Hero Worship Read Online Free PDF

me, my life, and just was.”
    â€œWas what?”
    â€œWas someone better.”
    She slides her plate across the table and sets her napkin down. “That sounds like something my father would say.” A sad smile brushes across her face.
    This is the first time Yvonne has ever spoken to me about her parents. Kent told me that she once showed him a childhood picture of when she was two or three, with her mom and dad at the shore of a lake. But that’s the extent of her discussing her past, particularly anything about her parents. This is fine with me because I don’t talk about my parents either.
    As we walk home, she asks, “Do you ever think about having DNA-strand modification?”
    â€œHaving my powers removed?” I say.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œI made a promise that I wouldn’t.”
    â€œTo who?”
    â€œMy mom. Right before she died.”
    Yvonne opens her mouth to say something, but then changes her mind. I’m glad, because I don’t want to talk about it anymore.
    â€œIsn’t it ironic?” she says. “We have powers, but we’re powerless.”

SIX
    After drying and putting all the dishes away, I take out the garbage, put the crates of food into the walk-in refrigerator, and sweep and mop the floor.
    The two cooks sit on barstools and play a game of cards.
    I head out to the dining area and find the waitress sitting at the counter working a crossword puzzle. Gus sits next to her with his nose buried in a newspaper. There are a couple of customers scattered through the restaurant, but it’s definitely not a busy night. I grab a wet towel and go about wiping down the tables.
    â€œDid you hear about that family, saved a few blocks from here?” Gus asks, looking at me.
    I nod my head yes, not trusting my voice.
    â€œDo you know anything about it?”
    I shake my head no.
    Gus studies me for a moment, then turns his attention back to the newspaper. “The cops came by here this morning and asked if I saw anything last night.” He digs into his shirt pocket and pulls out a business card. “One of them gave me his card and told me to call if I thought of anything.”
    The waitress scribbles on the puzzle and says, “The guy who saved the family said his name was Marvin.”
    â€œIt wasn’t you, was it?” Gus asks, looking at me.
    â€œI wish,” I say, my smile forced and wide.
    The waitress nudges Gus in the ribs with her elbow. “Why would someone with powers work here?”
    Gus’s eyes linger on me for a moment. I can’t help but feel he’s trying to read me like the newspaper open in front of him.
    I wonder what Gus would do if I told him it was me who saved the family. If I had to tell a normie, I’d probably choose him. There have been several occasions when I nearly told him the truth, but then I never do because of something I overheard him say once. I’d only been working at Midtown Café a couple of weeks. Gus was standing behind the counter, refilling the coffee cups of the crusty old-timers. A man with a nose ravaged by gin blossoms poured a stream of sugar into his coffee. “Clean or dirty, got no stomach for their kind. Bunch a freaks, all of ’em.”
    I was used to this type of sentiment. I did my best to ignore it and not take it too personally. It wasn’t hard to dismiss bigotry from strangers. The difficulty arose when it was someone you knew and liked.
    Then Gus said, “You know the difference between the members of the Core and God? God doesn’t think he’s a member of the Core.”
    The old-timers slapped the countertop as they roared with laughter. Gus’s smile faded when he spotted me staring at him. It’s that one lingering memory that makes me keep him at arm’s length.
    Gus tells the waitress she can leave for the night, and she hurries off, evidently on her way to something more fun. As she leaves, a woman passes her