HERO

5 / I Do Solemnly Swear

Brains, including that of a ten year old boy, can barrel through thoughts like a bowling ball rolling a strike. The thoughts can scatter, to be picked up by a mental pinsetter but never be placed back in their original order. They become a random jumble of unlinked ideas and notions. Many things can pitch the ball, from a shock to an injury to a pretty girl.

Thomas had yet to think about relationships or intimacy or sexuality. He felt, too much, the weight of his failure to uncover his powers. The fact they were a genetic mutation and not something he had any control of didn't matter. He still felt it to be his fault. Still, the eyes of the girl facing the breath from him and held it until his heart stumbled for a heartbeat. Then, with an explosive exhalation, he found he had it again.

She was older than him by perhaps three years. Dark skinned with a mess of wild curls for hair. She smiled at him and her lips thinned as they stretched, but it was her eyes that held him.

They looked to have fire in them.

He realised it must be the effect of her abilities, but it was a phenomenon he hadn't heard of before. All the colours of the shades she had just taken continued to dance and swirl in her eyes. Orange and brown and grey and specks of red from the brick wall, something that was generally seen as mundane, were retained after she'd assumed her proper form.

"I assume you'll stop staring sooner or later, "she said, smirking. "I'd hope so, anyway. I don't fancy hanging around here for too long."

The fire faded, turning the girl's eyes a deep green. They still held a spark when she inked, but Thomas was no longer spellbound.

"Sorry," he said, feeling less inferior than he would have expected. "I've never seen a Chameleon so good. How did you...?"

The girl stepped forward suddenly, leaning in to him. Her smile was gone.

"Don't call me that. Never call me that."

Her tone was low and even and, if she'd been an animal, would have been a snarl. Thomas flinched. He wondered how things could keep, so rapidly, turning sour.

"I... I... What? A Chamele..."

The girl's hand moved too fast for him to react, and the slap was loud, stinging sharply. Thomas was too shocked to cry out. He fought back the tears that were brimming and forced himself to not put his hand to his cheek.

"A Chameleon is a lizard. Do I look like a fucking lizard to you?"

"No! Of course not! I just... that's what your kind..."

The hand came again, this time from the other direction. Now, Thomas's full face was hot and throbbing. He choked back a sob and felt, more than any other time in his short life, like an admonished child.

"My kind? My fucking kind?"

"You don't need to swear," Thomas said. His voice cracked, but he tried to regain a measure of dignity.

The girl clearly wasn't expecting such a response. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, moving away from the boy. She stared at him.

"Well, I do apologise."

Thomas nodded but kept his mouth shut. He didn't trust himself to speak any more than he had. The girl laughed, a brief snort that could have been either derision or begrudging respect.

"I'm still pissed at you, ya know?" A nod. "I ain't a Chameleon. A Chameleon is a lizard. I ain't got a tail and I ain't green."

"But you could be. You know, if you wanted to be."

The girl punched his shoulder, not quite gently but not hard. It was a nudge, not an attack.

"Fair point," she said. "But don't ever call me that again. I'm a person. I have a name. I'm not an animal or a thing or a... brand or whatever you want to call it."