I Was a Teenaged Metahuman Ch. 01

"You can't be serious," he breathed.

"Oh? Is that not 'equal or greater value'?"

He couldn't help himself, not around Felice. He looked straight at them and said, "Much greater."

When she didn't reply immediately, he knew that he'd come on too strong and blown it. He only hoped she wouldn't tell the rest of the school. His reputation was still in critical condition, and the Arlena Hampton Incident had been way back in third grade. Even then, the kinds of thoughts he had were, in the parlance of his teachers, 'Wholly inappropriate'. He'd learned to keep them tightly contained.

There was no amount of women's literature he could have read that would unlock the mystery of what was going on in Felice's facial expressions right now.

"It's a bet," she said.

Max gaped at her, but she grinned and looked a little blush-y. She sing-songed, "But you're gonna mi-iss!"

Max felt something stirring in his lower regions. There was no way he was going to be able to make an accurate shot if the situation in his pants continued. He had to take his swing, and he had to do it now.

Settle. Focus. The ball is one with the hole. He tapped the bright orange ball with the putter and it bumbled across the green. Max leaned, trying to steer it with his mind, but it bumped into the pipe without going in.

Felice whooped in triumph as Max groaned. He felt that an overdramatic gesture such as sinking to his knees while flinging his arms wide to the heavens was appropriate at this time.

"Aww yeah! No yard work for this girl!" The way she pointed her thumbs at herself arched her back in a most distracting way, and it was almost as good as if he'd won the bet.

No. No, it wasn't. But it was still nice when she jumped up and down with glee.

At least I'm safe from hellfire, he thought glumly. Then, "Wait. You haven't won yet."

Felice made as if her putter were a gun and popped off a shot. "Oh, but I have!"

"If I make this, we're tied."

"Pfft, you'll never make it!" Darn, she was extra-cute when she was scornful.

Max ignored his awakened groin and sweaty palms, or at least told himself he was ignoring them. He took a deep breath and tried to find his center. He could do this. He was a putt-putt soldier. His mini-golf game had been honed over the years by a hundred youth group outings. While the other kids laughed and played (the fools!), he studied the game.

He carefully swung the putter and tapped the ball, only then releasing his pent-up breath. The ball slipped into the pipe, and then there was an ominous, hollow rattling that seemed to last too long... was it stuck in there?

Max was about to investigate when the ball emerged, speedily angling for the hole.

He held his breath again. The ball slowed and wove back and forth as it traversed the poorly-maintained green.

Come on, he thought at the ball. Come on!

Pop! It fell in.

"Yes!" he whooped.

"A tie," said Felice sadly. "I guess no one gets what they want."

"Or... Both parties get what they want." he made a hopeful face that made her giggle.

"Ha! You wish!" she replied, and she swung her booty around and bumped his hip.

This was their first date. They were, technically, dating. Max had never dated anyone before, but he was pretty sure that people who dated did sometimes remove articles of clothing in each other's presence. Despite what Jesus said about nudity being the devil's garment, Max felt he wasn't completely out of line here. That argument would never fly with the Baptists, but things were different in the land of putt-putt.

Seeing his face, she said, "You don't have to look so relieved."

"I'm not relieved," said Max. "Wait. I am, a little. It's... You know." She looked more confused and less excited the more he spoke, but he added, confidentially, "I don't know if I could handle it."

Felice's mouth dropped open and her eyes shimmered with mirth. "You probably couldn't!" she declared. Oh, she liked that. What had he done?

"C'mon, let's get out of here," she said, and she tossed her putter to an employee who surprised himself by catching it.

Max marveled at the things women could get away with.

*

Echo

"Where did you find this road boat, anyway?" Felice asked.

"It is not a road boat," he said, a defensive note in his voice.

It was totally a road boat. Built in the early seventies by hardworking Detroit residents who welded all day and drank light beer all night, it was an imposingly stylish beast. Acres of gleaming, painted steel bookended by blindingly chromed bumpers enclosed a cabin large enough for a small child to do cartwheels (he still had the scar). It had more cracked leather inside than a cigar bar.

Max heaved open the door and ushered his date into the vehicle. It was a hopelessly romantic gesture even for a man of the South, but driving the car he did, he figured he was well on his way to becoming a hipster, just as soon as he could grow a moustache long enough to curl at the ends. Might as well get used to it, he figured as he made the trek around to the other side.

