Jayce hadn't expected to be picked up in a weird van. Then again, he hadn't expected a lot of things to go right that day.
Not a minute past five in the morning, Jayce was rudely awakened to a baby's cry - his month-old sister. He heard his mother get up and shuffle into the nursery, but it was too late, he had already been yanked out of sleep.
So, pulling on his AC/DC t-shirt, red hoodie, and ripped black jeans, he got ready for school.
He quietly slipped past the nursery and into the bathroom before his mother could ask for assistance. Jayce peered into the mirror, looking over every little flaw on his face. The scar on his cheek his older brother gave him when they were roughhousing. The beauty mark just beneath his eyebrow. Pushing his short, spiky bangs over his eye, he covered them up, keeping them a secret from foreign, prying eyes. His mother had told him to let people see his face, but he didn't like short-haired Jayce.
"Come on, man. First day of school. Just tell Maya you like her." He cleared his throat, then deepened his voice. "Hey, Maya. You're cute. I'm cute-"
Laughing at his reflection, Jayce realized how ridiculous he sounded. He wasn't cute. He was the cool, edgy kid with a tragic past. Not that he wanted attention or sympathy. Jayce just wanted a few friends and a few good laughs. Maybe even an entourage to a party here or there.
Jayce grabbed the cell phone out of his back pocket and checked the time. Forty-two minutes past five. Time for breakfast.
"I'm making pancakes, Ma!" he called out, turning down the hall. He sprinted down the stairs, catching himself before slipping on the dog toy on the last step.
Eddie looked up from the floor, his big, dopey eyes concerned. Drool dripped from his mouth and splattered on his paws as Jayce's hand scratched his ears on a fly-by trip. His back foot thumped against the hardwood like thunder rolling in.
"You gotta stop leaving Mr. Squiggles on the step, bud. I don't want "death by dog toy" on my gravestone."
The dog almost appeared annoyed, then dozed off. His massive body was a peaceful lump on the floor that once had been training to be a guide dog. Eddie had been the best little golden retriever pup until he sniffed out a burrito and ran for the hills. He was brought back and landed in Jayce's mother's lap after she saw him at work.
Jayce had been the most excited little boy when Eddie pounced on him, bearing down with kisses. The puppy nibbled on Jayce's sneakers, then sprinted around. Jayce tried to catch the dog, but Eddie was always a second too quick.
That was the last time Jayce's father would ever see him happy.
He passed away not long after from complications Jayce's mother never had the time nor the heart to explain. For a time, Jayce had gotten deep into true crime shows and wondered if his father had crossed the wrong people or was living a double life, but as far as he knew Olivier LeBlanc was just a math teacher from Canada.
Jayce didn't enjoy thinking about his parents when they were together. He wondered if his mother hadn't been happy from the start and if that's what led her into the arms of her new fiancé. Sure, Olivier had been dead six years, but Jayce had seen the man with movie star looks before. At the grocery store. At the school, dropping off his own kid. At the theatre. Then at the house, dropping off flowers for the funeral. The coincidental meetings turned into dates between Jayce's mom and Josh, which brought him to pop the question at a dinner for the four of them. Jayce nearly dropped dead, but Josh's daughter had a completely different reaction. She jumped up and stormed away, spilling her virgin margarita on Jayce.
Now, as Jayce looked back on that night, he wondered if Stacy had meant to embarrass him. He scoffed.
Lucky for him, they'd be seeing more of each other soon enough. The wedding was three weeks away and bearing down on Jayce like a steamroller. He couldn't imagine sharing a bathroom with the drama queen of the century and being called son by Josh.
"Hey, Ma! Pancakes are ready!" Jayce hadn't even noticed himself put them together. His thoughts were too distracting, too much for an early morning.
A woman with caramel hair like her son's took light steps down the stairs, baby Amy in her arms. She was short and thin and looked ready to collapse from exhaustion, but that didn't stop her from faking a smile for Jayce.
He hated that fake grin. Even if it took marriage to Josh, he wanted the real one to return.
Jayce peered up at his reflection in the microwave. He frowned, deep and real.
His mother whispered, "Thanks for breakfast, sweetie."
Swiveling on his heel, Jayce turned around with two plates of maple syrup-soaked pancakes. "No problem. Hey, is it cool if I head out early to meet up with the guys?"
His mother took a seat at the island bar stools and shrugged.
Amanda giggled.
"Sure. Just remember to be home right after school. I need your help packing up the garage."
