Sal was restless. His room wasn't just a mess—it was a dumpster: several pairs of underpants, sweaty t-shirts, a pair of jeans, and several library books formed a pile on the floor. It was as if a hurricane had swirled through the room and tossed everything aside. The only clues the chaos was human-made were the plates, cups, and Pepsi cans scattered about the room.
He barely left his room. Sal hadn't showered. He wore a sweat-stained t-shirt with matching sweatpants. His hair resembled a bird’s nest, and if he'd been able to grow facial hair, he would've had a minor beard by now.
The experience at Louise’s house and the trip to the hospital had him going crazy. His mother had insisted he stay home from school, and Sal hadn’t objected. The terrible vision of how Louise was suffering was tearing him apart. He felt that it served Ben Adler right to meet his end in the brutal way he did; he was a monster.
Then there was the matter of Sal's skills, which were quickly multiplying. He didn’t understand any of it.
From where had these "gifts" come and why had there been so many of them?
Then there was Seth, beautiful, amazing Seth.
Sal barely knew him, but he couldn’t get him out of his mind.
He had to find him. Sal believed Seth was able to teach him many things.
Seth had skills, too. What was it he'd said?
Something about a "trade," and how he was able to blend in.
They looked alike, Seth and he did. They were both tall and had raven black hair, except Seth’s eyes were different.
They were magical.
The icy-blueness generated a warm, fuzzy feeling inside him, simultaneously making his blood boil.
Sal had to find him, but he had a feeling Seth would find him first—he always seemed to.
He heard the front door open and slam closed, and then the door to the basement opened and slammed.
Carl.
He was currently quiet. He'd been low-key at school. He kept to himself and hadn't uttered a word to anyone, not even Jack or Rosie. It wasn’t hard to tell to whom Carl’s thoughts belonged.
Louise was unknowingly breaking his heart. His eyes were glassy, his skin dry and white. The sorrow he felt had crept into his bones, leaving him unable to speak. His memory of Louise played on his mind over and over again, like a broken record.
The Mackey’s had tried to work their voodoo on him, but they'd failed.
Carl had nothing to say to them.
Sal had respected Carl’s wish for privacy and to grieve on his own. He affected a mask of contentment most days, to keep his parents from asking questions. Carl didn’t want them to further interfere with his business. He had to stay strong.
Carl couldn’t keep Rosie and Jack at bay for much longer, as they were in it together.
Jack had sent him a text that he'd be playing with his band, Appropriately Wicked, on graduation day.
To their parents’ great relief and surprise, the school had announced that Carl would be graduating from high school.
Sal hadn’t replied back to Jack, and he felt awful about it. Jack was a good friend who deserved a little sunshine in his life. God knew they all deserve a little sunshine. He hadn’t spoken to Rosie either since their visit with Louise. Sal hadn’t even bothered to ask how she was doing.
Things had calmed down in Strong Edge, thanks to the proposal made at the town hall meeting. Someone had, with the help of concerned citizens, raised fifty percent of the required target to pay for outside help to patrol the city. The money kept coming in to preserve the paradise on Earth which Strong Edge had become for some people. Sal wondered if the initiative would cover the low-income areas or if they'd be on their own in the matter.
Sal dug up his phone from under a pile of dirty laundry and flipped through it to find Jack’s number. Just as he was about to press the call button, a quiet knock sounded from the door.
No one had dared enter his premises for the last couple of days, not even to bring him food or offer comfort. He'd made it clear he wanted neither company nor food. Instead, he gathered food during nighttime, like a small mouse, hoping the darkness would conceal him. He just wanted to be left alone.
His mother had tried to get his attention continuously, but his silence had left her defeated. His father had gone right for his guilt buttons. It used to work on him, but not anymore.
The lies had come between him and his parents. Sal felt his father’s slow-burning annoyance building to a rage, the anger bubbling up inside him until it exploded like a tea kettle letting off steam.
“Answer me, you spoiled brat!" had come from between his father’s lips.
Sal had clenched his hands and smirked. “Are you done? I have things to attend to.”
It had stopped his father, pretty quickly. The lack of confrontation had left him paralyzed. Sal had felt the questions as they built up inside his father’s head. Most of them had been from a medical perspective: was the boy traumatized? Did he need medication? and so forth.
Sal had just crawled back under the covers, and his father left the room in a state of wonder.
His had parents decided to leave him alone for the time being—Sal was obviously suffering from stress and needed time and space.
Sal reached out to the doorknob and opened the door wide enough to see who was out there. He found himself looking into a pair of sad eyes and an awkward toothy smile, molded onto an unhappy face. The corrupted smile made Sal’s heart bleed—he was responsible for this.
“Carl, come in.”
His brother kept the strange smile plastered on his face as he entered the room. “She left today, Sal. She stroked my cheek lightly and said she was sorry, then she got into the car and drove away.”
Sal turned his head and gazed out the window to life on the street. Louise and her younger brother, Larten, had been picked up by their mother and taken away from their cheerless lives. Sal wanted to say something that would make everything better, but he choked up. Tears spilled from his helpless eyes. All pretense of quiet coping was lost. The guilt had built up inside of him, and he finally let out all of the frustrations and sorrow.
“It’s all my fault, Carl. I shouldn’t have told you about Louise. I made you feel responsible and guilty. To hell with these so-called gifts I have. I don’t want them.”
Sal threw a pillow hard against the window in anger. “I’ve been so fucking selfish. I’ve made it all about me.” He sat back down on the bed.
Carl sat down beside him. They stayed like that for a while in silence. Carl finally spoke: “It smells like the inside of a whorehouse in here.”
Sal chuckled. He definitely hadn't expected that. “How do you know what a whorehouse smells like?” He punched his brother lightly on the arm, and they laughed.
“Seriously Sal, it isn’t anyone’s fault that Ben Adler was a sick bastard. At least we did something about the situation. At least, we tried to.” Carl squeezed his arm.
Sal nodded.
“Regarding your…ah, talents? They aren’t necessarily bad. You just need to learn how to control them.”
“Thank you, Professor Xavier.” Sal smiled.
Carl folded his arms in front of his chest, so they formed an x. “X-men,” he said.
“You do know that I prefer DC Comics, right?”
“Okay, Wonder Boy…or do you prefer Aqua-Sal?”
On that remark, they both laughed, and the energy in the room changed. Being around Carl for even fifteen minutes was better than spending days in the self-absorbed environment Sal had created for himself.
“Go take a shower, Wonder Boy, and I’ll call Jack and Rosie and have them meet us at The Diner."