Super Powereds: Year 1 (13 page)

“Nah,” Vince replied. “I’ve got a thing for girls in grey workout shorts, so you’re still narrowly in the lead.”

Sasha laughed then looked at what she was wearing. For the first time all morning she became all too aware of just how well her shorts lived up to their name, and the fact that her tight pink shirt wasn’t being hampered by the presence of a bra. The thought riding on the coattails of the previous two was the realization that Vince must be just as aware of these things.

“Ready for food in five!” Sasha yelped as she moved past Vince in a blur and slammed the door to her bedroom behind her. Vince wished he could have seen her mad dash for cover, but that was the sacrifice you made when you hit on a girl with super speed.

20.

Nick had never suspected he would be grateful for assigned seating, but as he took his desk at the end of the row next to a short boy with messy hair, Nick did take a moment to thank his lucky stars. It wasn’t that he preferred aisle seats- he had a feeling that no position in the room would liven up Ethics of Heroism - but it did make things a bit easier on him. Nick had known when he chose the cover persona of a happy-go-lucky, chatter-happy dimwit that there would be certain concessions involved. One that he hadn’t counted on grating as much as it did was the need to be around his fellow dorm mates constantly, seeking them out and keeping conversations aloft. He’d vested ample time with Vince, but the others were a bit more difficult to wrangle, and of course Mary was a lost cause. Thus, if he had been able to choose his own seat, he would have been forced by his own sense of commitment to take one near his fellow Melbrook residents. Being placed on the end away from them allowed him a measure of alone time without offending his actor’s sensibilities.

Nick extracted a binder and a pen from his bag and turned to an untouched section. He already had notes from his economics and accounting classes that morning, so this was his last mind-stretcher of the day. Afterwards came gym, whatever that entailed, and then he would be done with his first day of college. It was pleasant of them to have put it on a Friday at least, allowing the students a chance to acclimate to the town around Lander.

Nick perused the room, taking cursory notes and finding the positions of the others from his dorm. Hershel had finally popped back up that morning, and he was easy to spot as he waded through the rows, awkwardly trying to find his spot. The others took a few minutes to locate since the room was full of the freshman class, all clad in their black uniforms. He managed to locate the final one, Mary, just as the door opened and Dean Blaine walked into the front of the room.

“Good morning, class,” Dean Blaine said with a large smile. “As all of you will hopefully remember, my name is Dean Blaine, and I will be teacher for Ethics of Heroism. And before anyone asks, no, you aren’t getting special treatment. I consider it my personal pleasure to instruct the new freshmen every year, helping them to understand not just what we do, but why it is so important that we do it.”

A hand went up quickly. The class’s suck-up, no doubt. Nick knew there would be one: there always was, and of course they couldn’t wait to identify themselves by asking the first question. There was no surprise in Nick that someone was already drawing attention to themselves. What did surprise him was the voice of the question asker. He chided himself for not having anticipated someone that obvious.

“So does that mean you and the two coaches make up the entirety of the Hero Certification Program’s staff?” Alice asked once Dean Blaine pointed to her.

“Certainly not,” Dean Blaine assured her. “There are several more professors on staff here, though you won’t be working under any of them until sophomore year.”

“Why not?” This time the question came from a tall girl with her hair pulled back tightly into a braid. She didn’t bother to raise her hand.

“Well, simply put, you wouldn’t gain anything from them yet,” Dean Blaine explained. “You see, freshman year of this program is the year that we ready your minds and bodies for what is to come over the following three. This is the year that you get the basics, and it’s the year we see how many of you have the determination to see our program through to the end. The other professors will be working with you on more specialized programs, programs that you don’t have the groundwork for yet.”

“See it through?” Alice shot the tall girl who apparently didn’t believe in the courtesy of the hand raise a dirty look.

“Yes,” said Dean Blaine. “The training here is rather grueling, and many who think they want to pursue this line of work soon change their minds once they experience it. The dropout rate of the Hero Certification Program is approximately sixty-five percent. That does not include students who are cut by the staff, either; that number only represents voluntary departures.”

