An Urban Legend Has It...

Author's Note: There are many ideas about the right way to be Black and Designated Male at Birth. There are many ideas about the right way to be a super hero. I wrote this story while I was in a phase in which I wanted to challenge both. That phase has not ended, much to the chagrin of many in my life. I present to you an uncommon superhero -- a queer, fat nigga with dreadlocs. It is my sincere hope that we shall one day see many more.

"Girl, who is this nigga?"

It had only been about two minutes since I walked up on my best friend, Frieda, and her new girl. Already, I'd gotten the dreaded title of "This Nigga," a badge of shame to alert anyone within earshot that I was officially unfuckwitable. Not in the cool, badass, Wesley Snipes way (if I were, I would receive the acclaimed title of "That Nigga"), but in the lame, pitiful, Carlton Banks kind of way. All I said was "Hi" and maybe a few lines of muttered speech when Frieda tried to engage me (which was a complete betrayal on her part, she knew I was awkward) and that was enough for this chick to write me off entirely. This random-ass girl that Frieda probably picked up in some club she was too young to be in had just ripped the S of my chest and turned me into Clark Kent. Sure, I was fast, but managing to fuck this up in less than a minute was still impressive.

Despite feeling completely and utterly disrespected at that moment, I couldn't help but think about her question and how complex it was. Just who was this nigga?

If the question was sent to the government, they'd tell her that this nigga's name was Othello Richard Shannon. If she'd ask any girl at my school that wasn't Frieda, this nigga was "A Burnt Mr. StayPuft." If she'd ask any guy at my school that wasn't my other best friend, Semaj, then I became "Hey, Hey, Hey! It's Fat Faggot!" If she asked my non-best friends, I was "Othello, except he fucks with Queens" (even though they know I do not fuck with anyone), or even just "OS, cuz you damn sure ain't a OG." My aunt would tell her that my name was any variation of "Dumbass" or "Fool" or even just "You."

And on the mean streets of Charles City, I was Dynamic: The Fast-Talking, Fast-Walking Dredhead in a Hoodie. Every day, people would watch and be amazed as I'd whip inside of a bank robbery, disarm all the robbers, retrieve all the money, block off their escape routes, and immediately be shot at once the cops arrived. No one knew the identity of this mysterious superhero, but 12 was more than certain that they were going to find out, put a bullet in my helmet, and arrest me. There were a lot of superheroes running around, but for some reason the police thought I was a risk to public safety.

For a minute, the thought crossed my mind that I should just whip around the park in less than a second and let Miss Redbone Lupita (which I'd named her after deciding I no longer cared for her real name) know just who I am. But I wasn't even going to play like that. I didn't wear a red hoodie and avoid bullets cuz it was fun (it was) or cuz I just love red hoodies (I do). I did it because I had to. Being Dynamic was my job, and part of that job meant making sure that every random nigga didn't know that Dynamic was Othello Richard Shannon. To say it was my responsibility was an understatement; it was Ujima.

So yeah, I didn't mind letting Frieda's girl think that I was some pitiful, nerdy, fat kid. That's how pretty much everyone saw me, so why should I care about one more person?

"Girl, quit," Frieda began, coolly laughing it off like she did with everything, "this is my boy, Othello."

Redbone Lupita's 20-dollar eyebrow cocked up. "Who would name they child Othello? You got a white momma or something?"

"Oh," I said, "but if I had asked you that, you'd go on twitter and talk about how 'everyone hating on #TeamLightskint.'"

Frieda laughed. Redbone Lupita gave one of those angry-smiles, as though she was admitting that my joke was funny, but she was still trying to let me know she'd beat my ass later. Internally, I sighed, because I knew that once again jokes were the only way I wouldn't be treated like your cousin's mixtape. I didn't like having to play the fool all the time, but, shit, if it stopped me from being This Nigga, I was all for it.

"Ohshit, I forgot to ask," Frieda suddenly said, "you are gonna slide through tonight, yeah?"

