Evan cracked his knuckles, eyes glinting as he grinned at the massive, abandoned bus in the field. "Piece of cake," he said, voice full of smug confidence.

I blinked. Piece of cake? That bus must've weighed at least three tons.

Evan's fingertips pressed against the bus, and the metal groaned and creaked like it was alive. Slowly—almost impossibly—it lifted off the ground. The wheels spun lazily in the air, dirt scattering below.

"Ha!" Oliver laughed, staggering back. "The son of a bitch actually lifted it."

Evan let go, and the bus slammed into the dirt with a thunderous CRASH, tires flattening, frame bending. Dust shot skyward.

"Your turn, Nick," he said, brushing off his hoodie.

"My—my turn?" I stammered, staring at the bus. Torre was on the opposite side of the field, camera rolling, eyes wide behind the lens.

"Yeah," Harry said, puffing his chest. "You gonna wuss out too, or—"

I rolled my eyes and stepped forward, palms pressed to the cold metal. Heat pulsed through my fingers, almost singing my skin, and slowly, agonizingly, the bus lifted a few inches. Hovering. The air buzzed with tension.

Tada!

Oliver clapped. "Hell yeah! My brother has super-strength!"

"Throw it!" Harry shouted, already zipping across the field in a blur. I froze. Super speed too? I had barely processed the full extent of our powers.

"Any day now, superstar," Torre yelled, laughing behind the camera.

I heaved, tossing the bus into the air. It spun, terrifying and magnificent, the earth shrinking below it. Meghan squealed and ducked, Torre's camera wobbling. Evan shot up and caught it mid-descent, spinning it like a toy, tossing it to Harry with effortless control. The bus hovered, then dropped into his hands.

"Sick catch!" Evan yelled, floating down, camera in hand.

"Throw it back!" Harry hollered. The bus rocketed toward me. I caught it midair, muscles screaming, arms trembling under the weight, then set it down with a groan.

"Never..." I wheezed, dusting myself off. "...Trust me. Never do that again."

⸻

Evan grinned, pointing at a stack of empty crates nearby. "Watch this!"

With a flick of his wrist, the crates wobbled, then rose smoothly into the air, hovering like a precarious sculpture.

"Bravo, Evan. Beginner-level telekinesis, check. What's next, moving a car?" Harry clapped sarcastically.

"Not yet," Evan said, sticking his tongue out. "Patience, my friend."

I stepped forward, noticing a metal pipe lying in the dirt. Heat surged through my palms as I focused. Slowly, impossibly, the pipe levitated. The world felt electric—the power intoxicating.

"Holy..." Harry whispered. "Nick, you're floating stuff without burning it up. That's insane."

"I'm... trying not to," I muttered, sweat beading my forehead.

Harry's energy flared, small arcs of electricity leaping from his fingertips to a stack of boxes. Sparks fizzed in the dust, boxes rattling violently before collapsing harmlessly.

"Oops," he said sheepishly.

Torre's phone whirred, commentary nonstop. "Ladies and gentlemen, you're witnessing history! Teen superheroes learning to control their powers in real time!"

I rolled my eyes. "History? More like chaos in motion."

Evan floated over, laughing. "Come on, Nick, don't be a buzzkill. Try something bigger."

I spotted an old office chair. Not too heavy, not too fragile. Heat roared under my skin. I aimed, fingertips glowing, and it slowly rose, wobbling, then stabilized perfectly. A grin spread across my face.

"See?" I said, letting go slightly. It dropped with a soft thump, intact. "Not bad, right?"

Harry clapped. "Pretty damn impressive. But what about flight, Mr. Pyrohands?"

Flight. The memory of yesterday—crashing, floating, wind whipping past me—made my stomach twist. "Uh... maybe later," I said cautiously.

"You always chicken out," Evan teased, floating above me.

"I'm not chicken," I muttered, flexing my fiery hands. "I'm... cautious."

Meghan shook her head, smirking. "Scared. Admit it."

"Not scared," I insisted, heat pulsing from my fingertips.

Torre laughed. "Oh, he's scared. Watch him sweat, ladies and gentlemen!"

"Fine," I muttered. "Let's step it up." Heat surged through my arms, fingertips blazing like twin suns. I sent a controlled wave of flames at a stack of pallets. The wood ignited briefly, harmlessly, then fizzled. A grin spread across my face. "Okay, maybe a little scared."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "A little? That was epic!"

Evan nudged me. "See? Nothing to it. You're a natural."

I laughed. "If by natural you mean one mistake away from burning down the warehouse, sure."

"Now for real," Harry said, bouncing. "Team attack. Everyone, combine powers. Let's see what we can really do."

Meghan shrugged. "As long as you don't float me into the ceiling, I'm in."

"Deal," I muttered.

The next moments blurred. Fire licked through the air from my hands. Evan levitated crates, pipes, and chairs, hurling them in graceful arcs. Harry sent sparks of electricity zipping across metal rafters. The air crackled with energy. Dust swirled like a storm. Sunlight gleamed off the chaos, a cinematic display of raw teenage power.

Torre filmed it all, narrating breathlessly. Meghan gripped the table, eyes wide, excitement and fear mingling.

And somewhere in the middle of it, I realized—we weren't kids anymore. We were something else. Something powerful. Something dangerous.

A crash made my heart leap. A stack of crates tipped; Evan barely caught it with telekinesis. My palms burned. Harry's electricity leaped out of control, singeing a pipe.

"Control! Control!" I yelled, breath ragged. Slowly, we drew back our energy, taking a collective step back. The warehouse was a mess—dust, sparks, toppled crates—but intact. Alive. Powerful. And just getting started.

Evan floated down, grinning. "Next level: flight test?"

I glanced at Meghan, Torre, and Harry. A rush of adrenaline, fear, and excitement surged through me.

"Yeah," I muttered, flexing my flaming hands. "Next level: flight."