The next morning, light filtered through the windows of Emmett Morton High School, casting long shadows across the polished floors. Freddie walked through the front doors, his shoulders slumped and his eyes rimmed with red. He'd barely slept, the fight with his dad replaying in his mind like a broken hologram. He kept his head down, hoping no one would notice the exhaustion etched into his face.
But Robert noticed. He always did.
"Freddie," Robert called, jogging over to him. His brow furrowed as he took in his friend's disheveled appearance. "Hey, what's wrong? You don't look so good." Freddie hesitated, glancing around the bustling hallway.
Students chatted and laughed, oblivious to the storm raging inside him. He opened his mouth to brush it off, to say he was fine, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he sighed and leaned against a locker. "It's my dad," he muttered. "We got into it again last night. He… he said some things."
Robert's expression softened. "What things?" Freddie shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper.
"The usual. That I'm not good enough. That I'm the reason my mom's gone." He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. "I just… I can't do it anymore, Rob. I can't keep pretending it doesn't hurt."
Robert placed a hand on Freddie's shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. "Man, you can be yourself with me. You know that, right? You're not alone in this."
Freddie looked up, his light brown eyes glistening. "I know. It's just… hard."
"Come stay at my place tonight," Robert said, his tone brightening. "We can hit the simulation room, watch a movie, maybe even empty the fridge for some of my mom's leftover food. What do you say?"
A small smile tugged at the corners of Freddie's lips. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good."
Robert grinned, pulling him into a quick hug. "That's what I'm talking about. You're like a brother to me, Freddie. No matter what happens, I've got your back."
Freddie's smile widened, and for the first time that morning, he felt a flicker of hope. "Thanks, Rob. I don't know what I'd do without you."
As they walked down the hallway together, Robert kept his hand on Freddie's shoulder, a silent reminder that he wasn't alone. But as they passed a group of students, Robert's attention shifted to Darian, who was standing by the lockers, his head down and his shoulders tense.
"Hey, Darian!" Robert called, waving him over. "Freddie and I are hanging out at my place tonight. You should come."
Darian glanced up, his blue eyes wary. "No, thank you," he mumbled. "My parents wouldn't allow it."
Robert frowned. "What if I talked to them? I'm sure we could work something out."
"No," Darian snapped, his voice sharper than Robert had ever heard it. "Just… no."
Robert blinked, taken aback by the harshness of the reply. Before he could say anything else, Darian walked away, leaving Robert staring after him in confusion.
"What was that about?" Freddie asked, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know," Robert admitted. "But I'm going to find out."
The school bell rang, cutting through the chatter of the hallway. Students scattered like leaves in the wind, heading to their respective classes. Robert gave Freddie a reassuring pat on the back before they parted ways, but his mind lingered on Darian's reaction. There was more to him than he was letting on, and Robert was determined to figure out what it was.
Later that day, Robert found himself in the power training arena, a vast, high-tech space filled with holographic targets and obstacle courses. The coach, a burly man with a no-nonsense demeanor, yelled instructions to the students. "Energy and projectile users, line up! Your goal is to hit as many targets as possible. Precision and control, people. Let's see what you've got."
Robert stepped up to the line, his palms already sweating. He focused on the targets, summoning a fireball in his hand. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled it at the first target, hitting it dead center. But as the exercise went on, his aim grew erratic. By the end, he'd only hit four out of twelve.
"You need to work on your aim, Martinez," the coach said, crossing his arms. "Focus. You've got the power; now hone the skill."
Robert nodded, frustration bubbling under the surface. He was about to try again when a familiar voice cut through the air.
"Nice aim, replicator," Mick sneered, sauntering over with his usual gang of lackeys. "What's the matter? Can't figure out how to copy someone else's skills for once?"
Robert clenched his fists, forcing himself to stay calm. "Back off, Mick. I'm not in the mood."
Mick smirked, stepping closer. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt your feelings? Maybe you should cry to your mommy and daddy about it. Oh, wait—they're too busy pretending they're not royals to care about you."
Robert's temper flared. "Shut up, Mick."
"Or what?" Mick taunted, his voice rising. "You gonna snap and attack me like your kind did years ago? Go ahead, coward. Let's see what you've got."
Robert's vision blurred with anger. Before he could think, he hurled a fireball at Mick, who dodged it with a laugh. Mick charged at him, but Robert teleported out of the way, turning invisible. He reappeared a few feet away, his chest heaving.
"You're pathetic, Martinez," Mick spat. "Your parents should've thrown you away when they had the chance."