I didn't want to. I liked hanging with Semaj and Freida, but I didn't feel like dealing with Redbone. I already knew that if I actually did go out with them then I'd spend the whole night taking shots from both her and Semaj. But at the same time, it would have been weird for me to say 'no' since I always go with them. Frieda asking was just a formality, it was part of a social constitution that I was not about to break.

"Thinking about it," I began, "also thinking about putting in extra time at work."

It wasn't a complete lie. While I was running down a van full of kidnapped kids earlier that morning, the thought crossed my mind that I should put more time in as Dynamic. Sure, there were other superheroes all across the country but there was no one out there protecting the hood, and I knew my niggas needed me. But my niggas also needed me to be active more than just when I was in school. I didn't want to hear shit from my aunt, so I already knew that I couldn't just start ditching. The only option would be to start cutting into the time I spent with Frieda and Semaj, which meant no more going up on Fridays. And yeah, I did like hanging out with Semaj and Freida, but lately I'd been wondering if I'd even really be missed.

Naturally, Frieda jokingly begged and pleaded with me in an attempt to make me change my mind. I told her that I wasn't sure, but that I'd decide later. After making an excuse about having shit to do, I said a quick "later" to her and Redbone (who just looked away without saying anything), then ran off. You know, slowly, like a normal person.

Then, when I was certain that the couldn't see me, I jacked my speed up to about 380. While the wind hit me with the force of a brick wall and my heartbeat went so fast I couldn't detect it, I was finally able to think clearly. I wasn't really interested in spending yet another night watching drinks and purses, especially if one of them belonged to that Redbone chick. I began to wonder if hanging with Frieda and Semaj really was worth constantly being reminded just how poorly I fit in.

#

I'd like to preface these next statements with an expression of both "No Homo" and "No Hetero."

Semaj and Frieda are fine as all hell and a bit extra. But that was the problem.

Frieda was adept at pulling chicks that were twice her age and just as fine. I saw her with so many girls that I was convinced that she was somehow pulling straight hoes, too. Cuz there was no way that there were this many out Black girls in our town. Tall, short, fat, skinny, natural hair, weave, if she existed and got niggas holl'in at her while she walks down the street, Freida would eventually have her sipping on wine coolers on a bench in the park. All this was cuz Frieda was one of those handsome/pretty bi girls. She had the perfect balance of male and female features, so damn near everyone was into her. Not too tall, not too thin, safe skin tone so even dudes that swore they weren't colorstruck (i.e., the most colorstruck niggas) could point her out and be declared "not colorist." Her face was square at the top, but narrow at the bottom, giving her the type of fierce beauty that supermodels pay money to manufacture. Even her hair was the perfect 3b type, so she could be as Black as she needed to at any given moment. Frieda was the very definition of effortless beauty because she could (and often did) walk around in a hoodie that was too big for her and some denim booty shorts and people would swear they saw her on tv.

Semaj was a different type of attractive. To quote the great writer, Aaron McGruder, Semaj was a "sexy-flexy ass nigga." Just like Freida, Semaj was a Safe Shade nigga: not so dark that you thought he was going to rape you, but not so light that he was weak and effeminate. He was the perfect shade that was right between both those extremes, and that made him attractive by societal standard. That was the only part of Semaj that was natural and inherent to him, everything else was something he created so people couldn't help but know that he was fine. His 8-pack was the product of doing an obscene amount of sit-ups every five hours, for no reason other than to look good. His entire ensemble was a mix between an 80s B-Boy and a modern sneakerhead, but he knew how to finesse his look to give himself an air of sophistication and class. He wore hoodies and t-shirts like any other nigga, but they were all designer, like the shit Kanye makes. On weekends he spent most of his time cleaning and dying his Air 1s, so they always looked as clean and pristine as the day he bought them. Big watches have always been tacky, but Semaj compensated for that by only buying minimalist watches with simple designs, and his belt buckles were never audaciously adorned with fake diamonds or gold paint. When his Rich OG style was combined with waves on his head better than the Avatar could produce, there was hardly a straight chick in a thirty-mile radius that could stand to look at him for less than ten seconds. Then, once he hit with his Neo-Soul affected speech (a combination of pure MLK St. Nigganese and a random sprinkling of SAT words), he was more intoxicating than anything he claimed to sling on the side. Semaj's entire persona was the very definition of slick, yet it was manufactured. And I couldn't help but respect him for it.

