NOTE: This is a very old piece written back in college. After doing a drawing of Hot-Head, I felt a bit nostalgic for the scene, and decided it was still decent enough to post.
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“’Scuse me, mister.” Dammit! Another zipper-pocket! Didn’t anyone trust the people around them nowadays?
“Watch it, girl,” said the man, not bothering to really look at her. She laughed, not paying attention to him. She wasn’t quite one to talk about trusting people, really. At any rate, she’d have to move down a few blocks and wait at least another twenty minutes, or she’d start looking suspicious. Idly walking with the flow of the crowd, she let herself get lost in thought; however, her stomach growled, reminding her of its neglect. She wasn’t sure she could wait twenty minutes.
She looked around, trying to spot someone self-absorbed enough to make an early run on. It was then she noticed him. The boy looked normal enough, but for the ungodly large stocking cap on his head. Below the cap, she could make out his deep blue eyes. He was hanging around the outdoor produce market, looking this way and that. She kept a cool eye on him as he made hesitant grabs at an apple here, an orange there. She smiled thinly to herself. He was really such an amateur.
She continued to watch him, but kept herself aware of her surroundings. She bumped into someone else, a young woman in her thirties, busily applying make up to her eyes. The woman didn’t even acknowledge her, merely cursed as the movement jostled her makeup.
She smiled, fingering the coin purse in her hands. The woman shouldn’t keep her purse gaping open, even when it’s on her arm. Not that she was complaining or anything. Satisfied that there was enough in the purse to tide her over for a night, she turned her attention fully on the boy. She chuckled to herself. The boy wasn’t even aware that the owner of the produce market was eyeing him. The boy took a breath, and casually began walking away from the market. The owner immediately moved to intercept him, cutting the boy off in five long strides.
“Excuse me,” said the man. The boy looked up, a shocked look on his face. “I don’t believe you’ve paid for your goods.” The boy blinked, then cracked a goofy grin.
“Whoops! I just don’t know what came over me,” he said. Carefully cradling his various fruits in his one arm, he reached up to his cap. “Let me get my money…” The owner gave him a slightly disgruntled look, obviously not believing him. The boy looked in his cap for a moment, rustling through it with his free arm, while he held it with the fruit bearing one. He made a perplexed face. “Gee, it seems I left my wallet in my other hat. Unless I left it in here.” He reached up and ran a hand through the bright shock of red hair on his head. Suddenly, his hair burst into flames.
Her eyes widen as she took in the spectacle. She saw the owner jump back. The boy took the moment to dump the fruit in the cap and took off running, his hair still blazing. Now intensely interested in the boy, she followed him at a distance.
“Police!” she heard the owner yell. “Stop that thief!”
The boy kept running, going at a pretty good clip, weaving and dodging through the crowd. The fact that his hair was on fire certainly helped clear a better path; it also meant that she was slowed up in the process as people scrunched together to get away from him. Undeterred by the flaming head, a policeman jumped in front of the boy, yelling, “Halt!”
She stopped, staying behind a few rows of people, watching the boy. She wondered what he was going to do now. The boy had skidded to a halt; he and the policeman faced off. Suddenly, he simply leaped into he air; his hair flaring brightly… and he kept going. Her eyes widened again in amazement as he flew about ten feet over the crowd and laughed, saying, “Sorry, sir, but I gotta fly!”
She watched him soar away over the buildings, carrying the “stocking cap” full of fruit. Suddenly, a grin found its way onto her face. Well, that certainly explained the clumsiness: if you could just fly away from a problem, you didn’t have to be very stealthy. The problem with that though, was that it was too flashy… it certainly wrecked any chance of operating in the same place more than once a month or two. He really was an amateur.
Deciding she had done enough of a hard days work, she decided to follow him; he was certainly one of the more interesting things she’d seen in her twelve years of existence. She noticed that most people were still gazing after the boy, even though he had long since disappeared from sight; she decided to capitalize on the moment. She snagged a long stick of French bread from the bakers’ stand as she ducked into the alley behind her.
Finally alighting on a roof several blocks away, he cut off the flames on his head and ducked down below the ledge. When he was certain no one had followed him, he let out a laugh.
“Man, I have got to work on a better escape line,” he said to himself, rooting through his fruit sac. “‘Gotta fly’ is just too cheesy. I sound like some sixties super hero cartoon.”
“Yeah, you gotta at least have a cheesy-looking costume to go with the dialect,” said a voice.
He leaped up and whirled, looking right and left, clutching the sac and an apple to his chest. His hair immediately flared up. Suddenly, he was aware of a presence behind him.
“Hey, it doesn’t even feel hot,” said the voice, a light, female pitch.
He whipped around and found himself facing a young girl, with green eyes and black, wavy hair down to her shoulder blades. She couldn’t be any older than 12, which was his own age. She lowered her hand from his head. She smiled brightly at him, and held out a long loaf of bread.
“Care for some bread with that apple?” she said.
He blinked, and realized he was gawking at her. She had taken him completely by surprise. He shook the dazed expression from his face and tried to think of something to say.
“Uh… sure?”