The tall girl let out a low whistle, but ceased her questioning of the dean.

“Anyway,” Dean Blaine continued. “As all of you should know, this will be the only Friday that we meet. Normally this class will only be on Tuesdays and Thursdays, with the other three days allotted for personal study. I’m sure most of you are counting on that as a free period, but I assure you, it is time you should cherish. That is a boon we only provide to the freshmen, to help ease the transition. Now then, on to the syllabus.”

There was a collective sigh that rippled through the class. No one groaned, but it was close.

Dean Blaine laughed. “Same reaction every year. Forgive my little joke, but there won’t be a syllabus. This is a discussion class, one for which you will be graded on participation and attendance, but written work doesn’t really mesh with the subject matter we’re covering. If I asked you for a paper on why Heroes give themselves and their careers to protecting the safety of the people, you’d just be up all night writing words. When I ask you that question, which I will, incidentally, I want to look you in the eye and hear what you really think. So come prepared to talk and think, but otherwise you won’t need anything but your wit.”

That was a relief to almost everyone else in the class. Nick swore inwardly. Now he’d have to bluff the dean at least twice a week. Of course, he could always answer honestly, but Nick was smarter than he appeared, at least smart enough to know that was a dumb idea. The views Nick had been raised with didn’t correlate so well with the rest of society’s values. The truth had its place, and it was called a deathbed.

“That brings us to the matter of today. I’m sure many of you are anxious to be off to the next class and find out what gym is all about,” Dean Blaine said. There were a few enthusiastic nods around the room; clearly the idea of training openly with their abilities appealed to many of the students. “Well, I commend your curiosity and I’m going to reward it. Today we will be dismissing Ethics of Heroism early to give you all an extra half hour of gym. I think it will give you a proper appreciation.”

The rest of the class seemed upbeat as they stowed their binders and began rising from their seats. Nick was a bit more apprehensive. Among all of them, he seemed to be one of the few who noticed that Dean Blaine hadn’t told them what exactly they would be getting a proper appreciation of. He tried to assure himself that he was just reading into things too much.

Several hours later, when he finally had the energy to, he admonished himself for not trusting his instincts.

21.

“Two-minute break,” Coach George shouted to the freshmen.

“Oh, thank you, dear and sweet merciful lord of heaven,” Hershel gasped. Vince and Nick had a similar sentiment but lacked the breath to express it.

What the course schedule had referred to as “gym” was in fact a tortuous living hell. For the past three hours there had been nothing but nonstop physical exertion. Pushups, sit-ups, weight training, resistance training, all with running in between. There had been a total of five two-minute breaks counting this one, and the rest of the time had been spent constantly active.

Hershel cursed himself for showing up to gym. He knew it had been a stupid idea when he did it, but after the morning’s incidents, he couldn’t bear being Roy again so soon. He had imagined that he would be able to handle whatever physical activities were thrust upon him for at least one day. He had been wrong. He had been oh-so-very wrong.

The only upside was that almost no one was faring well throughout this training. Vince and Nick were both gasping for air beside him as they stopped running, and across the track he could see the girls leaning against the wall, resting with as much vigor as possible. The coaches had separated the boys and girls into two herds at opposite ends of the track, warning that dire consequences would occur if anyone fell so far behind that they wound up in the other sex’s herd. A young-looking boy with messy brown hair had been the only one so far, and Coach Persephone had swept him off to another area. No one wanted to know what he had to do.

Truthfully, though, Hershel wasn’t sure how long it would be before others followed suit. The only reason more hadn’t lagged behind was that both groups were losing speed and stamina at similar rates. Near the head of the boys’ group a bald guy was holding it together pretty well, and next to him was a boy with short blond hair who didn’t even seem to be sweating or breathing hard. Those with physical based powers were kicking ass at life today. Hershel cursed himself again. If Roy were doing this he wouldn’t need a rest at all.

