Victor, Victorious

Chapter Seven

Victor entered his bedroom, quietly shut his door, and locked it. His dad was drunk in the kitchen, mumbling to himself as he cooked something on the stove. He hadn't noticed Victor. Yet.

The boy threw his backpack into the corner. He looked at his hands like they belonged to an alien species.

What was wrong with him?

He rubbed his palms together. Electricity crackled.

"Ow!" He recoiled.

He was a freak. A total freak.

None of this would've happened if he had just left Colin alone. But Victor had to look tough in front of his boys, right?

Victor sat on the edge of his bed. He wrapped himself in the Raiders blanket, unsure how to proceed. His knee throbbed. He must have sprained it in the fall.

A light bulb flickered to life inside his clouded skull.

Victor reached under the bed and pulled out his laptop. It had been a Christmas gift three years ago. He knew his parents had spent too much on it, and he used it often so that it hadn't been a waste of money.

He flipped open the laptop and pressed the "power" button, ready to ask the Internet about his predicament.

Nothing happened except for the flash of a tiny static shock.

He smacked the computer and pressed "power" again.

Still nada.

"Come on!" He jabbed at the button over and over.

The laptop sizzled and popped. Sparks flew. Smoke billowed.

Startled, Victor tossed the computer. It clattered against a hard floor, which was barely protected by thin carpet. The laptop's plastic casing cracked like an egg.

He stared at the useless device, then grabbed a pillow. He yelled into it.

Would he ever be able to touch anything again?

The boy inspected his hands. They looked normal other than a couple of cuts he must've gotten from falling off the telephone pole. They did feel weird, though, like they sometimes felt after he'd been sleeping on his arms for too long. Kind of numb, kind of prickly.

Some sort of energy—power—flowed through his fingertips now. That had been the cause of his computer's shorting.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

"Victor!" his father called from the other side of the door.

God. No.

Arturo jiggled the doorknob, pounded on the door. "Open up! I need to talk to you!"

"Not right now!"

Not now. Not ever.

"Open up! You don't lock this door, damn it!"

"I'm busy. Um. Doing homework?"

Yeah, like that was totally believable.

"Sure, you are! Open! Now!"

"I can't."

"Or you won't! 'Cause you know what's coming your way!"

"What're you talking about?"

"Open, Victor!" It now sounded like his father was kicking at the door.

"Dad! Go away!"