Chapter 1 – Spritewood, West Virginia

  A few months later

  Sunlight streamed through the window, hitting Solomon Peterson directly in the eyes. The twelve-year-old grunted and rolled over, but the blinding glare had done its job. Abandoning sleep, he sat up in bed and stretched. As usual, he paused to admire his action figure collection. It had taken years of searching and almost all of his allowance money, but he had finally managed to acquire the rare, special-edition figurines for all four of the Quasi Quartet.

  The Quasis were West Virginia’s hometown superheroes, and as such, they had their own line of merch that frequently sold out, especially the new line of special-edition action figures. It took courage and dedication to find even one figure, especially when limited to comic stores and back-alley trading after school. He touched them one-by-one, taking a moment to gaze at their plastic faces and bring to memory their epic deeds over the years.

  Solomon let his hand slip from the shelf that held his figurine collection and flopped backward onto his bed. He lay there for a minute, staring at the Quasi Quartet posters plastered to his ceiling, until a voice rose up out of the silence.

  “Solomon! Time for breakfast!”

  Sighing, he quickly threw on a red shirt and grey shorts and raced downstairs. Luna, his twin, looked up from her plate as he sat at the table and scarfed down his food. “You’re late, as usual,” Luna commented, pausing to brush aside a strand of her long, silvery hair. “Let me guess, you were gazing at your special limited-edition action figures?”

  Solomon rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored the jibe. He gulped down his last bite of breakfast before running upstairs to finish getting ready. How is Luna so quiet at school, but then so sassy at home? he puzzled as he brushed his teeth in record-breaking time. It’s almost as if she’s a different person. He combed out his ginger hair, but it stubbornly curled up again, albeit into slightly straighter curls. Solomon grabbed his Quasi Quartet-themed backpack and rushed down the stairs and out the front door, questioning why he even bothered trying to tame his unruly hair.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Luna was already at the bus stop, as always. Solomon stepped next to her, and they waited for the school bus in a comfortable silence.

  The familiar yellow vehicle rounded the corner and slowed to a screeching stop in front of the Peterson twins. The doors hissed open, and Solomon bounded up the stairs, eager to greet his fellow students and friends, with Luna trailing behind him. He tended to sit toward the front of the bus, while his sister preferred to hide in the back.

  “Hey, Solomon, over here!” called a ninth grader.

  Solomon made his way over to Grant Freeman and sat next to him with a smile. Even though they were two grades apart, the pair had bonded when Grant interviewed Solomon about his draft onto Spritewood High’s football team, a prestigious achievement for a seventh grader. Solomon had insights on the status of the football team, and Grant knew about pretty much everything else, so they could almost always find something to talk about.

  The school bus doors slid shut, and the vehicle’s passengers all lurched forward as it started moving again. “How’s your latest article coming along?” Solomon asked.

  “It’s nearly done. It’s the icing on the cake that is this month’s edition of Spritewood High School News. Here, you can read what I’ve got so far.” Grant grabbed a notebook out of his backpack and handed it to Solomon, who took it eagerly.

  After he had pored over the article, Solomon handed the notebook back. “That is one great article,” he said with a rueful smile. “I love how you described me as ‘upliftingly positive, even on the sidelines.’ ”

  Grant carefully stowed his journalism notebook. “Saturday’s game was one climactic match. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time.” There was an awkward pause before he added, “Look, I know how much you want to be on the field, but the odds of a seventh grader even getting on the team are a hundred to one. Plus, you’re a great morale-booster for the team!”

  But I want to be more than just a morale-booster! Solomon rested his head on the seat in front of him and sighed. “Sure. Whatever you say.”