New Release Sample: SEMI-PSEUDO-SUPERHEROES

"How should I act? Like a spoiled brat arrogant snot who thinks she should run the world, and just makes herself look like a brainless twit?"

"Like you?" Harry added.

Sylvia let out a steam whistle shriek and launched herself at me. How unfair was that? Harry said it. She never would have realized I was talking about her until he said it.

Someone must have been teaching Sylvia boxing. She got in a good right hook between my left temple and eye socket before I realized she was getting physical. Sylvia hadn't tried to inflict capital punishment on those who crossed her since fifth grade.

While I didn't use my telekinetic power to shove her away, pin her to the wall, maybe even shove her through the wall, honesty compels me to admit that Harry saved me. Maybe he had a little ability to fly, or least do the long jump fast, and hard. He body-slammed Sylvia from behind while she was spinning around and coming back in for another strike. I was still catching my breath and seeing stars. Then suddenly the male five percent of the faculty and staff stormed into the room and got hold of Sylvia.

*****

I couldn't wait to get home and report to the "We loathe Sylvia Grandstone club." It wasn't really an official group, although a number of people in our graduating class confessed they had looked into voodoo dolls and sending requests to the State Department to keep her from coming back into the country.

No, that wasn't very mature of me. It also wasn't very mature that I let Mum and Pop praise me for not using my powers to slam Sylvia into the wall, or through a window, or just hold her up in the air and spin her around like a WWE wrestling champion. I didn't use my telekinesis because I didn't get a chance. Ten-plus years of self-imposed "never use our talents where other people can see" made me hesitate. Even when it came to a chance to work out my frustrations on Sylvia Grandstone and get payback for all my friends at school.

So I really didn't deserve any of the kudos I got. Sympathy for my black eye, yes, I earned that. Praise for not slamming that spoiled brat snot into a greasy makeup smear on the stone wall of the chapel? Nope.