I wandered along the aisles of the local grocery store, conveniently about a mile from my house. Glancing at my shopping list, I pushed a cart overflowing with various food items. In the distance, I spotted Mark, ice packs pinned against his jaw with special headgear. Mia navigated the store with their cart filled with protein drinks, deli meats, cheese, and a meat lover's pizza, precariously hanging on the edge. Their conversation seemed heated, with Mia appearing frustrated as she walked away.

I quickly veered away from the sour cream and onion chip rack to avoid encountering Mark, pulling my hoodie over my head. Turning the corner, I almost collided with Mia, causing my cheeks to flush. My stomach churned with nervous butterflies. Mia absentmindedly twirled her hair while gazing at the selection of cookie dough on the shelves.

"Sorry," I apologized to Mia, feeling somewhat embarrassed. She flashed a grin as she looked into my blue eyes.

"No worries," she replied, reaching out to halt my cart from moving further. "I need your opinion," she expressed, her eyes sparkling with delight. I widened my eyes and leaned on the cart for support, trying to steady myself or prevent floating away.

"Sure, I'm happy to help."

Mia pointed toward the rack of cookies in front of us. "What are your favorite cookies?" she asked, her enthusiasm evident. For a moment, the worries melted away as I chuckled.

"I enjoy brookies, but if you prefer plain cookies, I'd go with classic chocolate chip cookie dough," I responded. Mia chuckled to herself.

"What's a brookie?" she inquired. My smile transformed into a grimace momentarily.

"Well, a brookie combines a brownie and a chocolate chip cookie. It's delicious when Sam makes it," I explained, and my smile returned. Mia joined in with a grin.

"I'll have to give it a shot," she declared, reaching for a Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough block from the shelf.

"By the way, how are Sam and your father doing?" Mia asked, her eyes meeting mine briefly before I looked away. "And your brother?"

"They're managing," I replied, our gazes briefly connecting before I averted my eyes. "Sam feels lonely, and my brother and father have work." Just then, Mark appeared around the corner, finding Mia standing beside me with a bag of pre-made cookie dough.

He hissed, "Mia, come here." Mia slapped the cookie slab onto her palm, glancing at me.

"That's my cue," she chuckled nervously.

"Will I see you at school?" I inquired.

"Yeah. Bye, James," she waved before wandering off. Mark glared at me from a distance, and I exhaled, aware of his proximity. I observed him whispering something in Mia's ear, a smirk playing on his lips, and then they walked away, leaving me standing there, gazing at the cookie dough in front of me. I was craving brookies.

These treats were a tradition in my family, initially made by my mother when Derek and I were younger. After she passed away, Sam took up the task.

I grabbed two pre-made chocolate chip cookie doughs from the shelf, tossing them into my cart before walking away.

∆∆∆

Later in the evening, my dad allowed me to walk home from the grocery store while he ran additional errands. I sat on the roof of our two-story house, legs pulled close to my chest and hands tucked in my hoodie pockets, gazing up at the stars. Derek joined me, climbing through my window and settling on the roof.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned. I took a deep breath, then exhaled forcefully, causing the cool air to turn frosty. Derek wrapped his arm around my shoulder, joining me in gazing at the stars.

"What's troubling you?" he inquired once again. I extended my legs, resting my Converse sneakers at the roof's edge. Silence enveloped us as we listened to the wind and the distant chirping of crickets. After realizing my worries encompassed Derek, too, I sighed, attempting to dismiss them.

"Why do you think I have superpowers, Derek? Why couldn't it have been you, Dad, or Sam?" Derek remained quiet momentarily, tightening his grip on my shoulder and offering comforting support like a true brother.

"Do you believe everything happens for a reason? Maybe you have these superpowers for a purpose, and maybe the rest of us didn't get them because that was as well. Have you ever thought about that?" he suggested.

"But why me?" I pressed, seeking answers. There had to be a reason behind it all. It might take time to uncover the purpose, but I needed reassurance.

"There must be a reason," Derek assured me. "We just have to be patient and figure it out."

