by Tobias Christopher
My name is Tobias Christopher, but my buddies call me T.C. Well, if I had buddies. You see, I've never been what's known as a team player. Until recently, I've been alone for almost as long as I can remember.
It all started when my mom left me and my dad when I was five. Dad was always working -- he was a police officer -- and never spent any time at home, which pretty much left me to raise myself. Luckily, I was born with a metagene. I guess we lived near a toxic waste dump before I was born, or my mom stood too close to the microwave while she was pregnant. Either way, I was able to do things faster than anyone I ever knew, which was cool.
Then, when I was twelve, my dad died. I never knew how or why it happened. Having no one to take care of me, and not wanting to go to a foster home, I ran away. I was on the streets for two years, supporting myself by using my speed to take what I needed, like clothes and food.
Then one day I was caught swiping some fruit. I would have gotten away if I hadn't twisted my ankle tripping over an alley cat. I was sent to a juvenile detention center until my eighteenth birthday. As luck would have it, that damn cat was waiting for me. Every time I looked, he was right there, following me. He still follows me to this day. I call him "Li'l Jo."
Anyway, I took a job at the local diner, which pays for my cheap little motel room. But at least it's a home. I haven't decided whether or not to ever use my speed again, but one thing's for sure: No more crime. From now on, this kid's playing it straight.
I look over at the beautiful brunette lying next to me. Her name is Rebecca, a waitress from the diner. We've only been together for a few weeks, but I think I'm in love. And the sex isn't bad, either.
I get up and walk to the window. Li'l Jo is sitting outside with a saucer of milk that I left for him. This isn't the kind of life that I imagined when I was in that juvenile center. Working in a diner for five bucks an hour plus free meals and living in a run-down motel isn't my idea of living. But it's better than the alternative of living on the streets, wondering where my next meal is coming from. I look over at Rebecca and lie back down. She doesn't know about my past or my powers. Because of her, I'm no longer a loner. I want to keep it that way.
There have been rumors from some of the bums that loiter around the back alley at the diner. They say the government's out to round up all the metas. That there's some sort of secret project going on that only the major people in Washington know about.
I don't give a damn about that if it's true, as long as they leave me alone. I've got a girl, a job, a home, and -- through strange luck -- a pet. It's not the life I imagined, but it's better than my old life.
I push aside the hair hanging over Rebecca's face and nuzzle up to her. I wish we could remain like this forever, but I know better. At least I still have her and Li'l Jo by me.