You ever wake up knowing the whole world already decided who you're supposed to be?
That's my life. Every single day.
Those people you saw at breakfast — yeah, that's my family. The Crays.
If you watch the news, you've heard our name. If you haven't, congratulations — you're probably from the Moon.
There's my dad, Chris Cray, billionaire, genius, humanitarian, owner of Cray Industries. The man who basically built half the tech in Los Angeles. To the public, he's the city's golden heart — the face you see smiling in front of donation drives and global hero initiatives.
But behind closed doors… he's also Crazy Clam — the world's greatest superhero.
No one outside the Young Force and our family knows that part. And honestly? It's better that way. If the world ever figured it out, we'd have zero privacy, ever.
Not that we have much already.
Then there's Mom — Silver Cray. Warm, beautiful, terrifying when angry. Her powers could melt steel, and her temper could melt whatever's left. She's the calm in the storm, the one who makes chaos look like Sunday morning tea.
The rest?
Bruce — the genius. He can read your mind, finish your sentences, and make you feel like a five-year-old while doing it.
Vera — strong enough to punch a truck in half, loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood while bragging about it.
Steven — fire hazard in human form.
Vers — magic prodigy, influencer, queen of drama.
Jim — the speed demon. You'll hear him before you see him, and he'll steal your food before you blink.
And then there's me.
Kevin Cray.
The firstborn. The one everyone expects to be perfect.
---
School was… different for me.
I'm not saying I didn't like it — I did. I just didn't fit in completely.
You see, being the son of a billionaire in high school doesn't exactly scream normal. Teachers smile too wide when they see me. Classmates whisper when I walk past. Even the janitor once called me "sir."
It's not my fault. I try to act regular, blend in, keep my head down.
But in a world where fame is oxygen, people notice wealth like blood in water.
Everyone knows my dad's rich, but no one knows he's a superhero. That secret's mine to keep.
And I've gotten good at keeping it.
---
"Yo, Cray!"
The voice came from behind me as I stepped out of my hover car at Sunvale High.
"Morning, Leon," I said.
Leon Hartman — my best friend since middle school. Tall, messy hair, smile like he's never taken life seriously. He jogged up, tossing a drone-ball between his hands.
"Still riding solo, huh? Thought the billionaire's son would have a driver or, like, a limo that makes pancakes."
"Damian our driver offered to drive," I said. "I told him I like peace."
He laughed. "You and peace. Not sure those two words belong in the same sentence."
We walked through the school gates, the air buzzing with chatter and floating ads.
Sunvale wasn't a normal high school. The Crays donated a lot here, so it had more tech than most labs — energy shields around the building, AI Cleaning robots, drone hall monitors.
As we entered the main hall, heads turned. I hated that.
Girls smiled. Guys nodded. Someone whispered my name.
Leon nudged me. "See? Told you. Every girl here either wants you or wants to be you."
"Yeah," I muttered, "and every guy here wants my grades or my car."
"Cry me a river, rich boy."
He wasn't wrong, though. I worked hard for my grades — not because I loved school, but because I had to. Being a Cray meant being excellent. Average didn't exist in our dictionary.
---
My first class was Advanced Physics.
The teacher, Mr. Lang, smiled when I walked in. "Ah, Mr. Cray. Care to solve yesterday's equation?"
I did. In under thirty seconds.
He gave me that you're too smart to be here look. I'd seen it before.
Truth was, I didn't feel smart. I just liked understanding how things worked — maybe that's why Dad trusted me around his labs sometimes.
Halfway through the class, I noticed someone new sitting by the window.
She wasn't staring at me, like most of the others did. She was sketching in her notebook, hair tied back, face calm, eyes sharp.
She looked… peaceful.
When the bell rang, I found myself walking toward her before I even realized it.
---
"Hey," I said. "New here?"
She looked up, brown eyes meeting mine.
"Yeah," she said. "Transferred last week. I'm Emily."
"Kevin."
She smiled. "I know. You're kind of hard to miss."
"Right. The name, the face, the never-ending rumors?"
"All of the above," she said, smirking. "But I don't really care about any of that."
That stopped me for a second.
"Most people do."
"I'm not most people," she said simply, closing her notebook. "You're a Cray. Big deal. Still human, right?"
I laughed. "Most days."
Her smile widened just a little. "Good. Because I don't do fake."
I liked her instantly.
---
By lunch, Leon already knew.
"You talked to her?!" he said, mouth full of fries.
"It's not a big deal."
"Bro, it's Emily Rivera. She transferred from Eastview Academy — top scores, captain of the debate club, apparently turned down a scholarship just to come here. That girl's like—"
"A normal person?"
He stared. "No, like… out of your league, even for a Cray."
I raised an eyebrow. "You're saying I have a league?"
Leon laughed. "Everyone's got one. You just sit at the top of it."
I shook my head, half-smiling. "You're ridiculous."
"Maybe," he said, leaning back. "But you're interested. I can tell."
Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn't ready to admit it yet.
---
After classes ended, I walked out into the courtyard. The city skyline glowed beyond the school walls — blue glass towers stretching high into the clouds.
Emily was there, sitting under one of the solar trees, sketching again. The leaves shimmered faintly, storing light energy.
"Hey," I said, walking over. "You always draw during breaks?"
"Helps me think," she said. "You ever try it?"
"Not really. My mom says I can't even draw a straight line."
Emily laughed softly. "Good thing art isn't about straight lines."
She turned the notebook toward me — a sketch of the city skyline, but twisted, fractured, almost like it was breaking apart into light.
"That's… amazing," I said.
"Thanks. It's called Perspective. Everyone sees the same city. I see what's underneath."
There was something in her voice when she said that — something deep, almost sad.
"You okay?" I asked.
She looked away. "Yeah. Just thinking."
I wanted to ask more, but before I could, my wristband buzzed. A message from Dr. Hetero.
> Everything stable. Energy readings nominal. Remember your check-in tonight.
I frowned, sliding the screen away.
Emily noticed. "Work stuff?"
"Something like that."
She nodded, clearly not convinced. "You look like a guy who keeps a lot to himself."
"I guess that's true."
"Well," she said, closing her notebook, "I'm not the type to chase. You'll talk when you're ready."
"Is that a promise?"
Her smile was soft, almost teasing. "Maybe."
---
That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, her voice replaying in my mind.
She saw something underneath.
She wasn't wrong.
Underneath the grades, the smiles, the billionaire name — there was something else inside me. Something restless. Like I was standing on the edge of something I couldn't see yet.
I thought about Dad, out there saving lives. About the Young Force. About how badly I wanted to make my own mark.
But I wasn't them.
Not yet.
Still… something was coming.
I could feel it, deep down, humming beneath my skin like static.
If I'd known how much that feeling would change everything,
I might've tried harder to ignore it.