The words hit Robert like a punch to the gut. He was about to retaliate when the coach's voice boomed across the arena.
"What the hell is going on here?"
Mick immediately said. "He threw a fireball at me, Coach! I was just standing here, and he attacked me!"
The coach's eyes narrowed. "Martinez, make yourself visible. Now."
Robert dropped his invisibility, his hands raised in defense.
"He was taunting me, Coach. I only threw the fireball because he wouldn't back off."
Mick lunged at Robert, grabbing him by the shirt. "You're dead, Martinez!"
"Enough!" the coach roared, stepping between them. He shoved Mick back, his expression thunderous. "Both of you, to the counselor's office. Now."
Robert glared at Mick as they were being escorted from the arena; his heart pounded. He hated Mick could get under his skin so easily, but more than that, he hated the way Mick's words echoed his own deepest fears.
The walk to the counselor's office was tense, with Mick shooting smug glances at Robert and muttering under his breath. Robert kept his eyes forward, his jaw clenched. He hated this—hated that Mick always seemed to come out on top, no matter what.
The counselor's office was a small, sterile room with pale blue walls and a desk cluttered with holographic files. Counselor Grayson, a middle-aged woman with sharp features and a perpetually stern expression, sat behind the desk, her fingers steepled as she regarded them.
"Sit," she said, gesturing to the two chairs in front of her desk. Her tone left no room for argument.
Robert and Mick sat down, Mick slouching with an air of nonchalance while Robert sat stiffly, his hands gripping the edge of the chair.
"Now," Counselor Grayson began, her gaze flicking between them, "care to explain why I have two students disrupting power training and nearly starting a brawl?"
Mick leaned forward, his expression the picture of innocence. It wasn't my fault, Counselor. Robert attacked me out of nowhere. I was just standing there, and he threw a fireball at me. I feared for my safety.
Robert's eyes widened. "That's not what happened! He was taunting me, calling me names, and—"
"Names?" Counselor Grayson interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "Words hurt, Robert, but they don't justify violence. You know that."
Robert opened his mouth to protest, but she held up a hand, silencing him. "Mick, did you provoke Robert in any way?"
Mick shook his head, his face the picture of sincerity. "No, Counselor. I was just minding my own business. Robert's always been… unstable, you know? With his powers and all. I think he just snapped."
Robert clenched his fists in his lap. "That's not true! He's lying!"
Counselor Grayson's expression hardened. "Robert, I understand that your abilities can be… difficult to control, but that's no excuse for lashing out. You need to take responsibility for your actions."
Robert stared at her, his chest tightening. "But he—" "Enough," she said sharply. "Mick, you're free to go. I'll make a note of the incident, but I trust this won't happen again."
Mick stood up, shooting Robert a triumphant smirk. "Thanks, Counselor. I'll try to stay out of his way."
As Mick left the office, Robert felt a surge of frustration and helplessness. He turned back to Counselor Grayson, his voice trembling. "Why don't you believe me? He's the one who started it!"
Counselor Grayson sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Robert, I'm not saying Mick is perfect, but you have to understand how your abilities make others perceive you. Power replicators are… unpredictable. People are wary of what they don't understand. You need to be more careful, more controlled. Otherwise, you'll only reinforce their fears."
Robert's stomach churned. He wanted to argue, to tell her it wasn't fair, that Mick was the one who deserved to be punished. But the look in her eyes cold, dismissive told him it was pointless.
"I'll be speaking with your parents about this," she added, her tone final. "In the meantime, I suggest you reflect on your behavior. Dismissed."
Robert stood up, his legs feeling like lead. He walked out of the office, his mind racing. The counselor's words echoed in his head, each one a fresh sting. Unpredictable. Unstable. A danger.
Digging his nails into his palms, he clenched his fists. He wasn't a danger. He wasn't a monster. But no matter what he did, it seemed like everyone Mick, the counselor, even some of the other students saw him that way.
As he walked down the hallway, he spotted Freddie waiting by the changing room. His friend's face lit up when he saw him, but the smile faded as he took in Robert's expression.
"What happened?" Freddie asked, his voice laced with concern.
Robert shook his head, his throat too tight to speak. He didn't want to burden Freddie with this, not after everything his friend was already dealing with. But Freddie stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, whatever it is, you can tell me," Freddie whispered. "You're not alone, remember?"
Robert looked at him, the weight of the counselor's words still pressing down on him. But in Freddie's eyes, he saw something he does not see often here understanding, acceptance. Maybe, just maybe, that was enough.