, right before I’ll be transported to The School.

I assume the food will be the same as in The School’s cafeteria, in which case I’ll be fine with eating my meals here, mostly. The only real problem would be lack of variety. We’ll get two or three options for each meal, and have to pick from those.

Thinking about it, it occurs to me I might not have much choice. Considering how quickly Mom shut down my phone, I doubt there’s anything left in my bank account, if I even still have access. Technically, that money is mine, but she’s a cosigner, and my parent, so I guess the bank would let her do whatever. 

On the other hand, if she hasn’t, there’s still a real chance she’ll check transactions, and if she notices I’m using my debit card out in the world, I’m not sure what she’ll do. At a minimum she’d realize that I’m not as locked up as she probably thinks. So I won’t even test it.

I messaged my cousin Vance after lunch, before I knew I’d be sentenced to The Residence. He said he’d be at his parents’ house this evening, which was perfect. I message him again.

Me: Meet you in your room?

Van: ?

Van: sure

I flicker to Van’s room. It’s pretty obvious he’s not here a lot anymore. Mainly a lot of his decorations are gone. I guess they’re in his dorm room now.

The door clicks and I take a deep breath. I’m not worried about him accepting me. There’s zero chance that he won’t. But I’ve got that feeling of guilt for the easy-mode transition. The door swings open.

“Holy shit!” Van is a little surprised.

I haven’t seen him since the whole locker room incident, and the couple times we’ve texted I haven’t mentioned it. Before my excursion, I was embarrassed, and afraid he’d feel like I was appropriating transness or something. 

Since figuring myself out, I thought I should tell Mom first. Maybe I should have mentioned it before coming over. Well, in for a penny…

“What?” I clasp my hands behind my back and try to look innocent. “Do I have something on my face?”

He rolls his eyes, then gets the biggest grin on his face and charges across the room to grab me in a bear hug. I used to be taller than him, but now he’s actually an inch taller than me. He lets me go after a moment.

“Congratulations!” he exclaims, then adds, “This is good, right?”

I smile back at him. “It’s amazing.” I think, then continue, “now, anyway.”

“When did all this happen?” he asks, but before I can answer, he changes tack. “Wait, how’s Aunt Joyce taking it?” 

That would be my mom. I don’t even know where to start, but my face must tell the story well enough. He steps back to the doorway.

“Mom, Dad! Frank’s here,” he shouts, then looks at me and mouths “she/her?” When I nod, he continues, “She needs a place to stay.”

Despite Uncle Keith’s insistence that I don’t need to, I’ve been helping him get dinner ready. It gives me something to do with my hands while I fill them in on the last few weeks.

I start with the fact that I can’t stay here yet, but I hope to be able to, soon. Then I tell them everything. Yes, I include how dense I was for the first several weeks.

“You poor thing,” Aunt Kate says, “I’m so sorry that she’s being so horrible to you.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m sorry she’s been horrible to Vance.”

“And that’s not your fault,” Uncle Keith replies.

“I’d talk to her,” Aunt Kate says, “but we all know how much good that would do.”

Everyone nods. I remember the screaming match she and Mom got into the last time we all saw each other. It wasn’t directly about Vance, but everyone knew that’s what the problem was.

“Your dad would not have put up with this, sweetie.”

Uncle Keith nods. “Frank was a good man. He might not have gotten it right away, but he would have worked at it until he understood.”

That made me cry. I wondered how my life would have been different if I’d gone to him when Mom wouldn’t let me play with Denise anymore. If I hadn’t told him nothing was wrong. I guess I might look a lot like I do now. I smiled a little at that thought.

“You’re staying for dinner, right?” Aunt Kate asks.

“Um, I was sort of planning to hang out with Emily,” I say quietly. I’m pretty sure I’m blushing.

“Well, take a couple plates with you then,” Uncle Keith insists.

“Let me check with Emily.”

I message with her for a minute. She doesn’t have anything planned. Her moms are at their game night, so she was just going to make a sandwich.

“Sure!”

I give everyone hugs and fill a couple plates, which I set on the counter. If they stay behind, I don’t want them to fall to the ground and break.

“I think someone from The School or the state will be calling you,” I say. “I’ll let you know when I know anything else.”

I grip the plates and flicker to Emily’s kitchen. The plates do indeed stay behind.

Emily starts to say something, but I’ve already flickered back to Chicago. I glare at the plates. I can’t think of any good explanation for having those plates of food with me in Austin. Sometimes, you just have to brute force things.

I grip the plates again and focus on my mark without activating it. The kitchen gets blurry around me. I focus for a few more seconds, then flicker again. This time, the plates come with me.

“What was that all about?” Emily asks.

I turn to face her and stop. She’s wearing a dress. It’s nothing fancy, just a simple sundress, but that’s not the point. I’ve never seen her in a dress before. 

“Frank?” Emily looks like she’s suppressing a smile.

I blink, then manage to say, “You know, how I usually have to come up with—”

“Oh, right. So it’s more complicated when you’re carrying something?”

“Sometimes,” I said, “Sometimes I can just brute force it. My mark is nothing if not mercurial.”

