Six

                                    

                                          
GRACE
As I stared at the sign displayed in the window of a quaint coffee shop in the rural area, my attention became fixated, and my stomach rumbled with anticipation. The left side of the shop showcased a counter adorned with freshly baked treats and a station where the baristas worked their magic, while the right side boasted an array of chairs, tables, and shelves filled with used books.
"Excuse me, are you currently hiring?" I asked the barista behind the counter, a muscular gentleman with the nametag John pinned to his sweater. 
He had a sheepish demeanor, sported thick-rimmed glasses, and possessed mesmerizing forest-green eyes. He greeted me with a friendly smile and extended his hand for a handshake.
"Do you have any specific skills?" he inquired, flashing a perfectly aligned set of pearly white teeth, his forest-green eyes studying me intently.
"I'm open to anything," I replied, sitting at one table.
"Have you had any experience in the food industry?" he asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.
"To be honest, I haven't had a job before," I confessed, admiring his strong arms wiping down the counters.
"Well, we might have a position for you. Have you ever worked a cash register before?" he questioned, causing me to roll my eyes at his assumption.
"Do you think I'm incapable of operating a register?" I retorted.
"I didn't mean it that way," he quickly backtracked. "Why don't you come back tomorrow morning when Harrison will be here, and we can start your training?"
"Sounds good," I muttered, desperate for any job. John removed his apron, grabbed a pen and a napkin, and disappeared through the swinging double doors. He returned a few moments later, placing the items on the table.
"Write your information, and I'll be back to check on you in five minutes. Can I get you something to drink?"
"How about a hot cocoa?" I suggested, craving a comforting beverage that wouldn't exacerbate my heightened abilities.
John looked amused. "I pegged you for an iced coffee with creamer kind of girl."
"You're quite judgmental, aren't you?" I teased.
"I apologize," he said, reaching for the pen and napkin. "I was only kidding. I'll prepare your hot cocoa, which'll be ready in a minute. Explore the cafe while you wait."
"Thanks, mate," I replied with a grateful smile. A sense of unease washed over me as I took in the surroundings. I hoped this job opportunity could offer me an escape from the difficult situation with my uncle.
∆∆∆
JAMES
Derek knelt and stretched his calves as he approached. We walked through a quiet neighborhood three miles from downtown, halfway into the city.
"What's on your mind?" I asked.
"I was just about to ask you the same thing," he replied, exhaling audibly.
"You know how you and Sam know my secret, but Dad has no clue?" I asked. Derek sighed in acknowledgment as we continued down the block.
"I'm pretty sure he knows. He's just not ready to accept it yet. Remember when you were eight, and he caught both of us in the garage? You lifted his car, and that's how the back bumper got smashed in." I shook my head, but for a moment, I could picture a younger Derek standing next to me.
Derek and I sneaked into the back garage door when I was eight and he was about twelve. Our dad was napping in the living room foyer, and we were looking for something to do.
We noticed our dad's police cruiser parked in the middle of the garage. We knew touching his car would make him furious, but curiosity got the better of us.
"I bet you can't lift the back of Dad's car," Derek challenged, pointing to the end of the cruiser.
"You owe me a week's allowance if I can," I countered.
"Deal, but you have to use your super strength. It doesn't count if you use your—what was that long word Sam used to describe your floating thing?"
"I think it's telekinetic or something like that," I shrugged.
"That's right," Derek nodded. I lifted the car's rear bumper, causing it to screech and bend as it rose off the ground.
"Wow!" Derek's eyes widened with amusement. The garage door was partially open, and Mr. Simpson, a fit thirty-five-year-old man who lived a few blocks away, peered inside wide-eyed, staring at me.
"How much milk do you drink, kid?" His voice dripped with bold curiosity. Derek and I chuckled.
"Hi, Mr. Simpson." Derek waved at him and covered his lips with his index finger. "Don't tell our father." Mr. Simpson shook his head and continued, his flip-flops slapping against the floor. I lifted the car even higher until the front end hovered above the ground.
Footsteps pounded inside. Derek panicked, and I maintained my hold, raising the car higher and higher. My astonished father froze, muttering a four-letter word under his breath as a coffee mug slipped from his grip in slow motion while the back door swung wide open. Derek panicked, and I abruptly slammed the car's rear end back down, bouncing on the tires as I turned to face my bewildered father.
"He knows?" I murmured to myself more than to Derek.
"Take a seat." Derek gestured towards the curb, and I obliged. We sat on the roadside as he spoke to me like any good brother would.
"James, you can do the impossible, and sometimes, when people don't want to believe that the impossible can happen, they ignore it to protect you and your safety, just like Dad is doing. You may be invincible, James, but I've seen it. You can get hurt, and I don't want to witness that, and neither do Dad nor Sam. That's why Dad doesn't want to believe you have powers."
"I think you're right," I acknowledged, knowing Derek's advice was usually spot-on. With a success rate of 99.9%, I rarely disregarded his input. "Thanks, Derek," I added as we continued walking down the road, maintaining a similar pace.
We both glanced upward to see a figure hurtling toward the ground. The person descended rapidly. Their identity was concealed beneath a hood. Instead of landing gracefully, they crashed onto the pavement, creating a powerful impact that could have triggered an earthquake. Yet, the ground remained still, and the hooded individual lay motionless.
Derek and I exchanged glances before rushing over to the unconscious figure. "What should we do?" I asked, trying to identify the person without removing their hood.
"I need to call for help. Can you stay here and monitor them?" Derek responded.
"I'll be fine," I replied, gently prodding the unconscious person. To my relief, they were still breathing. It astonished me that someone could survive a fall from over thirty feet in the sky. Suddenly, the person groaned, and I turned to Derek.
"Keep me updated," I instructed him. Derek knelt to support the person's head before nodding in my direction. As time seemed to slow down, I raced home, accelerating with incredible speed until I was at my front door in the blink of an eye.