Ch. 9 Week 7

Lawrence didn’t think he was going to have any trouble passing his aptitude test. He was so nervous there wasn’t a single small object in the conference room that wasn’t moving. The fake plant in the corner quivered slightly, and he had set a pencil spinning in the air in front of him. When the door opened Lawrence jumped, and the pencil flew through the air, burying itself halfway into the plaster wall next to the doorjamb. Valkyrie glanced at the pencil and stepped into the room. “Anymore surprises?” she asked.

“Sorry.” Lawrence grabbed at the fluttering pages of his Calculus book sitting in front of him. Behind Valkyrie was a squat, indeterminate person of either gender. The dwarf was dressed in an off-white tunic and loose pants and wore his or her hair in a long grey plait.

“This is the Golden Swami,” Valkyrie introduced.

“Pleased to meet you,” the Swami said with a slight Indian accent and Lawrence was relieved to hear a distinctly female voice coming from her throat, and also noticed dangling gold earrings and a glittering nose stud that suggested that she was indeed a woman. “So you are The Kinetic Professor?” She struggled into a too-tall chair.

“Yes.”

She had a large bag with her and she opened it and began to set out objects
in front of her--a baseball, a few hand weights of various sizes, an orange. She spoke as she unpacked the bag. “When did you first notice your powers?”

“Um, fourteen.”

“Do you remember the circumstances in which they were revealed?”

He felt himself color behind his mask. “Yes, but I’d rather not talk about it.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she offered. “Masturbation is a healthy part of any normal sex drive.” Before he could respond she continued. “How often do you practice?” He stared at her. “Your telekinetic abilities. How often do you practice them?”

“Oh, um, sometimes if I don’t feel like getting up I’ll use them to get a book or something…I guess haven’t had a lot of practice.”

“This shouldn’t take long then,” she said, pursing her lips. Lawrence was able to roll the baseball across the table and lift the one and two pound weights, but that was about it.

“Peel the orange,” The Swami ordered.

“Peel it? With my mind?”

“Of course.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Try.” Lawrence stared stupidly at the orange. He knew how to move things. He couldn’t dismantle something just by thinking it. He tried to do as she asked, but only succeeded in floating it a foot off the table. “I can’t,” he said finally, and the orange bounced off the table and hit the floor.

A moment later the orange was hovering in the middle of the table. Lawrence watched as the peel began to pull away from the fruit in a neat spiral and fall to the table. The Swami let the peeled orange drop down in front of her and suddenly the segments of orange simply fell away from each other, perfectly dissected. The Swami picked up one of the sections and popped it into her mouth. “You need to stop being afraid of your talents,” she explained, a bit of orange juice squirting out between her teeth. “I will teach you.” She glanced at Valkyrie. “So much for my retirement.”

“We really appreciate your help,” Valkyrie offered.

“I like having students,” the Swami assured, still eating her orange. “Teaching touches the sadist in me.” She looked up at Lawrence. “Are you free Monday evenings?” He was running out of free evenings, but nodded anyway. “Good. Six o’ clock, room 137. Got it?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The Swami’s mouth broke into a smile. “I love it when they call me ‘ma’am.’ Make sure you practice.”

Lawrence nodded and collected up his book bag. “Very pleased to meet you,” he managed to sputter as he left the room.

America was waiting for him in the hallway. “How did it go?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I have to take classes.” He glanced at her. “What about you?”

America shrugged. “I don’t know either. I was going too fast for Stone’s radar gun.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Not to brag or anything.”

“You would never brag,” he said.

“That’s sweet of you to say,” she said, but gave him a smile that made her glow. “I am Glorious.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her. ’Glorious’ was her favorite word. “Yeah. I know you are. Let’s go get some food.” She clutched his arm tightly as they walked down the hall together, any arguments from the previous week forgotten.

“I hope Torch does okay on his,” Lawrence added.

“He’s very scatter-brained, isn’t he?” America mused. “And he doesn’t talk much, I guess because of his stutter.”

“He’s had a hard time of things. He told me a bit about his life.”

“Really?” America said with surprise. “We’re not supposed to--”

“It wasn’t anything specific,” Lawrence said. “It’s just--his life has been rough.”

They made their way to the lounge downstairs. The girls had started taking turns cooking--Lawrence knew there was a big pot of leftover chili in the fridge. He was glad of the magically renewing fridge. He didn’t have time for a job, and even though the League was paying for his school and dorm room, he was still running low on funds. He knew America was in the same situation.

He forgot about money and food as soon as they stepped into the lounge. Torch was sitting in the middle of the now-blackened love seat, staring at his hands. The skin was blistered and raw. A few scorched remnants of his clothes remained, but the fire-retardant bodysuit he wore underneath had protected the rest of him. Black stood aside holding a spent fire extinguisher. “What happened!” America ran to Torch’s side but he pulled away.

“D-don’t come any closer!” He shouted. “What are you, crazy? Do you want me to catch you on fire too?”

“He was blazing when I got here,” Black explained, setting aside the extinguisher. “I take it his assessment did not go well. This place is so screwed up--it took me forever to find an extinguisher.”

“I’m okay now,” Torch said. “You can g-go.”

“You’re not okay,” America said. “Look at your hands!”

“It happens all the time. I’ll be ok-kay.”

“No,” Lawrence agreed. “You need to go to the hospital. Those burns could
get nasty if they become infected, and you must be in a lot of pain.” He and America both took him by the shoulders and eased him up. Obviously in too much pain to protest, Torch went with them.

