Max may seem like a quiet person, but his footsteps are about as loud as an elephant trying to tap dance. A very large elephant. With absolutely zero balance.
The alarm I have set to wake me up for school goes off at six thirty. And yet, at five forty-two, I was awoken by Max and his gigantic fricking feet.
Max and I are usually pretty patient with each other, but I was looking forward to soaking in as much sleep as I could before this three day weekend was up. He could've tip-toed, or, I don't know, flown down the hallway, but he decided to make a racket. So as you can assume, I was a bit cranky.
Bracing myself on my dresser, I hobbled over to my bedroom door.
"Max!" I whispered as loud as I possibly could. I didn't want to wake our mother. But with Max stomping around the house, she's probably been awake for hours.
"What?" he called. The word was said quickly, as if I'd caught him off guard.
I peered around the corner.
Max stood there in his spandex suit, nervously twisting his mask in his hands.
"Please don't tell mom." He whispered so quietly, I had to read his lips to figure out what he had said.
We stood there for awhile, neither of us speaking.
When Max was ten, he won our school's spelling bee. He was to receive an award during the next morning's assembly. Max ran to the stage, a giant, lopsided, and nearly toothless grin plastered on his face. The principal shook his hand, and told him that he wished him luck at regionals the following Friday. But everyone could tell that Max wasn't nearly excited as he had been before. And for the rest of the time he stood up there, Max's smile was no longer lopsided. Only seven at the time, I knew he was faking his enjoyment. Because Max Owens refused to miss school for anything. Not even the spelling bee.
"Max," I started.
Max stopped fidgeting with his mask, and looked up at me. He seemed to be afraid. But afraid of what, I did not know.
"It's not worth it," I protested. "Someone else can save Illinois. Please, just..."
Max walked over to me, bending down so his eyes were level with my own.
"It's not worth it," I repeated, quieter this time.
A smile tugged at Max's lips, but his eyes still revealed his worry.
"Someone else can save Illinois," he began,
"But I have to save our family."
I shook my head. "Max, you don't need to play the hero all the time. We'll be okay. I promise."
We stood there in silence for a moment or two. Then, Max hugged me, and slipped his mask over his eyes.
"Just... tell mom I left early to work on my lab for chem."
"Max-"
But he was already out the door.
YOU ARE READING
Heroes at Heart
General Fiction"I've tried telling them I'm only fifteen. That no sane government would force a boy my age to fight crime. 'But Max, you're a superhero! Isn't this what you want?' Actually, no. I just kind of want to get through high school. Then we'll talk about...
