"So why do you want to be in Super Academy?" the academy director asked.
His voice was calm, practiced, the kind that had asked the same question hundreds of times before. He adjusted his suit, smoothing invisible wrinkles, then leaned back in his chair as if settling in for a story he already thought he understood.
Across from him, Asha Grey sat with his hands resting stiffly on his knees. The office was quiet, Sunlight spilled through the tall windows behind the director, catching dust in the air and making it drift lazily. Asha swallowed, then straightened his back.
"Well, it's simple," Asha said. "I want to be a superhero just like my father. I want to save people who are helpless, save a kitten that's too scared to jump down from a tree. Long story short, I want to be a legendary superhero."
As he spoke, the words poured out faster, like he had been holding them in for years. By the time he finished, a wide smile had spread across his face. He did not even realize it was there. It was the kind of smile that came from hope, not confidence.
"Asha Grey, right?" the director asked.
"Yes, that's my name."
The director nodded slowly, fingers tapping together once before stopping.
"When you're about to make a very delicious meal, there's always one important ingredient," he said. "For instance, you need potatoes to make fries. You need potatoes to make mashed potatoes. You need potatoes to make baked potatoes."
The words hung in the air.
Asha blinked.
What is his deal with potatoes? Asha thought.
"My deal with potatoes?" the director said without missing a beat. "Thanks for asking. My mother fed me potatoes until I became a full grown man, and that made me a potato lover. God bless her soul."
Asha's smile twitched.
Oh my god. Is he reading my mind?
"I am not reading your mind," the director said calmly. "But your thoughts happen to be so loud that I can't ignore them. The point is this. You don't have a potato. There are no signs of a potato in you. From kindergarten to middle school, you've shown no potato."
He adjusted his glasses and finally looked directly at Asha. The lenses reflected the light, hiding his eyes just enough to make Asha uneasy.
"To be a superhero, you need to have the super. But you're just a hero with no super. Fries with no potato. Still, because your father was the greatest superhero in Super City, you've been allowed into high school."
The director's lips curved slightly, not quite a smile.
"So let's see, Asha Grey, how are you going to survive high school without a potato? But first things first. Welcome to Super Academy."
The words should have felt like victory.
Instead, they landed heavy.
When every child is brought into this world, the first thing doctors check is what type of superpowers they have.
The room is usually filled with anticipation. Parents hold their breath. Machines hum softly. A small glow, a spark, a flicker of something impossible often follows. Flight. Laser eyes. Super speed. Super strength. Super healing. Every kind of ability imaginable.
But Asha was born with super nothing.
Still, his parents loved him for who he was and never complained. His mother held him the same way she would have if he had shattered the ceiling with a scream. His father smiled the same proud smile he wore in newspapers and interviews.
His father even nicknamed him Baby Stealer.
Asha never really understood what the nickname meant. He had never stolen anything in his life. Not toys. Not candy. Not even glances. Though, as he grew older, he admitted he did have a cute baby face. People told him that a lot.
As he grew up, watching other kids do things he could never do pushed him to his limits.
Kids ran faster than bikes. Kids floated above playground swings. Kids laughed as they jumped from heights that should have broken bones. Asha watched from the ground, fists clenched, heart pounding.
Maybe I have powers, he thought. Maybe I just haven't discovered them yet.
Once, he climbed to the top of a tall slide. His knees shook as he looked down. Other kids had jumped from higher and landed laughing. He closed his eyes and jumped.
Pain exploded through his leg.
He woke up later with a broken knee and his father sitting beside the bed, eyes filled with fear instead of disappointment.
He tried running as fast as he could after that. Every day. Until his chest burned and his lungs screamed. There was no super speed.
Another time, he nearly fell from a story high building. The wind rushed past him. The ground raced closer. Strong arms wrapped around him at the last second.
His father caught him just in time.
That night, Asha cried quietly into his pillow, careful not to let anyone hear.
"I wish I had a potato," Asha muttered.
The cafeteria buzzed with noise, laughter, and the clatter of trays. He sat down with his two best friends, Dean and Kira, best friends since preschool. They had always been there. Always close. Always honest, sometimes painfully so.
The three of them settled at a table near the center of the room. Asha stared down at his tray. The mashed potatoes sat there, pale and steaming.
"You do have a potato," Kira said, taking a bite. "It's mashed. Or does it not taste like potatoes?"
She chewed thoughtfully, then nodded.
"See? It tastes like potato."
"No, Kira," Dean said quietly. "He means superpowers."
"Oh, that's another session with Director Davis," Kira said. "Looks like you now call superpowers potatoes. I'm telling you, very soon he's going to replace the word superpower with potato completely. But just accept the fact, you'll never have superpowers. And we love you with or without them."
She said it plainly, without cruelty. Kira never beat around the bush. She always said exactly what was on her mind.
"Hey, at least give him hope," Dean said. "What if he has superpowers but just doesn't know it yet?"
"Dean, you have to stop that," Kira replied. "Giving him hope makes him do risky things. Things we end up saving him from. After all, you said you were going to tell him the truth."
The two of them continued arguing.
Asha stopped listening.
He stared at his tray, then at the room around him. At students casually floating above chairs. At sparks flickering between fingers. At power being treated like nothing more than a party trick.
He wondered, not for the first time, why he was friends with them in the first place.
Then the air shifted.
Heat brushed against his skin.
A red haired boy appeared out of nowhere, forming a fireball in his palm and sending it straight at Asha.
The impact knocked him off his seat. The world spun as he hit the ground hard. The table rattled but held, its surface glowing briefly as it absorbed the heat. Nothing caught fire.
Asha's hair smoked.
The smell of burnt fabric filled the air. He hated this.
Just because they had superpowers did not mean they had the right to show off and hurt others.
"Asha, are you okay?" Dean and Kira said at the same time.
They rushed to help him up. Asha brushed their hands away gently and stood on his own. His eyes were locked on the red haired boy.
He walked toward him.
"Hey," Asha said. "Do you have something to say?"
The boy turned, eyes cold.
"What?" he said, standing up from his table and shoving one hand into his pocket.
"Your fireball hit me," Asha said. "I'm assuming it was a mistake. But you're supposed to say sorry."
It was not a mistake.
His name was Mason. One of Asha's tormentors since preschool. Whenever Mason spotted him, it was always his mission to remind Asha that he was powerless.
"Looks like you're doing just fine, Asha," Mason said with a smirk. "I don't have to say sorry since you're not dead."
"Say sorry," Asha demanded.
Mason laughed. Another fireball formed in his hand, rolling lazily across his palm.
"What are you going to do?" Mason said. "You don't have any superpowers. You're useless. So tell me, what can a powerless boy like you do to make me say sorry?"
He leaned closer, voice low.
"That first one was just for fun. This one will burn you for sure."
Asha stared at the fire. Took a deep breath.
Then he turned away.
If this were strength against strength, Asha would have punched him in the gut. But against powers like this, he swallowed his pride and walked back to his seat.
"That's right," Mason sneered. "Turn around like a scared little kitten, powerless bastard."
The cafeteria went silent.
A food tray slammed into Mason's face.
The impact sent him flying across the room. He hit the ground hard, skidding to a stop. Trays clattered. Gasps filled the air.
Everyone stared.
"I may not have superpowers," Asha said calmly, "but I know how to use objects as weapons well enough to knock your smiling teeth out."