“Why... why did we let Dean Blaine dismiss us early?” Vince asked as he sucked in air.

“We’re idiots,” Nick responded instantly. “He was right, though. I now have a profound appreciation for Ethics of Heroism.”

Vince and Hershel nodded their agreement. Neither would be fantasizing about another early release any time soon. Or ever, for that matter.

“Time’s up, you over-confident wimps,” Coach George yelled. It couldn’t have been two minutes. There was no way it was two minutes. Hershel felt tears welling up inside him; he couldn’t take any more of this. He was out of shape to begin with; at least the others had some semblance of stamina. Before he could actually lose control, though, Coach George hollered once more.

“Everyone run over here and take a knee.” They followed his instructions quickly, never more happy in their entire lives to sit down on the hard wooden floor than they were at that precious moment. Coach George stood in front of them and Coach Persephone came up next to him. Somewhere inside him, Hershel felt Roy stir at the sight of her. Hershel shoved him down immediately. It was bad enough he was getting dirty looks from Julia all day. The last thing he needed was to be labeled as the student who tried to bang a coach, even if it wasn’t really him that was doing it.

“You did piss poorly today,” Coach George began. “That amount of exercise shouldn’t even faze a Hero, but you all were struggling just to make it to the end. With precious few exceptions, I daresay none of you would have finished if we kept going for the extra thirty minutes.”

Hershel certainly wasn’t going to argue that point and he didn’t suspect any of the other freshmen were either.

“When this year is over, you’re going to look back on today with a sense of nostalgia for how light the workouts were. You’re going to have fantasies that when you come into class we just tell you to run most of the time. This will be the happiest day of your career in gym, because from here on out it only gets worse,” Coach George said. The scariest part of his mini-speech was that he wasn’t yelling or trying to put fear into them. He seemed to be sincerely warning them, which made it all the more terrifying.

“Now, before I hand things off to Coach Persephone to talk about how the rest of this year will work, there are two people I want to see up front. Chad Taylor and Mary Smith, get up here.”

Mary made her way slowly over to the front. She was dripping with sweat and still breathing hard, but she seemed to have held together better than many of the others, Hershel included. The boy who rose up was the short-haired blond who seemed perfectly at ease. It was as though he had been sitting in air conditioning all day; not even his hair was too ruffled. Hershel didn’t know what his ability was, but in this situation it was an awesome boon. It was humorous to see the two standing next to each other, Chad with his height and broad shoulders next to Mary’s slim frame and understated smile. If someone was looking in from the outside, they would have never guessed what those two had in common.

“Okay class, I want you to take a good look at these two. Before, they were just names, but now you’ve seen their faces. These are the two freshmen standing at the top of the heap. They are the number one ranks from both sexes, and I have to tell you, there is a large gap between them and the rest of you. So burn these faces into your minds, because from now until the end of the year your only real goal is to beat them. You have one year to get stronger, get faster, get better, and take another shot at the combat trials. In the world of Heroes if you aren’t the strongest, you’re just next in line to die. Work hard,” Coach George said. He dismissed Mary and Chad to go sit down then took a step back as Coach Persephone came to the front.

“I want to speak briefly with you about the year to come,” Coach Persephone said. “For the first semester we will be spending all three hours as we have today, only with gradually increasing intensity. This is done to give you the base endurance and strength that every Hero needs to function. After winter break, however, the format will change. We will still be spending the first two hours with physical training, but afterward we will be splitting you into two classes. They will be combat training and alternative training.”

There was a murmur among the students. What kind of training was there besides combat? Coach Persephone ignored the commotion and went straight to answering the implied question.

“Alternative training is where we will help those of you with skills ill-suited to fighting learn to use them effectively in the field. Though some of you will no doubt think that this is inferior to combat training, let me assure you that there are ways to protect the innocent for those of us who can’t throw a tank.”