Heath told himself over and over again that he was schizophrenic or it had simply been his mind messing with him or something.

When most children got their powers at around the age of eleven to eighteen, there was usually a huge party and everyone in the neighbourhood was invited so the parents could show off their child's newfound abilities. 

However, Heath didn't want to be a super. He wanted to be normal. Just plain old vanilla. Nothing special or out of the ordinary.

His parents would probably disown him if they found out he was a super. So he pushed the possibility of him being a super to the back of his head and ignored it.

And continued to ponder the possibility of schizophrenia. He wondered where it was possible to buy the DSM-V. They were hard to find as most mental illness were labelled as superpowers.

Oh well. An empty mental hospital would probably be much more fun than a full one.

He was still thinking of that when he went downstairs for dinner. Schizophrenia sounded fine. Delusions and hearing voices were symptoms. Perfect. He had just self-diagnosed himself with a serious mental disorder.

He took his place at the table after he'd helped his mother set it. Family dinners were quiet occasions, ever since his brother's death.

His mother glanced at the empty seat and murmured his brother's name, faintly. His mother had taken the death the hardest of them all, since she had always been the closest to him.

Heath looked down at his dinner, not wanting to look at his mother in her moment of weaknesses. He prodded his food, not because it was disgusting (his father was an excellent cook) but because he had lost his appetite with his mother constantly whispering,"Caleb," under her breath.

Whenever the topic of his brother was brought up, Heath immediately felt an immense amount of sadness, obviously, but also shame. Heath had spent his life in Caleb's shadow, and with his brother gone, he felt as though he had take up his brother's position.

But Caleb had been as close to perfect as a human could be. He had been tall, good-looking and likeable. He was a straight A student, witty and charismatic and talented at the many sports he played. He'd been popular with girls and teachers loved him. It was as though he was secretly a super, and his power was being good at everything.

On the contrary, Heath was short, plain and rather boring. He struggled to get Cs and Bs, couldn't make a joke for his life, was poor at making friends and had no hand-eye coordination. Poppy certainly wasn't making his situation with the teachers better, who'd always just called him 'quiet'. He certainly was doing a poor job of taking Caleb's place.

Heath continued to stare at his food and ate slowly, while his father and mother whispered, but neither opened conversation. Caleb had always been the initiator of chat at the table, but Heath had never been able to do the same. He sighed, wishing he could have brought comfort to his parents in the way that Caleb could have.

If he had died, it certainly wouldn't have had the same impact on the family. They would just cry for a few days and move on with their lives, satisfied with having a perfect son.

He finished up his dinner as quickly as possible, the uncomfortable silence finally getting to him and left the table in a hurry. He didn't want to eat dinner with his mother constantly muttering about his older brother.

He found it difficult to sleep that night, especially because, even with the TV blaring and the radio almost at top volume downstairs, he could hear the whispers of his parents, both of them focused on Caleb.

His blood boiled and he turned over in bed. He knew it was wrong to be angry, but how could he not be? Neither one of his parents had thought about him, how he was doing at school or how his social life was. He felt selfish, thinking like that but his blood was boiling and he was too angry to care. He felt, for the first time since Caleb's death, that no one truly cared about him.

He had quickly ignored those feelings the next day, remembering that it was just hard on his parents, even if it would be nice if they asked about him every one in a while. He pushed any irrational thoughts that he was any less loved than his late brother. Feeling sorry for himself certainly wouldn't make them love him more.

When he had gotten to school, Poppy also seemed to have done something similar about the events of yesterday, acting as though it had never happened. So time went on, with almost a week passing without much occurring.

She joked and punned (he was almost sure that wasn't a real word) more often after the argument. She also became louder and more foul-mouthed than by the day, if that was even possible.

He ignored the whispers as much as he could, despite them getting louder as time went on. He'd just have to learn to put up with it. He certainly wouldn't breathe a word of it to his parents. He'd either get locked in a mental institution or get kicked out.

But overall, he spent a week in peace and calm, enjoying the days he spent with Poppy, with life flying by before his eyes.

That was until, one Tuesday lunchtime he was pulled aside by Brandon Jones and Sarah Kim.

Brandon and Sarah had been his brother's best friends. They had stuck to Caleb like glue and he hadn't been seen anywhere without them.

Brandon's father was Australian, but he'd never been there at all. That being said, Heath could never figure out how he got a tan in England of all places. He looked like what most would expect a surfer to look like - bronzed skin, easy smile and tousled hair. The scars of former pimples on his forehead was the only thing that made him look like a teenager rather than a male model. He was renowned for his ability at soccer, which was where Caleb and Brandon had bonded.

Sarah was Korean, having moved to Britain when she was three. She was also extremely attractive, with ebony hair, pretty olive eyes and lean figure. She often wore a lot of makeup, however. She was well known for her secret car races, of which she was reigning champ, the old motorway behind her housem

Heath immediately felt his self-esteem levels drop. Poppy wasn't with him, since she had to go 'someplace secret' and refused to bring him. Leaving him stuck on his own.

"Heya Heathie," Brandon said, grinning and ruffling up Heath's hair.

"Could you not do that, please?" Heath muttered, feeling uncomfortable. He knew what the two were going to talk about already, as their loud whispering about Caleb and his parents made it obvious.

Brandon just shrugged. "Fine," he said.

"We're just checking up on you," Sarah said, rolling her pretty eyes at Brandon,"How's everyone at home been doing?"

"Fine," Heath replied, monotonously. It couldn't be further from the truth, but he preferred not to confide in the two, even if they had his brother's friends. He did feel bad about lying, because they were well-intentioned, but nevertheless he didn't expand upon his reply.

"Good," Sarah said, but looked unconvinced,"Anything bothering you, don't be afraid tell me."

"Us. Tell us," Brandon corrected, smiling widely,"And hey, tell your parents we said hi."

Heath didn't like his smile much. It may have lacked the eerie nature of Poppy's Chesire smile but it felt false and forced; secretive, like it was a lie in itself.

So he just smiled weakly back, nodding and not saying a word. He was tempted to spill everything that he had been holding in out, about how his family hated supers because of Caleb's death, that he was searching for a way to avenge his brother and how he was worried that he might be a super.

Yet he said nothing. And as the two left, he wondered if confiding in them would've been the right thing to do.

Then he remembered Brandon was a super. It wasn't his dislike of supers he was concerned about mentioning to Brandon. It was his parents'. They had always been rather welcoming and kind to Brandon, enthusiastic when he came over and totally approved of him.

He didn't want Brandon to get emotional, angry or otherwise, over the fact that his best friends' parents hated him for something that wasn't his fault.

Heath then realised that he was being nice to a super. Maybe he hadn't made up his conflicted mind after all. Just because he was still deciding on his opinions of them though, it didn't mean he wanted to be one.

His thoughts were invaded by Poppy. She had finally returned and was wearing a massive grin on her face.

"Did you miss me?" she asked, beaming,"Actually, don't answer that."

She had a bag slung around one shoulder, which certainly wasn't her schoolbag. It would've looked like a gearbag if not for the spray-paint covering it. Most of the spray-paint made up rude words, ranging from mild ones like crap all the way up to the taboo ones like f*ck. Any teacher would slaughter her if they saw that many curse words on a single surface. Or else they'd faint.

"Yeah, it's a bag," she said, rolling her eyes,"C'mon, I want to show you something. Now don't get your f*cking hopes up, it's nothing special."

Heath was interested, but tried to do as she said. "Is this the 'someplace secret' you were talking about?" he asked, curiosity peaked. He didn't want to leave school without permission but he wanted to find out what she was talking about was, badly.

"You'll see," she said, winking.