Max Aguas and the Supers: Fire vs. Water

ONE

SUPER TIME

Ilove water. I welcome the power it has over me. The cool, wet goodness soothes my body, keeps the scorching South Florida heat at bay. I feel alive, more aware . I never want to leave . . .

Ugh, I sound like a freaking mermaid or something. No wonder I don’t have a girlfriend.

I’m at Junior’s pool. Not too big and not too small. Just the right size to fit a dozen people with no problems. Kids shout and laugh with giddy excitement, water splashing. The sweet smell of barbecue fills the thick humid air. Junior’s dad stands in front of a giant grill wearing a Kiss the Cook apron like some cheesy wearable dad meme, burgers and hot dogs sizzling. Plumes of smoke rise to join dark marshmallow clouds.

A storm is brewing.

I'm floating in the shallow end by myself, watching the other kids play. This is my first time being invited to one of Junior’s famous pool parties. Not sure why. Junior and I never hang out much anymore after he made the football team. He made new friends. Cooler friends.

Hey, Max Aguas! Junior shouts from the deep end of the pool. He’s a tall, stocky kid with freckles sprinkled across his chubby face, a huge contrast to my own short, lithe frame. He seemed to mutate after hitting puberty, while I remained pretty much the same.

A group of kids huddle around him, staring.

Yeah? I shout back.

Wanna play a game?

I swim on over and grab hold of the edge. What game?

Who can hold their breath the longest.

I hate that game. How about a water balloon fight instead?

Everyone laughs. I feel like sinking to the bottom and never coming back up.

Water balloon fights are for jits, Junior says. You see any jits here?

I shake my head.

"Are you a jit, Max?"

I like to believe that I left the jit life behind in sixth grade, so I shake my head again, with a little more oomph this time.

He smiles. Good. Then you’ll play. You go first.

I stare at my old friend, a look of mischief on his face. I get the feeling he’s using me to show off to his new friends. There’s no going back now. I’ll be the laughingstock at school if I refuse. The coward. Still, I know I can’t beat him. He’s much better than me at this game, and he knows it. Better to fail trying than not try at all, I guess.

In the corner of my eye, I spot a blurry figure underwater. A little voice in my head tells me they may be in trouble. So, ignoring Junior, I dunk my head in the water to investigate. It’s a girl. I recognize her from my history class. Adriana is her name. Her long, dark hair appears to have caught in the drain, and she can’t seem to free herself. I know this might sound crazy, but it’s almost as if the pool is trying to eat her.

I come back up and say, Adriana’s trapped underwater.

Stop trying to delay the inevitable, Max. Are we going to do this or what?

No, really, her hair’s—

One kid says, "Chicken."

Yeah. Junior chuckles. Don’t be a chicken, Maxy.

I hate it when he calls me that. Anger flaring, I check on her again. She’s more frantic now, pulling on her hair like some madwoman. I come back up. Please, you have to help her.

If you want to forfeit, just say it, Junior says. We’ll understand.

Everyone laughs again.

Screw it, looks like it’s up to me to save her. I go under and swim over to her. I give it a shot, make sure not to tug too hard to avoid hurting her, but it doesn’t budge an inch. The drain’s snagged her up real good.

A surge of energy flows through me as an idea comes to me. Still holding on to her hair, I plant my feet on the pool wall and torpedo myself toward the opposite end. But I end up going much faster than I anticipate. Her hair comes free and I let go before dragging her behind me. But I forget about shielding myself from the wall. I strike it headfirst and sink down to the bottom.

It gets darker underwater all of a sudden. I look up, head pounding, somehow still alive. I can see through the surface as clearly as if I were looking out of a window. The black clouds have maneuvered overhead in a threatening manner, like an army getting ready to attack. Unbelievable. Since when—

Lightning flashes—a jagged bolt stretches through the sky like a vein—and a deep rumble follows, reverberating the water and me along with it, a mix of fear and awe overtaking me. Good or bad, something tells me this is exactly where I need to be. A moment later, a barrage of raindrops attack the surface.

Then something out of this world happens.

I breathe.

