An oblivious young man with his nose glued to a cell phone absently strolls through the park. Passerbys are forced to navigate out of his way. Joggers, senior citizens on walks, and mothers with strollers all side step him at the last minute, clinging to the belief that he couldn’t really be that enthralled by whatever’s on the screen.
This is Harold. Harold, by most accounts has had a shit day.
Sitting down, not because it's the courteous thing to do, but because he wants to, the preteen plops onto a nearby bench. Harold is husky and he seems all-too conscious of this, so as he gets seated comfortably he tugs down his shirt, to make sure no one can see anything they shouldn’t through the green slats that serve as the bench’s backrest.
A few minutes pass and another child sidles up, sitting beside him.
For more than a while, no words are exchanged between the two.
For more than a while, no words are exchanged between the two.
Eventually, the new boy, thin but equally meek-looking breaks the silence, “Sorry-”
“Let me save my game!” Harold holds up a finger. “I am playing versus on Battleblood, and am ranked in the top five for this skirmish.”
The thin child adjusts his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, realizing even he had little idea what most of that meant.
A few presses and swipes, “Ok, what?” Harold still doesn’t look up from his phone, not entirely, it makes the fat underneath his neck stand out even more.
“I’m sorry for what happened today.”
“Ya, you been hangin’ out with those kids?”
The thin boy nodded, blushing almost imperceptibly.
“They suck Tyler. And...and they are stupid.”
Acknowledging the statement, the Tyler nodded again. He not only agreed, but there was no hesitation in him doing so.
“Asshats,” Harold, “that’s what they are.”
Tyler, confused, “What does that even mean anyway?”
“I dunno,” Harold admits, “I picked it up somewhere, but its bad, real bad.”
“Hey, they aren’t that bad. I, we could always use more friends right?”
“Not those guys.” Harold seemed resolute.
“Maybe I could talk to ‘em, put in a good word for ya?”
Harold looked up from his phone completely.
Tyler leaned in closer, “Tell ‘em your a cool guy, tell ‘em how you have all the newest video games.”
Harold’s brief interest already faded, changed to a spark of anger. “You mean bribe them to not pick on me? Thanks Tyler, but no thanks.”
“C’mon, Harold, I still want to be friends with you...and them.”
“I don’t think it works that way.”
Tyler looked at Harold, in a way that many adults would think a child was not capable of doing. He saw a fat kid, with a red ball-cap, but redder cheeks, dressed in clothes assembled from discount retail stores. He contrasted this against the group of guys he and Harold were conversing about. “Ya, I guess you’re right. Fuck.”
Harold had never heard a kid his age say the “F” word. He had never heard Tyler swear at all. Both boys shook their heads.
“What do we do?” Tyler asked.
“Doesn’t matter- whatever you want.” Harold said, “I got things to take care of anyway.”
“Like what?” the surprise in Tyler’s question was heavy.
“Hero stuff.”
“Psshh, what are you talkin’ about?”
“I’m a superhero. I didn’t want to tell you, because I thought it might be the only reason you were my friend.”
Tyler paused for a moment, trying to gauge if Harold was trying on being crazy, or trying on being funny. When he couldn’t decide, Tyler broke out in heavy laughter. “More like Super-zero!”
Harold took the laughter and the insult from a kid who he had thought of as his best friend for 3 summers and four grades. He took it like Superman takes bullets.
Tyler looked at Harold and couldn’t believe his eyes. Suddenly, before him, the chubby kid that lived 5 houses down the street was gone.
There in front of him was an image; misty, blurry in the way that the blacktop gets from a distance on a summer day. Harold was now a wavering image of strength. His head held back high, his clothes became the bold uniform of a dealer of justice. His red hat was now a crimson mask. His untucked shirttail transformed into a cape. The discount athletic shoes had become leather boots, complemented with tiny H’s embroidered on their sides Harold’s eyes had changed the most, they seemed to dig into him, they were piercing, full of confidence and know-how.
Tyler could’ve sworn he saw a telling I-told-you-so kind of wink, but he wasn’t sure of that at all. In fact, he was no longer sure of anything.
Then right there before Tyler’s eyes, Harold took off with a bang into the air, it was like lightning combined with thunder. In an instant he was gone.
Off to do hero stuff.
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