“Great!” the girl said, sitting down and beginning to tear a chunk off the bread loaf. He watched her go to work on it, cutting it easily with her nails, despite the tough crust.
“Um… you want some fruit?” he asked.
She looked up and smiled again. “Thought you’d never ask. I’ll have that orange you lifted, if you don’t mind,” she said.
He
grinned. “No can do,” he said. “
She frowned. “And here I have only one piece of bread and I’m willing to share it with you.” She lifted a piece to him.
He made a face. “A very big piece of bread I might add…” he said. She made puppy eyes at him. “Alright, we can split the orange.”
He handed her the orange, and she peeled off the skin, dividing the inside in half. He took the piece of bread, bit into it, and then held it over his head, which still flickered with a low flame. She watched him as she popped a slice of orange in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
“What’s up with that?” she said.
He glanced at her, as he pulled down the bread. It was nicely toasted. “What’s up with what?” he said, biting a chunk of bread off.
“The flaming hair,” she said. “It’s not hot, but you just warmed the bread.”
“It’s only hot when I want it to be,” he said, shrugging. “Normally, it’s harmless. It doesn’t even light stuff on fire. It’s like it’s for show mostly. I can turn it on and off at will, but for some reason, it always flares on when I fly. I can’t seem to shut it off then.”
“Makes for a conspicuous trail,” she said. “I think the people below were too shocked, otherwise they might have followed you. I had no trouble.”
“Well, it works wonderfully the first time around,” he said.
“Yeah, but I doubt they’ll fall for it a second time,” she said. He looked up at her and they locked eyes. He wavered after a moment and looked away. Her eyes were very intense and hard to look at directly. She blinked. “That trick is great and all, but I hope it isn’t all you got. It’s not good to lean too heavily on it incase it fails.”
He grimaced. “Did you come up here to lecture me?” he said, irritation in his voice. He looked back at her, and this time, she had to look away. He sighed. “Sorry.”
“S’alright, I’m just saying,” she said. After a moment, she looked up, smiling brightly. “I could teach you how to be more discrete,” she said. He gave her a startled look. “You got potential, but the problem is, you stand out too much. The way you move. The way you look around every half a second. The way you’re so stiff. I’m sure falling back on the powers has gotten you out of a good many jams, but it’s too noticeable. I imagine you can’t stay in one place very long.”
He looked at her with a mixture of wonder and caution. “I… haven’t been doing this very long,” he said. “I’m not sure I really like doing it.”
She shrugged. “I just do what I have to. I take enough to afford a meal here and there. People don’t stop for beggars any more. I learned that the hard way.”
“You’d really teach me to be better at this?” he said.
She nodded, noting the wary tone of his voice. “It’s not easy, and I’m not perfect myself. I’ve just been doing this a while.” She looked him over again. “I stress again that I only do what I need to survive. I’m not out to screw people over.” She saw his face relax a little bit. “I’m guessing you aren’t like that either.”
He shook his head. “Well, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, people don’t generally give you stuff purely from the goodness of their heart,” he said. “Especially not strangers.” She blinked at this, but said nothing. “So, what’s in it for you?”
She smiled hesitantly. “Well, here I am, a lonely little girl with no one to lean on when I need it. Here you are, a lonely little boy, still struggling to adapt to this life. I’m proposing we team up. I watch out for you, you watch out for me. If either one of us are having a slow day, but the other is having better luck, we can pool what we have and share. We’d go hungry less, I think.”
“And I take it my being around might make building fires easier?” he said with a bemused smile.
“Well, yeah,” she said sheepishly.
He scratched his chin and thought it over for a minute. He frowned slightly. “Well, how do you know I’m not dangerous? I could burn you alive in your sleep if I wanted too,” he said.
She grinned slyly and raised her hand to show her fingernails, which upon a second look appeared tougher and sharper than normal. She also bared her teeth, showing the canines were a bit longer and more pointed than normal. “I could slit your throat when you sleep,” she said. She dropped her hand and smiled more warmly. “I know we don’t know each other. But I don’t think either of us have much to lose. At least I don’t. Do you?”
His expression grew sullen, and he said, almost at a whisper. “No… not really. At least, not anymore.”
She felt self-conscious, seeing how the statement affected him. She wished she hadn’t made it. But then, he brightened, and smiled at her. “Well… what the hell,” he said. “You’re right, it is awfully lonely, this life.”
She brightened as well, smiling again. “Great!” She grabbed his hand and shook it. He winced, surprised at the strength of her grip. “My name is Kat.”
“I’m Ben,” he said, returning the shake. They stood there gripping each other’s hands and staring at each other. Sizing the other up, each tried not to blink. Finally, Ben broke down with a snort, and the two of them burst into a fit of giggles.
Kat lifted a slice of orange and held it towards Ben. “Well, a toast, then, to our partnership,” she said. Ben lifted an orange slice, and they tapped them together before popping them into their mouths.
Ben grinned. “I know I need to stop sounding like bad movie cliché,” he said, “but this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
Kat giggled. “Yes,” she said.
“Yes what?” said Ben.
“You need to stop saying bad movie clichés,” she said, another grin on her face.
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