Every Day Superman

EVERY DAY SUPERMAN

Issue 1: The Monsters We Face

        

                “‘Look!  Up in the sky!’ They all say it.  And if I don’t hear them say it, I can feel them think it,” Clarence read as he rushed through the concrete playground.  He raised his head to scan the area, looking quickly for his friend Joey.  No sign of him.  So Clarence returned to the world of his comic.  Superman’s thought balloon had him hooked - and the art; a beautiful splash page of Superman flying frantically through a clear blue sky using his x-ray vision on the ground below; got Clarence’s blood flowing.

            “That’s supposed to mean something.  A reminder.  For people to look up; to have hope.  I do all I can to live up to that.  But people must know that sometimes, even Superman fails.  Right?  Sometimes, even Superman can lose what he cares most about.  But not this time.  I promise Jimmy, I’ll find you.  Just hold on bud,” Clarence felt a rumble in his gut.  It wasn’t hunger; he was a husky thirteen year old - he knew hunger.  This was something else.  He quickly looked up again.  Joey wasn’t in sight, so he returned to the world of tomorrow.

            There were four panels over a half page spread.  First, a close-up of Superman’s ear; then, a look of realization on Superman’s face; third, Superman turning around; fourth Superman narrowing his gaze toward the heavens.  The half page spread had the effect of a camera zooming in, simulating Superman’s telescopic vision.  The focus was a space ship that looked like a human skull.  There was only one word on the page; only one word in Superman’s mind.  “Brainiac!”

            Clarence closed his comic.  He had to.  It was only Monday and he was already halfway through.  These issues needed to last him a week.  Sunday was the only day his dad would drive him to the comic shop.  He would go himself, but the store was in the heart of the city and too far for him to walk. 

            He checked his watch.  Only twenty minutes left in recess and he hadn’t found Joey yet.  He picked up his pace and pulled the hood of his bright red sweatshirt down so he could turn his head a little easier.  It was cold today, but in the thrill of the story and his rush to find Joey, Clarence had started to sweat.  “I gotta lose some weight,” he thought to himself. 

            Littering the cement and graffiti covered concrete of the playground were dozens of other seventh and eighth graders.  Clarence waded through them.  On the borders of the old basketball court he passed groups of boys and girls; all huddled together, but separately, in an ecosystem of germinating hormones.  He rounded a group of girls all wearing bright pink jackets and talking excitedly.  Beyond the blinding neon, finally, he spotted Joey.

            Joey wasn’t a hard guy to miss.  He was in Clarence’s grade; seventh; and easily weighed at least two hundred pounds, though Clarence never asked.  He also tended to enjoy his own space, wherever he was.  At recess, that could be any corner of the playground that wasn’t filled with dozens of other students.  Today, it was sitting on the bleachers at the far end of the old basketball court with his head buried deep in a Batman comic.

            Clarence approached his friend and dropped his back pack to announce his arrival.  Joey looked up and smiled.  Then, with the flourish of a stage magician, Clarence presented his Superman comic.

            “Man, how do u keep gettin these every week?” Joey asked earnestly.  “I been readin this same issue of Batman for a month cause four bucks a pop really adds up.”

            “I just save what I get and I don’t play video games,” Clarence replied.

            “AND u only get one book at a time,” Joey added. 

            “You can start borrowing some of my comics if you wanna read something new,” Clarence offered excitedly.  “There’s this great storyline from a year ago where Superman…”

            “Nah man, u know I don’t like Superman,” Joey interrupted with a smile.  “I mean, he’s ok but…he’s just not as cool as Batman.”

            It was a clear goad, but Clarence didn’t care.  Joey must have said something like this at least once a day; and at least once a day for as long as they had been friends, Clarence fell for it.  “What makes Batman so much cooler?”

            “He’s a human being.  I feel like, if I worked hard enough I could BE him.  He’s just more relatable, ya know?” Joey concluded with an expectant grin.

            “You think you could be Batman?” Clarence asked deadpan. 

            There was a moment of silence as Joey pondered this question.

            “Well, nah, cause I’m really fat,” Joey said with the air of a philosopher pondering the meaning of life.  Clarence instantly started laughing. 

            “Ok,” Clarence said as he composed himself.  “But he’s relatable to you.  Why?  Did you lose your parents when you were a kid?”

            “Well, my dad left us, so…yeah, one of’em,” Joey said as that grin returned to his face.

            “Can you solve, like, any problem?” Clarence pressed.

            “Problems?  Nah, I aint good at math,” Joey said as he started to laugh now.

            Clarence pointed at the lone pine tree that was in sight.  It was a thin tree; clearly malnourished in the dilapidated city borough that had sprung up around it.  “Can you bring that tree down with one karate kick?”

            “What?  I don’t even think I could DO one karate kick,” Joey said.

            “Well, I KNOW you’re not rich!” Clarence finished.

            They both started laughing all over again.  It was that deep, genuine laughter that real friends bring out in each other.  It enveloped them like a bubble and shut out everything to do with the outside world.

            “What’s so funny Roley Poley Joe?” and just like that, the bubble had burst.

            A thin, wiry eighth grader approached them with three other lanky kids in tow.  The first eighth grader; the talker; stepped up close to Joey.  He towered over both friends, and looked maliciously down at the fattest one.  The crosshairs were set on his target.  Joey averted his eyes, looking off to the right at nothing in particular.

            “I mean, I see somethin funny,” the eighth grader continued as his three friends chuckled in anticipation.  “But u aint lookin at what I’m lookin at.”