"Sure thing," he replied with a full mouth. He scarfed down the rest of his breakfast, grabbed his backpack at the door, and left.
The walk was long and dull. The neighbourhoods Jayce cut through all looked the same. Houses painted a shade of pastel with white trim. White doors with little half-circle windows. Chimneys on the left. Big windows in the front. Pools in the back. Just like his own regular house. The odd car would pass him, but the sidewalks were barren at six thirty-nine.
Still enough time.
Although Jayce felt bad about lying to his mother, he couldn't risk her knowing where he was really going. Ryan and Sean would cover for him to keep her suspicions at bay. What was the harm in telling a solid lie?
Instead of heading straight at the intersection, Jayce went right. He walked and walked until he reached the edge of Oak Crest Park. Normally bustling with pets and joggers, it was now a quiet forest coated in a dusting of rain.
"Perfect."
The prissy soccer moms (of which there were many) wouldn't chance to get their shoes gunked up with mud. The dog owners wouldn't risk bringing fido back dirty.
Thank God for rich people, thought Jayce.
He, careful not to slip, sprinted into the woods. He stopped at a clearing where kids used to drink and have parties. Jayce had gone to one of the parties and swore never to return after the cops arrested everyone. But the place was concealed. Perfect for keeping a secret.
As if speaking to a recording, Jayce announced, "Day fifty-seven of becoming a superhero. Flight number six. Let's do this."
Jayce was never much of a runner, but when he took off down the path, he felt like a cheetah. Sure, other kids were faster, but none of them could take off.
There was a twinge in his chest as his arms turned into hawk wings spanning seven feet each. Seeing as step one was a success, Jayce leaped off a rock half-buried in the dirt and flapped his arms in long strokes. The ground was quickly fading as he soared up to the treetops.
"Yeah!" he shouted before realizing someone might hear him.
Then a gunshot rang out and being heard was the least of his worries. Jayce's wings transformed into pale arms with his red sleeves rolled up to the elbow. As he fell, a scream blared in his ears. It took him a moment to realize it was his own. The impact with the ground forced a wave of pain through his body. It felt like lightning stinging in his veins, shocking and like nothing he'd ever felt.
Jayce curled into a ball, groaning. He pressed his palm against the bullet hole in his forearm, but the blood dripped between his slim fingers. His heart raced, a powerful pulse in his ears. The sensation shook his body. He wanted to pass out, leave himself for some poor jogger to find. But his racing mind kept him in the moment.
"Help!" he cried with a hoarse voice. His tongue was trapped between clenched jaws. "Somebody help!"
A man and a young woman appeared from behind. Jayce turned to face them and saw a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and a hunched back. He wore a suit and muddied dress shoes. But the strangest thing was the rifle tucked under his arm. It looked like an antique. The woman at his side was no older than twenty-five and had long, wavy black hair. Her almond-shaped eyes peered down at Jayce. From first glance, he feared the woman.
"Get him!" barked the man, his voice unexpectedly powerful. He sounded like he'd smoked for decades and looked like an accountant.
The woman draped in a long black coat stepped forward. Her shoes sunk in the mud an inch from Jayce's face. He watched her serious face grow closer and could see all the scars scattered across it. Jayce counted sixteen, but as the blood ran out of his arm, his vision came in and out of focus. The black-haired woman was pretty in a strange way.
"We don't have all day!"
She wrapped her fists around Jayce's shoulders and yanked him upward. He yelped and clawed at her hands. She paid him no mind and began to drag him through the mud. Jayce thrashed and screamed, but she kept going.
It had felt like an eternity had gone by when they reached the van.
Jayce let out a heavy breath and managed to ask, "Who are you?"
The man bent down. He looked even older up close. His nose was crooked and his eyes drooped. The wrinkles across his forehead were more pronounced. He had scars himself, but none compared to his female companion.
"I'll tell you who I'm not. I'm not a friend of mutations like you." He shouldered the rifle strap off and pressed the barrel against Jayce's head. It was still warm. "If I was stupid, I'd scatter your brains across the ground right now, but I need you to help me."
"Why would I help you, you sick bastard?" spat Jayce. He felt the urge to call the man worse, but his mind was reeling.
The gun was removed from Jayce's forehead. "Because if you don't I'm going to kill everyone who ever knew you, and kids like you tend to find that that's the proper incentive. You just couldn't live with yourself with all that blood."
Jayce didn't want to die. He didn't want anyone to die. So he shut up and let the scar-faced woman haul him into the back of the van. As soon as his head hit the door, Jayce was a million miles away in a world of strange dreams.