Their personalities were also a huge boost in their social appeal. Both Semaj and Freida were natural around people in a way that I never could be. Frieda was a genuinely nice, good listener that everyone knew they could depend on, whereas Semaj was analytically charismatic in a way that allowed him to become any type of person he needed to at a given moment. With their powers combined, they were invited to every party, cookout, and church service that occurred in our neighborhood. Because of them, I knew everyone, but Freida and Semaj were the only people that everyone knew.

Then there was me, The Burnt Mr. Staypuft. The Blackass Fatass with the Longass Dreads. The nigga that buys his clothes from Walmart, watch from Bikini Bottom, and his kicks from Salvation Army. The nigga that went out on a Friday night with pockets full of rubbers and lube, then returned home with a bunch of high-fives, expressions of "My man," and grateful friends but not a single notch on his own bedpost. I wasn't really out here checking for nobody, but sometimes I had to wonder if that was my own asexuality or if it was just cuz I already knew that no one was checking for me. Similarly, I wasn't running around looking for a new crew, or the type of clout that I'd attract from stuntin' (I actually save enough money to buy Semaj's entire wardrobe, but I was saving for adult shit, so technically I was broke). But a man can only tell himself that everyone else has the problem for so long. I didn't want to be Semaj, and I didn't want to be Freida, I just wished that I had that option.

Funniest, most cliched, and all-around fucked up thing was that while Othello Richard Shannon didn't have that option, Dynamic did. Literally everyone hates the fat, dark, possibly Not Straight, nerdy, dread head niggas until they put on a hoodie and outrun a van with kidnapped children inside. Dynamic was out here changing the wholeass game. Now, anytime a fat dude was running, instead of laughing at him, people were seriously and wholeheartedly laughing with him as he pronounced, "Hey, look ya'll! I'm Dynamic!" Little, fat niggas in elementary school weren't walking around with low-hanging heads so people would sympathize with them, and they weren't trying to intimidate all the smaller kids so people would respect them either; the "husky" boys tapped to play football were happy with themselves in a way I'd never seen before. All around town, the dark, fat dudes with locs stopped having to make ourselves look like clowns and fools or hang around street corners so we could practice being "hard." We were just out here, being ourselves, and loving ourselves. Dynamic started a whole-ass revolution, but Othello wasn't reaping any of the benefits. Because even though Dynamic was making progress with his cocky smiles delivered at traffic cams while he was running about 129 on I-29, Dynamic was a demigod to be revered behind shrines. The rest of us were just Rasta/Banger Fat Albert; we were either jokes or criminals at the end of the day.

Needless to say, I was a bit pissed off at the thought of spending yet another Friday in yet another club while my so-called friends abandoned me to watch the drinks for roofies, so they could go off doing every damn thing except plant a baby on the dance floor.

#

The night started off much like every night always does. Semaj rolled up to the corner of MLK and Mahalia Jackson to pick us up. Sometimes he'd have a girl (no shorter than 5'7, he "don't mess with real shawties"), sometimes he'd wait to pick one up at whatever club/frat party/house party/kickback we were headed to for that night. Freida would always have a girl with her already, cuz she went out much more often than either of us did, but some nights she'd have a completely different girl's snapchat by the end of the festivities. We'd ride for a few minutes while Semaj blared trap, so we'd be prepared for the club. Upon arrival, we'd be stopped from going in (none of us were even close to 18), so Semaj would turn his charm on whoever was gatekeeping. Somehow, it was always one of his cousins. Somehow, we'd always find a table/couch/counter where we could all sit comfortably. The night didn't officially begin until Semaj heard something he wanted to dance to, at which point I'd be left to watch whatever was left behind so everyone else could dance. Eventually, they'd become tired, come back, and we'd all talk and make jokes. This cycle would repeat a few more times until we had to go home.

"Oh, shit, I know they didn't just put on the jam! Semaj, hold the fort."

