Sudden Superhero

1. The Incident

MOST SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLDS would be doing homework after school. Some would be practicing sports, or playing in band, or singing in choir, or studying for the Academic Bowl. And where was I?

I, Peter Maguire, was sitting on the edge of the roof of my apartment building, swinging my legs as I ate a sandwich. Now, listen: I wasn't a loner. I didn't have many friends, but that was because I liked being alone. I didn't play a sport, I couldn't sing or play an instrument for my life, and even though I loved the Academic Bowl team, I didn't want to be part of it. In short, I was a happy, invisible wallflower who had nothing better to do after school than to sit up here and eat the lunch I didn't bother eating during school. It was a comfortable, daily routine, and I was happy with it.

My apartment building was only four stories high, but the view of Queens was lovely, and I sat there in peace. My friend, Rory, was next to me. Let me clarify something: Rory was a bird. A crow, I think, possibly a raven, or maybe a really dark pigeon. As I chewed my food, I threw crumbs at him and watched him peck mindlessly at the little bits. I wondered if he missed me when I couldn't come. I wondered if it was even the same bird every time.

I finished my sandwich and threw the last of the crumbs in his direction. "Beautiful day, isn't it, Rory?" I asked. The bird didn't reply, of course. He just squawked and flew away to join his avian friends in the sky.

"Peter!"

I leaned forward to look down. My apartment was on the top floor, and Mom's head was sticking out of the window, her neck twisted so she could look up at me. Her brown hair was in a very, very loose braid, and the hair tie was just about to slip off. She liked it that way, apparently. She wasn't wearing her glasses, and she probably couldn't tell me apart from the satellite dish because she squinted at it instead of at me.

"Come inside!" she yelled, as if she wasn't just a few measly feet below me. "It's supposed to rain soon!"

I glanced up. The sun was hiding behind thick, puffy clouds, but the sky was bright. "It doesn't look like it's going to rain," I replied, looking back down at her.

She shook her head at me. "Fine. Don't come grumbling to me when you get soaking wet."

She ducked back inside and slid the window closed, and I laughed. Mom wasn't the best at predicting weather: she would send me outside in a jacket on a chilly morning on a day that turned out to be eighty degrees, or she would insist I didn't need a raincoat only for it to end up pouring later. It was April now, and as March's frigid temperature receded, the days grew long and warm. Rain was spring's forte, so I was expecting showers sometime soon, but not today. It was way too nice today.

I unscrewed the cap of my water bottle, and as I drank, I stared at a flock of sparrows sitting on a power line across the street. I had an inexplicable affection for birds. There was a good pair of binoculars on my shelf that I'd gotten specifically for watching birds, but that was before the realization hit me that in most of New York City, you see the same types of birds every time. Pigeon. Crow. Sparrow. Those binoculars were left untouched for years.

A sudden noise surprised me, making me choke on the water. I turned sharply in the direction of the disturbance, staring at the opposite edge of the roof. I definitely heard something, but what was it? Everything looked normal. I put my bottle down, stood up, and took slow steps toward the edge until I could lean over and look down.

There was a guy dangling by his fingers from a narrow ledge a foot beneath the edge of the roof. I immediately grabbed his hands without thinking it through. He was a pretty average-sized guy, but for me, someone who was several inches shorter and significantly smaller, it took a lot of effort to pull him up.