Chapter Text
It took approximately 456.25 days (or 39,420,000 seconds) for them to learn how to;
1. Not cloak when something was even minutely emotionally stirring.
2. Phase through walls without getting stuck between the foamy insulation and drywall. And most importantly,
3. How best to fall for minimal bodily damages when they managed to phase through the floor.
The latter happened far more often than they cared to admit. But, they were making progress. Their Dad would mark up these small wins on a whiteboard. Drawing neat little stars in blue ink every time they managed to de-cloak or phase through walls like water. They enjoyed a good competition. Even if they were only matched against themselves.
Actually, they enjoyed it a bit more.
The day their powers came wasn't particularly special. They were eleven. It was a run-of-the-mill sunny Sunday they begrudgingly spent inside. Finishing up the last bits and bobs to a science project they'd been working on for weeks (21 days). They didn't need that long, they clarified to their teacher. It was explained that they would have other homework to manage simultaneously, which would be a great way to learn "time management." It felt like a slight. And when they asked their teacher, "was that a slight?" (A word learned from their Father's "Word of the Day" desk calendar gifted to him by their hand), the middle-aged woman pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled like she took on water.
They never got an answer. Anyway,
They were working on their electrolysis project. Which took up most of the time they managed these days. One alligator clip held onto a small piece of copper. The other had in its toothy mouth a quarter that would be dunked into the vinegar solution and, in theory, would become copper plated. Copper would have an electrical charge that would slap itself to something on the negative end of the chain (the quarter). All this was done with a tiny square battery and those damned clips that started causing small callouses on their fingers.
The first trials were an overall failure. The water would turn blue, signifying that copper was indeed moving from its positive charge through the vinegar. Still, the quarter would only take on some copper. This was meant to be copper platting. As long as the quarters stayed silver, it wasn't working.
They asked their Dad for help at the start, and while he offered some guidance, he refused to do the experiment for them. Instead, they claimed they wanted to watch it first. Their Dad counter-claimed that they wanted an easy out. Maybe two things could be accurate, but they found this process infuriating. Failing, failing, failing for twenty-one days gave them a toothache. Their parents walked around with spotty copper-platted quarters in their wallets. They counted; it was $8 worth. Thirty-two quarters are wearing the marks of their failures in circulation with the usual, unblemished currency. That gave them a second toothache.
That Sunday, though, they were feeling confident. Confidently over the whole damned thing, but also optimistic about the experiment succeeding. They placed the copper alligator clip into a measured amount of white vinegar, pressed it onto the button end of the battery, and then added the quarter. The water turned from clear to a slight hue of blue. They watched in suspense with their chin on their knee and their teeth marring their bottom lip as they sat waiting to see if it would actually work. Their Dad was reading across from them at the table, their Father sitting beside him, finishing up a crossword. It really couldn't fail this time. Not with an audience (even a distracted one).
Finally, they looked at the small watch on their right wrist, and with panicked fingers, they pulled the quarter wire from the solution. It took a moment for their eyes to focus, but when the sun hit the tail's side of the quarter, it resembled the shiny grime of a penny. They perched themselves up to standing on the chair and exclaimed, "Yes!" before feeling like they were suddenly dunked in ice water. The feeling lasted only a second, but their Father shrieking lasted at least three.
They stood on their chair, looking at him in bewilderment. They checked their hand holding the quarter, noting if they were bleeding. They weren't. So what was the issue? Their parents seemed to be in a state.
"Oh," their Dad started with both hands on his head, "Oh god, they're a Stealth."
"They're a what?" their Father replied. Their Dad seemed torn between excitement and dread. Always the optimist, he appeared to be more on the exciting end of things.
"A Stealth. Another type of empowered person. Not like me."
"Okay, but what does that mean?! Where did our child go? How do you even know that?"
"Their aura just lit up and vanished as quick as it came."
Where did they go? They looked down and saw both legs accounted for. They were missing a sock, but that happened sometimes. Looking back at their faces, it finally dawned on them. "Can you not see me?"
"No, honey, we can't," their Dad said. They could tell they were trying to be confident when he didn't feel such, "Do you... oh God, I don't know how to word this."
"But if you're like them, surely you can... I don't know, undo it?"
"Dear, I'm a fire elemental. I have yet to vanish into the ether of our kitchen."
Delighted by this new development, they tossed the quarter from one hand to the other. Their Father startled. They laughed.
"Yes, honey, that's very funny," their Dad started, trying to look at them but not knowing where their eyes were, "Let's not give your Father a heart attack. Yup, we still see it. Look at that. Very spooky. Honey, this is very important. Do you... feel a way back?"
Feel? Their arms dropped to their sides as they tried to suss out anything that felt new or off. Something was new. Yet, they couldn't place it. "Maybe?"
"Okay! A maybe is better than nothing!" their Dad seemed a little more confident, "I know this is all very new and very strange, but if you lean into that feeling, you might uncloak- we'd be able to see you again."
"Might?!" Their Father looked either on the verge of tears or passing out. Maybe both.
They closed their eyes and listened for that quiet beat that seemed new. They couldn't tell what was happening but found the whole situation delightful. They knew their Dad was "empowered" and that they probably would be, too. However, they didn't expect ghost powers. They were peeved that their Dad didn't mention this one was an option. Surely, it was the most fantastic choice. The more they focussed, the louder the percussion became. It was almost like the first time, except this time, it felt like warm water was poured up from the soles of their feet.
Their Father shrieked again, lowering himself to the floor. "I'm going to blackout. I'll be fine, though, honey! Don't worry-" thud.
Their Dad looked at them in some kind of awe.
"I can go invisible?!" They remained standing on their chair, pointing at their Dad accusingly, "And all you can do is start fires?"
"Ah, yeah, you're already talking like the rest of them. That's good." He laughed but bit most of it back. "Try not to get overexcited; it might happen again-"
"Cool-"
"-At any other time, yes, very cool. Right now, though, your Father is in a heap on the floor, so let's just. Take a few deep breaths and try not to let that happen again for a minute. Alright?"
They stared down at their copper quarter, grinning.