Super Jaded (4/23)

Chapter 4: Party

“So who’s the first person you saved?” asked Fern as we toweled off together after our bath. She bent over to fluff her long, chestnut tresses.

I laughed. “Melissa Hoiburg. She was a soccer player at my high school. Pretty good looking too.”

That caught Fern’s attention, her eyes flashing as she rose and grabbed her bra from beside the tub. “Good looking, huh. Should I be jealous?”

I bit my lip mischievously. “Well, as adolescent fantasies go, she was a rather delicious one…”

Fern’s eyes bulged in surprise as she listened. She searched my face to see whether I was serious, her slim brows narrowing. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” I confessed with a crooked grin.

“You bitch,” she said, punching me hard in the shoulder before grimacing in pain and rubbing her bruised knuckles. “Now you owe me the whole story!”

“Fine,” I sighed. I’d never really told anyone this story, but if Fern wanted to hear it, I would tell it. I would do anything to make her happy.

“So I was 16 and living with those horrible foster parents I was telling you about, when I went to this party on a Friday night.”

“A house party?” asked Fern, looking around for her clothes.

“Yeah,” I replied, locating my own garments and dressing myself at super speed before she could ask her next question.

“Was there drinking?” Fern asked, a glint in her eye.

“Yeah,” I admitted thoughtfully, adjusting my top at the shoulders. “There was.”

“Then I approve,” Fern announced, slipping her panties over her rounded hips until they snapped into place.

I laughed. “You’re such a bad girl, Fern.”

“I try,” she winked playfully, wrapping her hair in a towel turban to dry it.

“I was in the back yard with a boy…”

“A boy?!” Fern gasped, pausing with her top held before her beautifully toned abs, readying to put it on. She stared at me questioningly.

I sighed. “Honestly, Fern. Are you going to interrupt me every five seconds or are you going to let me tell my story here?!”

“Sorry,” said Fern sheepishly, pulling her blouse over her head before extracting her hair from its collar. “I’ll shut up now.”

I smiled, giving her a quick peck on the cheek as her head emerged from the neck hole of her shirt before continuing. “So I was with this boy. I was pretty sure he was interested in me. I mean, by this time, after two years of the serum working on my body, I was pretty good-looking.”

Fern’s wide eyes were rapt as she stared at me. She seemed to be imagining my 16-year-old self—I knew her well enough to deduce the meaning of the dreamy smile she wore. Though she was also clearly still curious as to the reason I’d be with a boy at a high school party.

“I was doing my best to be interested in him too. He was a black-leather, bad-boy type—exactly the kind of guy my foster parents wouldn’t approve of. That was really all I was looking for at the time.”

Fern nodded, suddenly remembering her pants. She slid them over her long, sculpted calves. God, Fern’s legs were gorgeous. But I resisted the urge to touch her silky flesh and refocused on relaying my tale.

“I had tried to get a tattoo, but the artist couldn’t pierce my skin with the needle. Then I’d tried to get piercings, but those didn’t work either. Downsides of invulnerability, I guess.” I shrugged. “I was a pretty screwed up kid after Grandpa died. I wasn’t too fond of my overzealous foster parents, though in retrospect they really weren’t all that bad. But I just wanted to rebel. Unfortunately, my damn body made it impossible.”

Fern frowned as she wiggled her athletic hips into her tight jeans and buttoned them.

“In some ways I was pleased with my body. I was getting really pretty, and I knew I was stronger than normal, though I didn’t really understand how much stronger. I never really tested myself.” I felt my eyes grow distant, unfocused. “Didn’t want to. My own body was like a constant reminder of Grandpa’s death, I think. That made me hate what I’d become. Hate myself, I guess. It was my fault, what happened to Grandpa. I mean, if it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have died.”

Fern’s eyes softened, going glassy. She zipped up her jeans, then hauled me in for a long, loving embrace.

“You know that’s not true,” she whispered into my ear. “It had nothing to do with you. You were sick, and he was just trying to help you. He loved you. I’m sure that he would feel that you’ve exceeded his wildest hopes. He’d be so proud of you.”

I felt a tear roll down my left cheek. I nodded, knowing she was probably right, but my heart couldn’t fully accept the words. It almost could, but not quite. Not completely. My chin burrowed into the crook of her neck as I held her tight.