"Everything okay over there?" asked Felice jokingly.

"What? What? What?" he asked.

It was a dumb joke but she laughed anyway. More than was necessary, and that made him wonder.

And hope.

He hadn't been lying, though, when he told her he didn't know if he'd be able to handle her. Best not to take a chance. He'd behave himself, so there would be no danger of things getting out of hand.

*

Ma'am

That Saturday he showed up at Felice's at nine o'clock with his landscaping gear. The house was quiet so he figured they were asleep, and he went ahead and got to work. This was not unusual, as he'd already done two lawns that morning for his job, and neither client had roused from their beds to bear witness.

It was a smallish, cozy house that when built had been nearly identical to the others on the street, quarters for workers at some now-defunct mill or factory. He was hazy on the details but happy not to be burdened with the info. Since then, the house's yard had gone from a billiard-flat, grass-only thing to the kind of overgrown micro-jungle he so often saw in older neighborhoods. Truth be told, he appreciated them. The way the wildness could seep back in after being so thoroughly wiped out was pretty inspiring to a guy looking forward to a lifetime of work and backaches.

He went over the area first to pick up debris such as fallen branches and pinecones, things that even his weak, second-hand mower would turn into missiles when it ran them over, and then cut the front yard. He was making his first few forays into the more overgrown side yard when he heard a woman call out, "Hey, you!"

He turned and was struck in the face by the sight of Felice's mom.

She was the more developed, mature version of Felice. Looking like she'd just rolled out of bed, her ash-blonde hair haloed her makeup-free face in uneven wisps, her generous chest was covered by a soft sleep shirt and a satin robe, and her hips...

He released the safety lever on the mower before it kept running and bored a hole into the earth. It was already ninety degrees and he was sweaty enough that bits of grass and dry leaf stuck to him all over. He took a moment to wipe his face and hands with a towel.

She walked toward him, and it seemed to Max that in the next few moments she'd decide whether she'd be affronted at this stranger trespassing on her property or amused that he was doing chores.

"Who are you?" she asked. "And why are you mowing my lawn?" She had the same cute smile as Felice. Or the other way around, he realized.

"I'm Max?"

"Oh, you're Max!" She seemed a little triumphant, like Felice had been keeping him a secret.

"I'm Max," he confirmed amiably.

"Valerie," she said, and was close enough to extend her hand, which he grasped and gave a little squeeze in lieu of a regular handshake. It seemed to be the right thing to do. She continued, "You're dating my daughter, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am." He was super-proud to be able to say that, but he tried not to overdo it.

She gave him a quick once-over. "She didn't tell me you were so tall!"

"Oh! Well. She didn't tell me you were." He swallowed. "Um."

Her eyes glittered with amusement and her face showed surprise. "Tell you I'm what?"

Cute. Pretty. Alluring. Bare-legged. He managed not to say these things, but failed to keep himself from looking at her, which meant he might as well have said them anyway.

"Tell you I'm what?" she prompted, her amusement widening.

"I can see where she gets her good looks," he replied, and this was without a doubt the correct thing to say.

"Look who's a smooth talker!" she grinned, but he would never be able to replicate such a feat of silver-tongued devilry again in his life. He mentally high-fived himself. Don't get cocky, Max, this conversation's only just begun, and you'll have plenty more chances to screw it up.

"Well it's true," he said. His gaze dropped to her cleavage and he glanced away in alarm. Maybe she didn't notice. "Um, mind if I water your chrysanthemums? They look a little dry."

Playfully, she replied, "If you think those are dry, let me show you my azaleas." It was like they were having two different conversations!

She turned away to show him. After taking a second to appreciate her butt and feel guilty about it, he followed her.

"These need some work," he said when they got to the aforementioned plants. The leaves were starting to yellow and spot, and as suggested, they were dry.

"I think you're just the guy to do the job," said Felice's mom and her directness took his breath away. There was subtext here, he was sure of it, but he decided to keep it simple and stick to the landscaping.

Chirpily, he said, "I've got all the equipment. Mower, edger, rakes, even a heavy-duty hose, just in case."