TWO

BECOME ONE WITH THE AGUA

Every birthday for the last ten years, Mom would tell me stories about the day of my birth. How unique it was. My favorite was the weather; it rained especially hard that morning. Lightning, thunder, the whole shebang. The way she described it, Dad had to drive through Atlantis to get her to the hospital. There were several times when she thought they’d never make it. But they did. "A miracle ," she called it.

That's how I got my name. Max. Short for Maxwell, not Maximilian. Mom said their decision to go with the former came down to their meanings. Maxwell literally means Great Spring, and fittingly enough, I was born on the cusp of Winter and Spring. Whereas Maximilian is just Greatest. I prefer Maximilian. Sounds so much cooler.

Today is March 18th, my thirteenth birthday, and while it’s a clear and sunny day outside, so far I’m celebrating alone.

I invited Junior to come over and hang out, but he hasn’t arrived yet. He’s probably still mad he wasn’t the one to save Adriana from drowning. Mom texted to say she’d pick up a chocolate cake from my favorite bakery on her way home. Ever since Dad opened his own business, she’s had to put in extra hours at her call center job to help make ends meet. I don’t care about the cake; I just wish I wasn’t so alone.

I decide to go for a swim to pass the time.

The water is cool to the touch. I go straight to the deep end and float to the bottom. Exactly three minutes later, a door in the deepest part of my psyche swings open, and new me rushes out like a possessed person to shove old me out of the way.

The overwhelming emotions I felt the other day, not to mention the witnesses, at Junior’s pool didn’t give me a chance to really take it all in. But now I can. And holy crap is it cool! It feels like I’ve become one with the water.

When the gills show up, I trace my finger over the flappy skin, the water whooshing out. Gross! Okay, not as cool as I thought, but still impressive.

What else can I do?

Waves.

I thrust my hand forward and, sure enough, unleash a wave that clears the pool’s edge and crashes into Mom’s garden. Whoops. I’m so ecstatic that I don’t even care if I’m grounded.

How about a template? Someone I can emulate. Maybe someone from comic books with similar powers. Liquid Assassin, my favorite character, comes to mind.

The story of an average Joe who one day is blessed with water powers while deep sea diving in the Bermuda Triangle. Instead of going the boring hero route, he decides to use his unique abilities to rid the world of the most dangerous people.

His go to ability is making ice daggers out of nearby water sources and flinging them at his targets like ninja stars. But his most epic assassination has to be in issue # 56 when he killed the leader of a ruthless terrorist group by trapping him in a block of ice and subsequently shattering him into a million pieces.

I wonder . . .

I slow my breathing. Time slows to a grinding halt. Unimportant thoughts vanish from my mind. The water temperature slowly drops a few degrees.

With a wide smile on my face, I go up the steps on the shallow end and, with one hand still dipped in the water, imagine an ice spear like the one Liquid Assassin would make. Sure enough, after about a gazillion tries, I finally make my very first ice spear. Cool! I toss it into the water with little vigor. Gotta work on my throwing skills.

I experiment with different shapes: balls, squares, triangles even.

After a couple hours of messing around, exhausted and body aching, I decide to take a nap right there inside the pool.

I can’t tell how much time passed when Mom jumps in to rescue me.

I’m sitting on the sofa, still wearing my swim trunks, towel wrapped around my body. Mom stands in front of me, globs of water dripping from her long ebony hair. She’s still wearing her navy suit—now drenching wet. My cake sits on the table. She’s eyeing me like she caught me stealing money out of her purse. No, worse. Like I killed someone, and she’s trying to figure out if she should call the cops or wait for Dad to decide my fate. I’ll take the police over Dad any day.

Damn.

If only I’d known she’d arrive early from work today, I would have never jumped in the stupid pool. Why couldn’t I get a power where I could read minds or tell the future?

Now those would really come in handy.

She blinks a tear away. Or is that water? I can’t tell. I thought . . . I thought you drowned, she says, voice trembling.

But I didn’t, I say.

You were unconscious, honey.

Sleeping.

"Sleeping in the pool . . . underwater."

I nod.

But . . . how is that possible?

You saw my neck when you pulled me out?

She nods, eyes wide. "Were those . . . gills?"