“I know,” I rasped, a lump of emotion the size of a small car firmly lodged in my throat. I held her for a long moment, enjoying the feel of her shapely body against my own in spite of my unromantic state of mind, before wiping away my tears.

Fern gave me a moment after we parted. I sniffed a few times. Swallowed a few more. Then continued when I could speak properly again.

“So anyway,” my voice wavered a little at first, but as I continued my story, it grew more confident. “The guy leaned in to kiss me, and I kissed him back.”

Fern rubbed circles on my back for a moment, the feeling more comforting than she probably knew.

“I didn’t really have any friends at school. Most of the girls were intimidated by my looks, and I stayed away from them. Guys would hit on me but none of them really seemed interested in being my friend. It was probably my fault. I was pretty standoffish. I didn’t want to be around them, and they picked up on that, I think. The only reason I gave that one guy—Skinks, they called him—the time of day was that I knew my ‘parents’ would hate him.”

Fern guided me out of the bathroom, unspeaking, offering me a seat at the kitchen counter, which I took before continuing my tale.

“I’d heard other girls talking about how amazing kissing felt. Tingles and chills and whatever. But I didn’t feel any of that with him, and I was so disappointed. His lips just felt wet. Kinda slimy.”

Fern put a kettle on the stove and turned on the burner.

“I thought I was doing it wrong. Or that maybe he was. So I kissed him again, trying different stuff that I’d heard people talking about. Tongue and whatever. But it still didn’t feel like everyone said it should.”

Fern continued to listen but not interrupt, pulling two mugs out of the cabinet and sprinkling tea leaves in the bottom of each.

“Then, he slipped his hand under my shirt and started touching my breasts. It made me uncomfortable, so I shoved him away. He started puffing out his chest and getting all mad, calling me a tease and a cold bitch, when we both heard a scream.”

Fern paused from her tea-making activities and gave me a wide-eyed stare, hanging on my words. I couldn’t help but smile. Fern was so adorable. Only she would be this interested in an ancient story from my past.

“So we turned and saw Melissa Hoiburg hanging onto the railing of this treehouse, the big branch beneath it cracking. The treehouse came loose from where it was attached to the branch and slid down, putting even more pressure on the branch.”

The kettle began to whistle, and Fern took it off the burner, pouring the boiling water into each of the two cups.

“Anyway, the branch broke completely, and the treehouse fell to the ground, pinning Melissa underneath. A bunch of guys ran over to it and tried to lift it off, but it was heavy, and the branch had been buried pretty deep into the ground. They couldn’t budge the thing.”

Fern blew on the cups of tea, rippling the water at their surface, before handing me a softly steaming cup.

“So I got up, leaving Skinks behind just as the guys gave up trying to move the house and told people to call 911. I could hear Melissa whimpering softly underneath, though I don’t think anyone else could.” I pointed to my ear. “Superhearing, I guess. It made me feel bad for her. So I took the guys’ place, crouched down, slipped my fingers under the house, and lifted. The building began to rise, the deeply buried branch coming out of the soil. It was the first time I realized just how strong I had really become. Stronger than a dozen or so guys, at least, by then.”

Fern blew on her tea again, then took a sip, her eyes never leaving mine, clearly eager to hear the rest of the story.

“I gave it a hard push, and it flew several feet into the air, then landed a few feet beyond Melissa. I gave her a hand up. As soon as she got to her feet, she hugged me.”

I took a big gulp of the tea. The boiling water couldn’t burn me. It felt soothing as it warmed the inside of my body.

“And that’s when I felt the tingle. Not in my lips ‘cause we didn’t kiss. But in my breasts as they touched hers.”

The corners of Fern’s lips twitched upward as she watched me.

“Anyway, it didn’t last long, but I liked it while it did. I didn’t understand what it meant then. Not until a couple of years later.”

Fern rounded the kitchen counter to squeeze my shoulder, still holding her cup of tea.

“Everyone cheered, and, for the first time, I felt like I was accepted by everyone else,” I said quietly. “I liked it.”

Fern leaned her head against mine, and I reached around her slender waist to pull her closer toward me for a sumptuous kiss.