"Oh," she said, a little breathlessly. "Good. Look, I've got something to do inside so I'll just leave you to it? I'll come back to check on you."

She hurried off and left him confused. Why was he feeling excited? She was somebody's mom! He'd even thought she was flirting with him!

Sighing at his silly flights of fancy, he got back to work.

He'd watered and pruned the plants and mowed most of the lawn when Valerie stepped into view. This time she was dressed for the day in a pastel shirt and white shorts (a couple weeks late for white but he didn't dare point it out). Her hair had been put into a ponytail and some makeup had been applied. She was even more enticing than she'd been the last time. The perfume she wore made him a little dizzy.

"I brought you something to drink," she said, and presented a glass of cold iced tea. He took it, their fingers touching and sending a brief jolt through him, and drank half of it down in one go. It was northerner-style tea without sugar, but he was grateful for it.

She looked around and said, "It looks great so far! You're working hard!"

"Thank you."

"You never told me why, though."

"Why what?"

"Why you're doing my yard work?" she asked, like he was dumb, which was true enough.

He rubbed the back of his neck with the cold glass. "Oh. I lost a bet."

He found himself relating the quaint tale of their mini-golf bet, which was not a great idea in hindsight as he had to gloss over the reward Felice had suggested, should he win. There were stammers and blushes and he'd tried to substitute 'a kiss' for 'her bare breasts' but it was a bad fit and Valerie noticed something was up.

Mercifully, she didn't press it. But she wasn't that merciful. "So you haven't kissed her yet?" she asked.

"No, I haven't." His reply was dutiful, he realized, a report to an elder. She noticed and instead of taking offense she looked a little sad for him. She cooled a little toward him, it seemed.

"Still, one kiss versus all this work? Don't you think that was kind of lame bet on your part?"

"I guess so. She just got me tongue-tied, I guess."

"Women can do that," replied Valerie philosophically.

Something about the directness of her gaze made him stammer. "Yeah, um. Heh. That is... Uh, yeah. True." This amused her greatly.

"Is she around?" he asked, but Valerie shook her head.

"Felice has band practice today."

"She's in a band?" he blurted before he could think.

"No, Dingus, she's in Band. Like with the horns and the drums and the big fuzzy hats? She'll be gone for several more hours yet."

But of course she was. She'd told him that. Was he getting overheated? Where was his head?

Without the person who'd invited him, he suddenly felt like an intruder here. He said, "I hope this isn't an inconvenience, Ms. Eckerson. I—"

"Stop that," she interrupted sharply.

"What?"

"If you call me Ms. Eckerson or Ma'am again I'm going to... Smite you."

"Sorry. It's a habit."

"And it's no inconvenience. I was going to catch up on my chores before work. You're a huge help!"

"Eww, work on a Saturday?" The world could be so unjust, sometimes.

She laughed. "My job has been very demanding lately."

"What do you do?"

He got a brief crash course in corporate human resources and recruiting and the reality of the 24-hour white collar email availability routine. She then asked about his career aspirations, and he replied with some vague ideas about his own landscaping business or maybe a gardening center, or maybe he'd be a test pilot in the air force or a Hollywood stuntman. There might still be time afterward to get into an astronaut training program, too, should the mood strike him.

He liked to make Valerie laugh.

The conversation was surprisingly enjoyable. When it wound down and he turned to finish his work, she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

Again, the touch was electric, even more so than before. She seemed to notice it, too.

"I've got to head out. Why don't you come back next week and finish up?" she asked. "I'll pay you! No, don't look at me like that, I can afford to and you do good work. This yard needs a lot of attention and you're perfect for the job, and it'll be such a help. Say you'll do it."

How could he say no?

*

Plastic Robot

When the night of his next date with Felice arrived, he met her at the door to her house. She greeted him and suddenly they were hugging, and he realized she'd kissed him. On the lips, she'd kissed him, if only for a moment. He put his arms around her by reflex and was wondering if he could kiss her back when Valerie came out from the back of the house. Felice hastily disengaged while her mother pretended not to notice.

"Where are you two off to tonight?" she asked.

Felice related a surprisingly detailed itinerary involving dinner and a movie that was apparently made up on the spot. Valerie hinted at dire consequences should her daughter violate curfew, and then they were off.