Yes, Mom. They appear when I’m underwater.

She’s looking at me like I’m some alien or something. Ever since I can remember she’s exaggerated any little thing I’d do, making it seem much worse than it really was. Don’t go camping, she’d say, you might get eaten by a bear. Or: Don’t ride bikes in the woods. Your chain might break and you’ll be lost forever. Now that something serious has finally happened, she’s on the edge of a complete mental breakdown. It’s as if she’s been anticipating this moment all my life. I can’t say that I blame her. This is all pretty trippy for me too.

She tells Dad everything that night over dinner. He sits across from me at the table, dark eyes trained on me, quiet. He’s a hardcore Cuban Dad. Grew up in a rough area of Havana, no father of his own. Runs his own auto mechanic shop. He says he’ll give it to me when he retires. Judging from the deep frown on his face, I’m not too sure anymore. This is his normal reaction when he’s mad. Not because he doesn’t have anything to say. It’s because he doesn’t know how to say it. Not having a dad around to show you the ropes will do that to any man. At least that’s what Mom says.

We eat dinner in complete silence. It’s awkward, and I suddenly lose my appetite. I just want to be alone.

May I be excused?

Dad shrugs as he sticks a big piece of rib eye in his mouth and chews. I stand and make my way to my room. I overhear Mom scold Dad for not talking to me about my sickness.

I don’t care what they or anyone else thinks. I just want to learn more about my power.

THREE

JUNIOR TAKES FLYING LESSONS

Next morning, I’m sitting in history class, listening to Mr. Michaels drone on about Christopher Columbus. My attention is not on him. It’s on the lake sitting outside the window. It calls to me.

I jump out the window and dash toward it. Mr. Michaels shouts for me to come back, but I ignore him. All that matters is the lake.

A book slams on my desk.

I blink and see Mr. Michaels standing over me. He wears a tweed suit and smells like an old leather sofa. Care to tell us what’s so fascinating, Mr. Aguas?

I look around the room. Every kid is staring at me, some giggle.

Um, nothing, I say.

Good. Mr. Michaels picks up the book and walks to his usual place at the head of the class. He turns, eyes lock on me. Then you can answer the question.

My palms get sweaty. It gets really hot suddenly. The question about Christopher Columbus and the impact he had on the natives, right?

Yes, go on.

Sorry, I had a rough night.

He seems to understand, says, Take your time.

I put myself in the native’s shoes, imagining what it would be like if Columbus and his crew suddenly showed up out of the blue at my doorstep. How would you feel if strange men suddenly showed up to your house?

I’m not sure I understand the question.

They must have been scared out of their minds, right? These large ships showing up out of nowhere. People dressed in weird clothing, carrying matchlock rifles and hand cannons. They probably thought they were going to die.

Good answer, he says with a smile, then continues on with his lecture.

Adriana turns around in her chair up front and flashes a smile of her own, fluorescent light reflecting off barbed wire braces. I nervously smile back. She’s cute, in a nerdy anime kind of way. We haven’t talked since the pool incident. My guess is she’s embarrassed, like me.

One of these days, I swear, I’ll ask her out on a date. Maybe I’ll invite her to my pool— 

Her ginormous bald patch comes in for close inspection.

Err . . . scratch that. Movies will do just fine.

Pfft, who am I kidding? If I had a nickel every time I said that, I'd be the richest kid in the world. Maybe I'd even be able to afford my very own water cave hideout, like Batman.

I notice Junior eyeing me two seats over to my right, killing the mood.

After class, I head on over to the boy’s locker room. I find Junior sitting on the bench with two of his cool friends. Opening my locker, I watch him out of the corner of my eye as I remove my shirt, pants, and stick them inside. I grab the blue swim trunks and quickly put them on.

Hey, Max, Junior says. Sorry I missed your birthday.

It’s okay, I say.

He just laughs. His two friends follow suit. It gives me the creeps. I don’t even ask what’s so funny, I just get the heck out of there.

I feel much more relaxed when I enter the Olympic-sized swimming pool. Miss Robinson is inside with us, teaching us different ways how to swim. I’d prefer it more if she taught me about my abilities. Not that she would be able to, of course. She’s just a gym teacher, not Professor X.