“We can take my car,” Black offered. “I’m parked at the loading dock out back.” Lawrence looked over at him, surprised that he had offered his assistance. The young man in the black suit and dark glasses hadn’t exactly been unfriendly, but he didn’t talk much either.

“Thank you,” Lawrence said.

Black’s car was large and black--completely unsurprising. Lawrence and Glory slid into the roomy back seat with Torch between them. Lawrence hoped that now someone was taking care of him, Torch was of no danger to anyone.

When they got to the hospital Black drove past the emergency entrance. “Um, we were supposed to pull in back there,” Lawrence offered.

“Because four people in masks and costumes would be a normal thing to see in the emergency room,” Black replied. Lawrence decided not to point out that Black looked like a government spook, not a super hero.

Black pulled up to a nondescript door on the side of the building. There was no sign, and when Lawrence pulled on the door it was locked. Black pushed a button on the intercom next to the door. “Ms. X sent us,” he said, and the door buzzed open.

“How did you know about this?” America asked, struggling with Lawrence to hold up Torch. Apparently he had gone into shock at some point during the ride, and was barely walking.

“The important thing is now you know too,” he said. An orderly appeared right inside the doorway with a wheelchair and helped Torch into it. The three heroes followed them into a small but well decorated lobby. The orderly wheeled Torch through a set of double doors, but instead of following Lawrence stopped to take in the place.

Black immediately tossed himself into one of the chairs and picked up a magazine. Lawrence took America by the hand and they walked up to the registration desk. “What is this place?” he asked the receptionist.

She blinked at him. “Why the League’s private hospital of course,” she said. “What happened to your friend?”

“He caught himself on fire.”

“Ah. He must be Torch,” she said, turning to her computer. “We were warned that we had a pyrokinetic in the training program.”

“Come sit down,” Black called without looking up from his magazine. “Have some coffee.” Lawrence noted an expensive coffee machine on a table, along with a tray of pastries and muffins.

“Why didn’t Stone and Valkyrie tell us about this place?” America asked Black, while Lawrence still wondered how Black knew.

“We’re not in the league yet,” Black said. “They’re not going to tell us all their secrets, now are they?”

“I think a secret hospital is one they should have let us in on,” America said, a hard edge to her voice.

“I’m not going to disagree,” Black replied.

“I hate all this secrecy!” America burst out suddenly. “It’s not fair!”

“No, it isn’t fair,” Black agreed, still not looking up.

America bit back a scream of frustration. Lawrence grabbed her by the hand and pulled her way. She gripped his hand too tightly. “Why don’t you go do a few laps around the building?” he suggested.

“Why?”

“To calm down?” In her eyes he could see defiance, but eventually she conceded.

“Okay. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

“I’ll check on Torch,” he told her, and America left through the way they came. Lawrence glanced at the receptionist, who was working on her computer, so he stepped through the double doors.

The doors opened into a small area with a few beds in it and branched into two hallways. Someone in nurse scrubs went into a room down one hall, so Lawrence followed. Torch was laying in the bed still in his costume, a woman in a white coat examining his hands. “Is he going to be okay?” Lawrence demanded.

The doctor looked up. “It’s not so bad. Second degree, probably. But he’s had them before.”

Torch nodded slightly. They already had an IV in his arm. “It’s okay,” he told Lawrence. “I’m used to it.” He let his head fall back on the bed. “What’s a little more scar tissue?”

“We’ll keep him here for a day or two, just to make sure,” the doctor continued. “He’ll be fine.”

“Do you want us to stay?” Lawrence asked Torch.

“They gave me morphine--I’m good.”

Lawrence smiled through his worry. “You’re not stuttering.”

“That happens on morphine,” Torch said. “Really, I’m fine. Go on.” Lawrence turned to leave. “Hey, KP?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. And thank Black for putting me out. It was really decent of him.”

“Sure thing. America and I will come check on you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

******

Glory started with a few laps around the building, but after nearly colliding with an ambulance she slowed down and widened her loop to include the whole block, moving slow enough that people could at least see her, and she instinctually moved around them with no problem. She didn’t know how Black knew about the hospital, and she didn’t care. She only cared that she didn’t know about it. She could understand them not being allowed into headquarters right away, but this was medical care. It was important. What if they had gone to the normal emergency room and Torch had burnt his face and they cut his mask off? What would have happened then?

She ran for about half an hour, but her anger had not cooled, when, going past Black’s car, KP’s arm shot out and caught her, nearly knocking the wind out of her. “Sorry,” he offered. “I tried calling your name the last time you passed, but you didn’t seem to hear me.”

“I was thinking.”

“Torch is going to be okay,” he said. “They’re keeping him overnight
though. Let’s go.”

“I think I’ll just run home.” She looked away from the hurt expression on his face. “I’m sorry, I know you’re stressed too, but I need to run this out. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” he said, and she kissed him to make up for it. “Call me later.” He climbed into the passenger seat of Black’s car, and America began to run again, this time straight--straight through the city and into the suburbs before her anger abated, and she was too tired to run back. She fished her cell phone out of her pocket and called Lola for a ride, sitting down under a tree in someone’s front yard to wait.

A/N:
So sorry for last week! This is last weeks update, today, which should have been up last week, except I had the plague and its finals and everything is a mess.

This week's chapter will be up either later today or monday, depending on how my english lit class goes.