“Ooh, mercurial.”

“It’s a perfectly fine word.”

In response, she pats me on top of my head.

If she’d done something like that  a couple of months ago, I would have been furious at the condescension. Now, I blush and look away.

I take the plates to the dining table, where Emily has already set out silverware and drinks. We dig in.

“This is really good,” Emily says.

It’s stir-fried tofu with vegetables and brown rice. That’s a little odd, because I cooked white rice, and I’m pretty sure there were no water chestnuts in it before I brought the plates here. Oh, well. These things happen.

We don’t talk much while we eat. We do glance at each other a lot, though. A lot.

Since I provided the food again, Emily volunteers to do what little cleanup there is. I offer to help, but she insists.

Watching Emily move as she cleans up is interesting. Okay, of course it’s interesting. But that’s not what I mean. At a glance someone might think she’s only what you see on the surface—a slender girl that could be shoved aside casually. But if you really pay attention, you can see how solid she is. She’s practically immovable. 

Out of nowhere, I’m hit with the memory of her feet flying out from under her. Of her collapsing to the ground, bleeding.

“Are you okay?”

I shake my head to try to clear it.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“What happened?”

“Everything is a lot right now,” I deflect.

“If you want to talk about any of it, I’ll listen.”

She finishes cleaning up and we settle back in at the table to work on homework. We don’t share any classes, so we’re not so much helping each other as keeping each other company. After a bit, Emily pushes her homework aside.

“What’s it like?” Emily asks.

“It’s pre-calc. It’s annoying.”

“I mean the Residence.”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s actually a lot like The School, but kids live there.”

I describe what little I saw on my tour.

“I wonder if it’s the same space as The School, or its own.”

“What do you mean?”

“My theory is that the school is in a pocket universe.”

“But I can teleport to it, and you may have noticed that I mostly can’t reach other universes.”

“Oh. Huh. New data point. I’ll let you know when I figure out how that might work.”

When, not if. I guess overconfidence counts as a flaw. Six.

“Why did you just say ‘six,’ under your breath?”

Oops.

“I think I’m not going to say.”

“Come on, tell me.”

“Nope.”

“Fine. I won’t play the song I found for you today.”

“Hey!”

“Your choice. And no lying.”

“How would you know?”

“I’ll have to trust you.”

“Monster.”

She waits. 

Am I going to tell her? It will be embarrassing, but she isn’t going to let it go, and now I can’t lie about it.

“If I tell you, truthfully, you’ll play me the song, and let go of the topic?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. When your mom asked me what flaws you had, I couldn’t think of any. She said I should find some, so I’ve been paying attention.”

She mutters something about her mother under her breath.

“So you’re counting them.”

I nod.

“And you’re up to six.”

Nod.

“In about two days?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Well, clearly you’re not paying enough attention to me, if that’s all you’ve got.”

She takes a sip of water.

“Work on that,” she finishes, with a hint of a smile. 

Flaw number seven: insufferably cute.

We’re sitting on the sofa in Emily’s living room, watching Queer Hearts. Sitting very close on the sofa. I think we’re about half way through our second episode when she leans her head on my shoulder. My brain shuts off for a second and I miss her saying something.

“What?” I ask.

“Is this okay?”

At that instant, the front door opens and she is suddenly a foot away on the sofa.

“Hey, kids!” one of her moms calls out, “Are y'all done with your homework?”

“Yeah, Mom!” Emily replies for us. She throws me an apologetic look.

I make eye contact with her.

“Yes,” I say.

She thinks for a second, then she gets it, and gives me a big smile.

We watch the rest of the show with a little more distance.

I look at the boxes sitting at the foot of my bed. A guy showed up at Emily’s to get my stuff to bring here. He packed it into these three not-very-large boxes and carried them out of the house. When I flickered here fifteen minutes later, the boxes were sitting here.

Once I get my stuff put away, I spend an hour catching up on social media, since I haven’t looked at any of it since Friday night. It turns out I didn’t miss anything.

From the time I got back, up until Saturday evening, I mostly managed to avoid thinking about Emily. Since then I’ve been thinking about her a lot. Now I think of something that I had planned to do as soon as I got back. I open up a browser and look up poltergeists. 

I looked them up while we were on other Earth, but that wasn’t at all helpful. Poltergeists there are folklore. Since around the time of the Invasion, poltergeists here are very real. At least they were very real.

Up until eight or so years ago, there were several confirmed poltergeist incidents a year. Most were relatively small, but at least once a year, and more often twice or three times, there was a major incident—like, large-scale damage. About eight years ago, incidents dropped off a lot. Over five years there were six confirmed significant incidents. 

The last confirmed poltergeist incident was not quite four years ago. Emily has been at the school for less than a year and a half. I will definitely be asking Emily about this.

The administrator who handles my orientation is a dick. He’s already decided that I’m guilty, and everything he says comes with the implication that I’m here for the long haul. I manage to bite my tongue and look like I’m taking him seriously.

It probably sounds stupid to anyone who isn’t me, but the worst part of the whole Residence thing is having to wait at the pads for Checkers. I could be at the school where I need to be with approximately zero effort, but, no, I have to waste her time and mine. Only about a second of hers, but it’s the principle of the thing.