Junior and his two friends circle me like a pack of hungry sharks. I swallow a mouthful of chlorinated water as I sink lower, waterline just below my nose.

Ready for that rematch? Junior says.

I shake my head.

Aw, come on. I thought you were a big hero. Saving Adriana like you did, at my pool no less. You were under for a good three minutes at least. Everyone was pretty impressed. Think you can do it again?

Miss Robinson—

Don’t worry about her. She won’t suspect a thing.

I glance over at Miss Robinson. She’s helping the other kids with their form. Best to get this over with now, I guess. Maybe if I beat him he’ll leave me alone for good.

Fat chance.

The look on his face says otherwise. His hatred for me seems to have quadrupled after the incident in his pool. His popularity must have taken a big hit. That would explain why his entourage has shrunk from superstar status to Three Stooges’ status. Maybe I can knock him off his high horse once and for all. At least then the beating wouldn’t be so bad.

Fine, I say. But this is the last time.

Good, you first.

I go under, and immediately feel the big hands on my head, pushing me down. I panic, try to force my way back up. But Junior is too strong. He puts all his weight into it to keep Miss Robinson from suspecting anything.

Intense fear paralyzes me from head to toe as his grip on my head tightens, abnormally large fingers digging into my skull like a pizza chef kneading dough. I thrash and kick at the water, scraping my nails across his forearm, but Junior’s grip doesn’t let up, it just tightens even more. I open my mouth and my air bubbles out with an inaudible BLUB while the chlorinated water rushes to take its place.

Images of Junior and I playing as kids flash through my mind. I can’t believe he’s changed this much. We used to do everything together. He was like a brother to me . . .

Pure rage overtakes my fear, and I imagine the water exploding like a bomb. Several kids hit the deck as Junior and his friends go flying into the benches.

All eyes are on me.

FOUR

THE GOVERNMENT COMES OVER TO PLAY

Our backyard isn’t the largest in the world. It certainly feels smaller now that I’m a teenager. When I was younger, however, I thought it was the world.

When Dad announced his plans to call someone to build a swimming pool, my seven-year-old mind imagined a god digging a hole in the earth to make the oceans. I must have swam in that pool more than a million times in the last nine years.

Now I look on from my bedroom window as it’s taken away.

Little by little the water is sucked away until there’s nothing left but a giant hole. It hurts my heart knowing that my own Dad decided this was the best course of action. He could have at least talked with me about it before taking such drastic measures.

But I should know better. Dad made it a habit of doing things his own way. A skill he picked up surviving the mean streets of Cuba. On every camping trip we went on, he made sure to remind me of the importance of being self-sufficient—not relying on the opinions of others when a big decision needs to be made.

Bullcrap. I’m just coming up with excuses for him. He has no right to take away the pool without telling me and Mom first. We’re family. That’s what families are supposed to do. Sure, the principal expelled me from school. But if anyone should be happy that I defended myself, it should be Dad of all people.

Besides, how am I ever going to learn about my powers now? I’ve been officially banned from all pools. The closest beach is an hour away by car. I’m thirteen; I don’t have a car. And even if I did, he’d make sure to take that away from me too.

I punch the window in anger. Dad shoots me a menacing glare as he works.

Mom calls me to join her in the living room. Apparently I have a guest. I wonder who it can be. Junior? Maybe he’s come to apologize for getting me expelled. Yeah, right, after what I did to him? I doubt I’ll be seeing him anytime soon.

I walk into the living room and spot a large man in a suit sitting on the sofa, a black briefcase on the floor by his legs. Mom is plopped down in the chair to his right. The man stands when he sees me enter. He looks like a cross between a bodybuilder and an accountant. His muscles appear on the verge of bursting through his suit jacket.

Honey, Mom says with a small smile, this nice man would like to have a word with you.

The man extends his giant gorilla hand. Nice to meet you, Max. I’ve heard only good things about you.

Yeah, I say, taking his hand. I wince as his grip tightens. What do you want?

My name is Nox. I work for the federal government. I’ve come to offer you a proposition, son.

I look at Mom, who just nods. What kind of proposition? I ask.