Thanks to his extra income, Max was able to afford a white tablecloth kind of place for dinner. It was dim and cozy, and they were unlikely to be spotted by anyone who could carry tales back to his mother, who had been led to believe her son had made the Overwatch semi-finals.

Felice was such a joy to talk to. They discussed the gossip at school and she asked questions about her new town and the guy she was dating. He couldn't believe they were dating. She'd used the word 'dating!'

This was all happening so fast!

*

"This is not the way to the movie theater," observed Felice.

"I want to show you something."

Felice tapped him on the shoulder and when he looked, she rolled her eyes. Clearly it was important that he knew his comment had been worthy of such a gesture.

She was probably thinking he wanted to show her one of his more reclusive body parts, but he didn't correct her. That wasn't what he meant at all. He'd die from the embarrassment if he tried.

In spite of the eyerolls, Max persevered. He had a plan.

It wasn't a long drive, and the gravel portion of the road wasn't long enough to endanger his car's vast paint job. He parked, and by the time he made his way to her side of the car she'd shoved open the massive car door and let herself out.

"What is this?" she asked.

"The Akemann Place. They're out of town for a few days and don't mind if we use their pond." Mister Akemann had in fact suggested the idea and although his thoughts had run more toward fishing, Max didn't think the old fella would mind if he left the catfish undisturbed tonight.

Max got a picnic basket out of the trunk. "Come on," he said and the darkness made him bold enough to hold out his hand and wait for her to take it.

When she slipped her hand into his, he felt a flush of excitement all over his body and they shared a smile before heading off. He led her over a little bridge to the center of a pond, where a gazebo stood on a tiny island.

The moon and stars shone on the glass-smooth water. Frogs were chirping all around them, blending with the whisper of the wind in the trees. The fragrance of fresh-cut grass surrounded them.

He spread a blanket on the bench, then attached a little speaker to his phone and started playing music.

"I like this band," she said.

He grinned bashfully. "I know."

She pushed at his arm and made a small feminine grunt of mild outrage but he shrugged and said, "What, you want me to guess what kind of music you like?"

She accepted that with another eye roll, but she smiled as she asked him, "What I want is for you to explain what you think we're going to do here."

Max reached once more into the picnic basket and retrieved a plastic robot.

"We're going to play with toys in the dark?" she asked doubtfully.

"Yes," he said, and twisted its head off, turning it upside down to shake from within its molded innards a small white paper tube.

Felice pointed, "Is that a..."

"Yep," he said proudly, holding it up to the moonlight. "It's a joint. Turns out all I had to do to get marijuana was ask any one of my coworkers." And it had taken most of an hour to work up the nerve to do so.

"You need to stop calling it marijuana. You sound like somebody's grandpa. It's weed, get it?"

"Got it. Weed."

"We don't have anything to light it with," she said to his great relief, as he had begun to doubt she'd be into it. He pulled a lighter from the basket as well.

He got it lit and they passed it back and forth, just the two of them.

"I like that you smoke weed, it's so rebellious," he said. So far, she had yet to cough up a lung.

"It was a big deal at my old school."

"People do it here, too."

"Obviously." She waved the joint. "It's not like the reason we moved."

"It must be hard, moving around."

"It is. It's lonely. We've been doing it ever since she and Dad split and she got that job."

"I'm lonely, too," he admitted.

Felice looked him over. "You must have to work at it."

"I was a real maniac when I was younger. Small towns never forget."

"What did you do, kill somebody?"

Max mulled it over and said, "You may as well hear it from me." He took a deep breath and recited, "When I was in third grade I groped a girl on the playground. She understandably caused this huge scene and my mother had to go to the school and then went around and apologized to the other kids' parents and the whole thing. After that..." He made a throwing away gesture. "Lonely."

"That's horrible!"

"I know, and I don't know what came over me. I've never done anything like that before or since. Please don't hold it against me? Please? I'm so, so sorry."

Felice looked angry, but it was with a soft voice that she said, "Not you, you goof. Them."

He didn't dare hope she was right. "It's all over and done with."

"No it isn't. That was... Damn, that was nine years ago? Did you hurt the girl or something?"

He shook his head vigorously and hastily replied, "Oh, no. She gave me a black eye." He was proud that he'd taken his punishment.