The Superhero's Son (Book 1): The Superhero's Test by Lucas Flint Page A
Authors: Lucas Flint
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updates about him for a while.”
“Last I heard, he is still in the hospital recovering from that freak air bomb accident,” said Malcolm, glancing at the wall that Robert had been punched through, which had since been repaired. “No one knows when he's going to get out.”
I nodded in relief. “I wonder if he'll ever be able to walk again after that.”
“Dunno,” said Malcolm with a shrug as he ate some of his macaroni. “Maybe he'd be less of a bully if he couldn't walk on his own two legs. All I've heard is that he's gone crazy.”
I frowned. “Crazy? How?”
“Just something I overheard from one of his friends when I got to school earlier,” said Malcolm. “Robert's apparently been ranting about how 'the new kid' nearly killed him with one punch. His doctors apparently think the explosion of the bomb harmed his brain, which means they might put him in a mental ward if he gets worse. Pretty crazy, huh?”
I nodded again and tried not to show any fear, but it was hard. I knew that Robert had been the only person in the school to avoid Dad's memory-wiping gauntlet. I had hoped, however, that punching him through the wall of the cafeteria would have harmed his memory, but if Malcolm was telling the truth, then Robert remembered full well how he had really ended up in the hospital.
Of course, it sounded like no one really believed him, but how long would it take for someone to make the connection between his rantings and my appearance as Bolt, which was now on the Internet for everyone to see?
That was it. If I was going to make sure that I kept my identity a secret, I would have to go to Robert's hospital room and use Dad's gauntlet to wipe his memory of me punching him through the cafeteria wall.
After, of course, Dad killed me for doing the exact thing I wasn't supposed to do and got caught on camera doing it.
Chapter Nine
W hen I got home after school—far too fast for my tastes, because this time, there weren't any convenience stores being robbed that I could use as an excuse for being late—Dad was sitting in the living room, although he was not in his Genius costume. Instead, he wore his usual blue button down shirt and black slacks, his horn-rimmed glasses reflecting the video playing on the tablet he held in his hands.
Stopping in the entrance to the living room, with my backpack slung over my shoulder, I tried to look as casual and innocent as possible. Dad didn't seem to have noticed me yet, but I knew that was bull, because Dad was always aware of his surroundings even if you weren't.
“So, uh …” I said, my voice trailing off as I tried to figure out what to say. “I'm home from school.”
Dad didn't look up at me; he reminded me of Tara, actually, with the way he focused on the tablet, which was similar to how she focused on her smartphone. He just said, “Kevin, please come in and sit down. There's something I want to talk with you about.”
There it was. That was Dad's 'I'm-not-angry-just-disappointed' tone. He only used it whenever I really disappointed him.
Part of me wanted to run into my room and hide in there, but I walked into the living room nonetheless and plopped into the large armchair to the left of the couch. I placed my backpack on the floor, but then Dad looked at me, disappointment obvious behind his eyes.
“Kevin, do you remember what I told you during our training?” said Dad. “About what you should never use your powers to do?”
I couldn't meet Dad's gaze, even though I wasn't ashamed of the good things I had done today. “Not show them off to impress girls.”
Dad sighed. “No, the other thing you should never use your powers for.”
“Fight crime,” I said, again without looking Dad in the eyes.
“Exactly,” said Dad. “So why did you do exactly that? And why does everyone on the Internet now know your name?”
“They don't know my real name,” I said. “Just my superhero name.”
“That's not the point,” said Dad, shaking his
“Last I heard, he is still in the hospital recovering from that freak air bomb accident,” said Malcolm, glancing at the wall that Robert had been punched through, which had since been repaired. “No one knows when he's going to get out.”
I nodded in relief. “I wonder if he'll ever be able to walk again after that.”
“Dunno,” said Malcolm with a shrug as he ate some of his macaroni. “Maybe he'd be less of a bully if he couldn't walk on his own two legs. All I've heard is that he's gone crazy.”
I frowned. “Crazy? How?”
“Just something I overheard from one of his friends when I got to school earlier,” said Malcolm. “Robert's apparently been ranting about how 'the new kid' nearly killed him with one punch. His doctors apparently think the explosion of the bomb harmed his brain, which means they might put him in a mental ward if he gets worse. Pretty crazy, huh?”
I nodded again and tried not to show any fear, but it was hard. I knew that Robert had been the only person in the school to avoid Dad's memory-wiping gauntlet. I had hoped, however, that punching him through the wall of the cafeteria would have harmed his memory, but if Malcolm was telling the truth, then Robert remembered full well how he had really ended up in the hospital.
Of course, it sounded like no one really believed him, but how long would it take for someone to make the connection between his rantings and my appearance as Bolt, which was now on the Internet for everyone to see?
That was it. If I was going to make sure that I kept my identity a secret, I would have to go to Robert's hospital room and use Dad's gauntlet to wipe his memory of me punching him through the cafeteria wall.
After, of course, Dad killed me for doing the exact thing I wasn't supposed to do and got caught on camera doing it.
Chapter Nine
W hen I got home after school—far too fast for my tastes, because this time, there weren't any convenience stores being robbed that I could use as an excuse for being late—Dad was sitting in the living room, although he was not in his Genius costume. Instead, he wore his usual blue button down shirt and black slacks, his horn-rimmed glasses reflecting the video playing on the tablet he held in his hands.
Stopping in the entrance to the living room, with my backpack slung over my shoulder, I tried to look as casual and innocent as possible. Dad didn't seem to have noticed me yet, but I knew that was bull, because Dad was always aware of his surroundings even if you weren't.
“So, uh …” I said, my voice trailing off as I tried to figure out what to say. “I'm home from school.”
Dad didn't look up at me; he reminded me of Tara, actually, with the way he focused on the tablet, which was similar to how she focused on her smartphone. He just said, “Kevin, please come in and sit down. There's something I want to talk with you about.”
There it was. That was Dad's 'I'm-not-angry-just-disappointed' tone. He only used it whenever I really disappointed him.
Part of me wanted to run into my room and hide in there, but I walked into the living room nonetheless and plopped into the large armchair to the left of the couch. I placed my backpack on the floor, but then Dad looked at me, disappointment obvious behind his eyes.
“Kevin, do you remember what I told you during our training?” said Dad. “About what you should never use your powers to do?”
I couldn't meet Dad's gaze, even though I wasn't ashamed of the good things I had done today. “Not show them off to impress girls.”
Dad sighed. “No, the other thing you should never use your powers for.”
“Fight crime,” I said, again without looking Dad in the eyes.
“Exactly,” said Dad. “So why did you do exactly that? And why does everyone on the Internet now know your name?”
“They don't know my real name,” I said. “Just my superhero name.”
“That's not the point,” said Dad, shaking his
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