"What are you two doing up on the roof?" our father's voice called out from below. Derek and I glanced down to find our weary father grinning and holding grocery bags in his arms. He had pulled into the driveway, which I had overlooked until the car horn broke my contemplation. My mind was consumed with thoughts of my abilities and life's path. I would turn seventeen in over three months and be an adult in under two years. I wanted to avoid following in my father's or brother's footsteps and becoming a police officer. Becoming a superhero could have been more appealing, even though heroism seemed to run in my family's veins.

"Do you need help with the groceries, Dad?" Derek called back.

"Sure," our father responded, waving us over. Derek swiftly dashed towards the window, and I leaned over the side of the two-story house, contemplating how to leap without revealing my superpowers to my father. Placing my feet on the edge, I prepared to jump, but just as I was about to, my father shouted at me.

"Don't jump off the roof, James." That option was no longer available. I took flight, my sneakers touching the sidewalk below, and landed unsteadily in a makeshift superhero pose inches from where my father stood. Derek hurried through the doorway, grabbing the grocery bags from our father's arms.

"What were you two doing on the roof again?" our father inquired. I retrieved four bags from the back of my father's Suburban.

"We were just talking," Derek replied. I rolled my eyes at Derek behind our father's back and slammed the car door with enough force to trigger the car alarm.

"Shit!" I cursed, and our father spun around to see what had happened. Although I hadn't scratched the car's metal, it shook slightly. He silenced the vehicle by pressing a button on his keys.

"James, damn it," our father groaned, his hands resting on the car's hood, trying to prevent it from swaying and damaging the tires. Placing my fingertips on the car's roof, I stopped its movement.

"Inside, now," our father barked. As I locked eyes with Derek, he shrugged, clutching the grocery bags, and winked at me. "Don't you dare," I scolded Derek. He shrugged once more, a smug grin on his face, and led the way into the house.

∆∆∆

Sam removed freshly baked brookies from the oven using a potholder and placed them on the stove. Our father stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, while Derek and I patiently sat at the counter.

Derek chuckled, prompting me to chuckle as well. "I bet Mark is losing his mind right now. I heard he got a nice set of braces."

"They wired his mouth shut, too," I added, laughing harder at the thought.

"Cut it out, Derek," our father reprimanded, entering the kitchen and retrieving two beers from the fridge. After Sam carefully loosened a brookie from the baking pan and took a bite, he set it on the counter.

"Mark may be a jerk," Sam began, "but that doesn't mean he can't be protective of his cousin. Remember when I punched Jack McCoy so hard that he needed jaw surgery?" Our father snorted and took a swig of his drink.

"Yeah, you're lucky Jack's father didn't sue. Dad was furious, but that son of a bitch deserved it." Sam gave our father a pointed look as if to say, "See what I mean?" He then turned to me.

"Don't even think about it," our father warned me. Sam placed two brookies in front of Derek and me. I flashed our father a nervous smile and took a bite of my cookie.

"I'm out," Derek announced, grabbing his brookie from the counter and heading toward the doorway. He stuffed the cookie into his mouth and shot me finger guns.

"I guess I'm out, too," I said. It was my cue to retreat to my bedroom upstairs and sneak out later to assist Derek in his nightly endeavors. However, as I made my way out of the room, Derek stopped me in the hallway.

"You're not coming with me tonight," he stated. "I need some time alone." I turned towards the wide staircase and bounded up the steps.

"Sounds like a plan," I replied. "Good night."

"I'll be back in a few hours," he shouted up the steps.

"Okay, cool," I responded. I hurried to my bedroom while Derek left to fulfill his nightly duties.

∆∆∆

Sam perched on the edge of my bed, his eyes fixated on his cellphone screen, his tongue poking out from between his lips in concentration. Nonetheless, he continued talking to me, likely taking notes—an activity he had become adept at since the incident with my superpowers.

"Sam," I prodded him with my toes to grab his attention.

"What's up, James?" he asked, finally tearing his gaze away from the screen. He touched my foot and looked at me after I prodded him again. "You know, Mark could have pressed charges, right?" he remarked.

