Super Nobody (Alphas and Omegas Book 1) by Brent Meske Page B

plants up to his neck. Beneath those
was some track lighting, making the evening into a sort of dim yet
sparkling afternoon time. And a teacher dressed in a tuxedo with
white gloves there to open the door and help Charlotte out of the
car.
    She turned to him and flashed him a grin.
“Wow huh? I feel like I should have my zoot suit on.”
    Michael didn't say anything. He was too busy
looking at the movie posters. Star Wars Episodes VII, VIII and IX,
the Exterminatrix, Groskin's Run, So I Blew Up My School, and
Invincible (the Marcus Patterson Story) were all in plain view as
soon as he'd walked in, along with all the romance films he didn't
know and couldn't care less about. There was a massive statue of
the huge golden guy with the sword.
    “Oscar,” Charlotte breathed. “I totally want
a picture.”
    Not only was there a photographer on hand to
take their picture, but he led them over to a little station not
far off to put accents and their names on the photo. They decided
not to go with the wigs or silly costumes.
    “We can do it again later if we get bored,”
she said.
    They were pretty early, so only a few other
kids were milling about. The parents and administrators were
already outnumbered, but not by much. The gym had been decorated
enough that it didn't much resemble what it started out as.
Streamers hung everywhere, balloons were taped into large clusters,
and in the center of the gym was a small section of painted plywood
from which hung hundreds of little Oscars, to chest height.
Charlotte immediately went over and started looking at them.
    “Ah,” she said. “One for each of the sixth
and seventh graders. That's pretty tight.”
    “Tight?” he asked, and immediately wished he
hadn't.
    “It was a slang word in the eighties. I
started listening to really old school rap, the first ever rap, you
know, when the synthesizers were really just getting going. Totally
radical time to be listening to music. Hair metal, synth pop,
emerging rap, it was a good time for America.”
    “Sounds like,” he said, and scanned the room.
It wasn't lit like normal. There were a few spotlights piercing the
dimness, and some strips of Christmas lights in strange places.
There was even a raised platform, probably a dance floor, with
hundreds of lights under it, pointing straight up. Well, he
wouldn't touching that with a ten foot pole.
    “You want something to drink?” he asked.
    “Sure,” she said, still picking through the
Oscars.
    He went over to one of the tables and checked
out the refreshments. A pair of those big orange sports coolers
were labeled 'ice water' and 'lemonade', but the punch was a
mystery. The principal, Mr. Samuelson, sauntered over. “Having a
good evening, Mr. Washington?”
    “Yep,” he said. “I mean, yes Mr.
Samuelson.”
    “No need for the mister. Just call me
Samuelson. I see you've brought the Sulzsko girl. A very bright
young lady.”
    Michael didn't know how to respond to that
one. “Uh...thanks.”
    “Punch?”
    “I'll sue,” he said.
    “I definitely don't want to get on the bad
side of your grandfather,” Samuelson smiled. “No sir, not when your
grandpa was my teacher growing up. Never met a scarier, nicer man
in the whole world.” He must have caught the politely puzzled look
on Michael's face, and the intention flooding out of him to get
away from there and back to people his own age. “Two punches coming
right up. Right and left hook.”
    Charlotte had found his Oscar. It was a
picture of him from last year's yearbook photos, but only his face
remained, glued to the yellow piece of paper. On the back was
printed 'You're a Star!'
    “I bet they don't have one for me,” she
said.
    “Don't count on it,” he said. Sure enough,
they found her Oscar a few minutes later, just as a massive rumble
came from outside. Michael spilled some punch on himself, but was
lucky Charlotte didn't notice because she was looking over toward
the door.
    “What is that?”
    “Don't know,” he