            “He’s lookin at u fatty,” one of the boys in the group said with a laugh.

            “Way to point things out Garvey,” the leader said, without taking his eyes off Joey.

            “Hey, was u on Seinfeld?” Garvey said, trying to add something to the joke.  “U so funny lookin, I bet u was on Seindfeld.  Probly didn even have ta audition!”

            “Seinfeld?”  Are u my mom Garvey?” the leader said, turning his head to his entourage.  All three of them laughed.

            “Hey man, the classics never die,” Garvey answered, laughing and clapping and bowing his head toward the lead eighth grader.

            “Leave him alone Tyson,” Clarence said.

            “Oh damn, it’s Superman,” Tyson said as he took a step back to assess this newfound prey.  “I didn’t see ya there Superman, which is a damn miracle since u aint that much smaller than Roley Joe over here.”

            Another round of laughter came from behind Tyson.

            “U got nothin to say Roley?” Tyson asked, bringing his attention back to Joey – stepping in dangerously close. 

            But Joey didn’t say anything.  He didn’t even acknowledge Tyson.  He just stood there, staring off.

            “What u lookin at anyway?” Tyson asked as he turned his head in the direction of Joey’s stare. 

            It was too bad for Joey.  In the seventh grader’s line of sight was a bunch of kids, no one particularly standing out in this sea of teenage conformity – except for the girls in bright pink jackets.

            “Nah, I don’t think u have a chance with any of them Joey Rolls,” Tyson said, which elicited more laughs.  “Think about the sex.  What if u lost your balance big boy?”

            The entourage exploded with laughter.  Tyson, buoyed by how well his joke had landed, started running circles around his boys; feeding his adoring public with the silent permission that it was ok to laugh as loud as they liked.  He was a hyena, giving a temporary reprieve to his prey as he rallied his pack.

            Clarence looked over at Joey.  He saw his friend’s bottom lip twitch.  “Just leave us alone,” he thought.  Clarence knew what a lip twitch meant.  Everyone knew what a lip twitch meant.  But no one cared enough to notice except for Clarence.

            “Sides…,” Tyson said as he stepped in close to Joey again.  “…how can they satisfy u man?  Yo titties are bigger than any o’theirs.”

            The hyena lunged.  Tyson grabbed Joey’s flabby pectorals and squeezed hard.  Joey instinctively tried to back away, but Tyson held on.

            Joey didn’t make a sound and he didn’t move after his first, instinctive reaction.  He just stood there, still looking off to the right; willing himself away from this situation.  But the damn had burst, and when Clarence looked back at him, tears were streaming down his face.

            “Ah, u made him cry!” Garvey howled as screams of laughter erupted from the rest of the entourage.

            “Enough!” Clarence yelled as he stepped in front of Joey and shoved Tyson hard.

            Their eyes locked then – Clarence and Tyson – prey and predator.  Tyson regained that wicked grin.

            “Not a good move Superman,” Tyson said with deliberate sadism.  His eyes moved down to the comic in Clarence’s hand.  “I see the book, but I don’t see no S.  You gonna whip it out for me?”

            Clarence needed no further provocation.  He let go of the comic and before it hit the ground he had unzipped his sweatshirt, grabbed both lapels and pulled them wide.  Underneath was a dull blue t-shirt with a faded crest that stood large and clear in the center: the Superman “S.”  “Dun da-da-da DUUUUUN,” Clarence thought.

            “WHAT?  He can’t be SERIOUS,” Garvey screamed out in the back.  The laughter of the entourage transformed then.  It turned into something more than loud; more than obnoxious.  It was exaggerated and cartoonish in how long and theatrical it was.  This was not the laughter of kids who found something funny anymore.  It was cruel; a calling card meant to pull in as much attention as possible.  And it did.

            But Tyson was not laughing.  He was staring – right at Clarence.  The grin grew longer as malevolence danced in his eyes.  He stepped closer to Clarence and bent down to come face to face with the pudgy pretender.  “U think u hard cause u got that on?”

            Clarence did not move.  He did not flinch.  He only returned Tyson’s gaze with his own as he stood holding open his sweatshirt with incredible stillness.

            “Think u bulletproof?  Like Superman?” Tyson asked.  “Well, my pop has a twenty-two at home.  Hid where he think I can’t find it.  But I’d love to see one go through u.  Bang.  Then u’d learn.  U aint no Superman.  U just a little boy in a shirt.”

            Pouncing again, Tyson moved like lightning and shoved Clarence.  The seventh grader fell backward onto concrete, landing on his butt.  “OW!” Clarence thought.  But he never said it.  He just sat there, staring back up at Tyson with the lapels of his sweatshirt still held wide; the “S” shield still showing.

            Tyson looked confused for a moment.  Then he was angry.  He took a small step forward and stopped.  He wanted to make another move; strike another blow.  “Would he?” Clarence thought.

            DINGDINGDINGDINGDING

            Recess was over.  Tyson smirked as he backed up toward his boys.  After congratulatory pats on the back for dealing so well with the two fat seventh graders, all of the bullies headed back toward the school.

            Clarence waited there and watched them.  When they were finally in the school he pulled his lapels back in and zipped up his sweatshirt.  A hand reached down to him.  Clarence looked up to see Joey’s tear stained, smiling face.  He grabbed Joey’s hand and got to his feet.

            “Thank u,” Joey said.  “I was too scared to say somethin.”

            “No problem,” Clarence replied.

            The pair collected their comics and walked toward the school, easily falling back into debate over the age old question: Superman or Batman.