"He could have, but he didn't," I replied.

"Why do you think he didn't?" Sam questioned. I reached across the bed and picked up my phone from the nightstand.

"I'm not sure, Sam. He must know something," I speculated. "I'm pretty sure Mark is aware of my superpowers."

"No, really?" Sam raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. He exhaled deeply, patting my ankle as he sank into the side of the mattress. "Mark might be a jerk, but it's not necessarily because of you. Bullies often have deeper motivations for their behavior. He might not be as terrible as you think if he knows about your abilities and hasn't mentioned them yet." Sam made a valid point, and I sighed, pulling my knees towards my chest.

"You don't know, Mark," I grumbled, scrolling through my social media feed before turning off the screen, listening for the click, and placing the phone aside.

"And you think you do?" Sam raised an eyebrow, frowning at me. I felt that Sam knew more than I gave him credit for. After all, when we first moved to town, Sam and our father used to be friends with Michael Reignson, Mark's father. It was after Mr. Reignson lost his wife and his second unborn son and he was promoted to chief at the police station that he became difficult to deal with.

Mark used to be nice until that day, but I could empathize with him. I also experienced loss when my mother passed away, and my world changed entirely. My mother was my superhero, and not a day went by that I didn't wish she could be here with me.

"I know Mark is a jerk, but it could be worse," Sam said, patting my shins and standing up. I hoped he was right and that Mark was better than I believed. I needed a different perspective. Maybe Mark wasn't the villain I had made him out to be. "I'm working on a project that I need to finish. You're welcome to come down and observe?" he offered, knowing I would agree. I exhaled and relaxed into the mattress, sliding my legs beneath me.

"Give me a minute, and I'll join you downstairs," I replied to his invitation.

He nodded, heading towards the door. "I'll meet you downstairs," he said.

"Sure," I acknowledged with a nod. Sam closed the door behind him.

∆∆∆

I hurried down the basement stairs, catching Sam's eye as he moved back and forth between his laptop and a beaker of liquid experiments. As I entered, he glanced at me, eyes brimming with excitement and a broad smile spreading across his lips.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, holding a test tube.

I reached out, but he snatched it away before it touched my fingertips. "Don't do that again unless you want more powers," he muttered. I recoiled, raising my hands in surrender.

"Is that the same stuff that gave me my powers?" I inquired, licking my lips and observing his laptop screen.

"If I can recreate it, I might be able to reverse-engineer it," he explained, defending his actions with a shrug.

"Sam," I groaned.

"I have about half of the genetic research—" he began, contemplating whether to share something confidential before biting his lip and changing his mind. "And I might have part of the cure," he suggested, shrugging again. "With all these new supers appearing, I've also considered giving Derek powers."

"That's not happening," I warned a hint of anger in my voice. Sam took a step back, raising his hands in surrender this time.

"All right, I won't," he relented. It was bad enough that Sam inadvertently cursed me with superpowers. I didn't think Derek should have to go through the same ordeal. Although, I had a feeling he wouldn't mind having powers of his own.

" I'm sure he could handle superpowers, but that's not your call, Sam—" I snapped.

"It's not yours either." He snapped back, his eyes widening as he challenged me.

"Not happening," I growled again, my arms crossing my chest. I was still determining what I'd do with Samual, let alone my father.

"You're a bit grumpy tonight," Sam remarked, diverting the subject.

"Yeah, just tired," I admitted, rolling my eyes. I was tired of times like this, for sure.

"Then go get some rest," he advised. He met my gaze, his eyes challenging me as he spoke.

"Only if you promise not to do anything as idiotic as giving Derek powers," I shot back. Sam grimaced, nodding in agreement.

"Okay, I promise," he conceded. It was evident that Sam had a mischievous streak, and he often did the opposite of what I wanted, but I prayed to whichever higher power was watching over us that he would keep his word.

"I guess I'll head to bed," I said, stretching my arms above my head and yawning.

"Goodnight," Sam bid me farewell.

"Goodnight," I replied, and with that, I made my way upstairs while Sam resumed his research, hoping that he wouldn't veer off course.