There’s also the fact that people notice. No one knows why Checkers is bringing me in, that first morning, but I’ve been obnoxious enough about not needing her that it has to mean something. I’m sure that by lunch everyone knows that I’m at the Residence.

It shouldn’t matter to me. Half the school is probably still pissed at me for almost getting them almost killed. The other half has probably forgotten I exist. But anyone paying attention knows that I promised to be better, and now they’re going to think I broke that promise.

It sucks.

Peter doesn’t have another dentist appointment, so no lunch with Emily today. I do manage to get a few minutes with her, though. I walk with her between classes, only flickering to my own class seconds before the bell rings.

We haven’t talked anymore about our potential movie date. Am I supposed to be doing something? When I asked girls out, before I got marked, I always planned something, but maybe I’m supposed to be doing something now? Has she changed her mind?

I have some trouble focusing on my tutoring session, but I’m not the only one. Something is bothering Peter. Since we’re both distracted anyway, I might as well try to make conversation.

“How was the dentist?” Small talk is not my specialty.

“It was weird,” Peter replies. He plucks at what looks a lot like a friendship bracelet on his left wrist. He wasn’t wearing that last time I saw him.

“Weird how?”

“It was a new dentist—someone my dad got recommended online. It didn’t even seem like a dentist office; it had this weird new-agey vibe. When we were done, they put this on me.’”

He holds up the wrist with the bracelet. Now I can see that there’s a little polyhedral bead on it, made of what looks like quartz or some other crystal.

“I’m supposed to leave it on until my next appointment to ‘remind me to take better care of my teeth.’“

“Yeah, you’re right. That is weird.”

The important stuff covered, we return to learning all there is to know about history.

After school, I head out to wait with the other kids for my turn to be teleported “home” by Checkers. Emily has after-school aikido in the gym today, so I don’t see her.

There’s a surprise waiting for me when I get back to my room at the Residence. 

There are four boxes sitting next to my bed, and a note. Mom has relented and sent my stuff. I wasn’t expecting that. She must be trying to look reasonable.

Wait, if she’s trying to look reasonable—

Yes! My old phone is unlocked.

I spend the next half hour downloading data, photos, and contacts to my computer. I also dump all my data onto my new phone. Once I’m sure I have everything I want, I do a factory reset on the old one. I’ll have a hard time trusting it for anything, at this point.

Somewhere in there I get a message from Emily.

Em: Moms want to know if you want to come to dinner

Me: Just them?

Em: Yes. Just them. I have no interest whatsoever

Em: None

Em: At 

Em: all

Em: 6:00

Me: Let me check my calendar. One of my many other friends may require my presence

Me: Checking . . . 

Me: Checking . . .

Me: Checking . . .

Me: Looks like I can move things around and free up fifteen minutes or so

Em: Living room’s empty.

“No it isn’t, there’s a sofa right there,” I say, as I flicker into her living room, “and a television, and a—”

A pillow smacks me in the face. 

“Smartass,” Emily says.

She’s standing in the doorway to the dining room. Since there isn’t a place she could have grabbed the pillow from, she has clearly been lying in wait. I’m so proud.

I stick my tongue out at her.

“Good evening, Frank,” a mom calls from the kitchen, “chicken ravioli okay with you?”

“Yes, Ms. English. Thanks.”

“Wait, you used your powers for good, not evil?”

Word about the whole Reggie and Blake thing somehow got to her.

“That’s awesome!” she continues, and grabs me in a hug.

I know she’s joking, but ‘evil’ sort of gets to me. I’m not sure how to react, so I end up just standing there. 

Emily lets go and takes a step back.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.”

She looks upset. I hurt her feelings. Good going, Frank. 

I step toward her.

She steps back.

“You’ll never guess what I found in my room,” I cleverly change the subject.

“What?” Emily looks slightly relieved.

“My mom actually sent my stuff.”

Her look of relief changes to one of concern.

“You don’t think you’ll be there long enough to need it, do you?”

“Gods, I hope not. But it’s good to have it, and I don’t want to send it to my cousin’s until that’s a sure thing.”

“That makes sense. Want to watch more Queer Hearts?”

I would like that a lot—especially the sitting very close together on the sofa part. I have something else in mind, though.

“Remember how you told me something, and I promised I wouldn’t ask any questions until we got home?”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “Let’s sit down.”

We each take a seat on the sofa. It’s ‘L’ shaped, and I sit on the shorter part while Emily sits near me on the longer section. Our knees are just touching.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather watch Queer Hearts?” she asks.

“I’m sure, but I also said I wouldn’t push, so if you don’t want to…”

She shakes her head. “It’s fine.”  She takes a deep breath. 

“The poltergeist showed up on my thirteenth birthday,” she begins.

Despite what you see on TV and the movies, getting a mark isn’t some complicated thing. Mine showing up in the middle of a baseball game is an outlier, even. Most kids wake up with them. There’s not really much to tell.

But Emily? 

Emily has a fucking origin story.