I wasn't sure what song was playing, but it didn't really matter. The minute that Redbone Lupita recommended that Semaj watch all our stuff, whatever was playing seemed to stop. All around us, the party was going full blast like always, but the atmosphere changed in an odd, ineffable way. The best way that I can think of to describe it is to say that all of a sudden, the party stopped being a real setting we were in, and was directed to the side, like it wasn't even real.

"I mean," I began, not entirely sure why I was actually volunteering to be a doormat, "I don't mind watching the stuff. It's not like I'm here with anyone or anything. Plus, I usually do it."

Her tone was suspicious, but in a playful way. "I don't want to alarm you, but whatever girl you're seeing riding Semaj right now is as imaginary as, well, the last girl to ride you, I'm assuming."

Even though it was a dig at me, it felt like an even bigger dig at Semaj. I laughed. That said, I still didn't really want to go. I wasn't that into parties, the only reason I went was for my friends. So, I didn't see any reason why Semaj couldn't go instead of me, like always. I wasn't really looking for his approval, but it wouldn't have hurt to get it.

"She's right, man."

I stared at him, uncertain whether he really meant it or not. His entire expression changed in a second, going from a stoic stare to an almost too-happy smile. "Go out there and fetch you some pussy, cuz I KNOW yo ass is hungry."

Internally, I grimaced. It wasn't the joke that bothered me (I was used to that from him), but that I'd basically fallen for peer pressure. Redbone Lupita, a girl that didn't even have a real name, had forced me out of my routine. What was wrong with sitting around and talking to my friends after they get crossfaded? Why did I have to be subjected to the same germs that endangered them every time they crawled into the orgy we called a dance floor? I didn't want to party, I didn't see any fun in it. But I didn't let on because the only thing worse than being the weird nigga that doesn't want to get swerved on, is being the weird nigga openly stating such.

Luckily, Freida and Redbone were in less of a dancing mood and were more interested in mingling. Freida led us around the room, introducing us to some of her various other friends, acquaintances, and exes. I'd already become used to meeting her exes (for some reason, Freida had never had a bad breakup or a jealous ex), but I was certain that Redbone was going to find the entire matter strange and awkward, considering she was being introduced to basically half the club on what I'm assuming was her first real date with Freida. She surprised me by fitting right in with everybody even better than I could. No sooner would Freida go, "You may remember Othello. This is my girl," then Redbone would immediately take over the entire conversation, laughing with whoever she was talking to as if they were old friends. In a way, it felt kind of invalidating. Here I was, coming out of my shell and shit, really interacting with people at a club for probably the first time, and the random girl that Freida pulled out of nowhere was just effortlessly assimilating to the entire social circle.

I was happy when Redbone announced that she needed a drink, prompting us to head back to our table. I was even happier when I saw a giant, blonde-streaked afro sitting next to Semaj while he had his hand on hers in a sensitive, delicate way. For once, I wasn't even pissed that yet another girl was flocking around Semaj just for existing. As long as this meant that I didn't have to smile in front of people that barely talked to me any other day, I was fine.

Freida and I departed from the table to order and carry everyone's drinks. For the first time that day, we had a chance to really talk. I could tell that Freida had been anticipating an individual conversation even more than I was, cuz I wouldn't have understood a word she was saying if I couldn't process information faster than the average human.

"Ok, what do you think about Redbone? Do you like her? I think you'd like her, I think she'd like you. Yeah, she's been lowkey ribbing you all night, but at least it's not as bad as Semaj can get, right? Besides, I have a feeling you two would get along if you, like, really got to know each other, you know? Like, there's something special about her, about both of you. I really want you two to be friends because I think I might stick with her for a while, and you're my best friend so you kinda have to like her, please like her. Do you like her?" She said all of this in about fifteen seconds.

I laughed, "You just said a whole lot of l-words that denote feelings, you know."

Surprisingly, she smirked. I mean, the smirk wasn't as surprising as the fact that in doing so, she'd over-played her hand. Semaj and I often joked that "Freida was a straight pimp that wasn't actually straight." Her smirking when I basically insinuated that she caught feelings, actual, legitimate, real feelings for this girl was surprising. The Freida I was used to would have put me on just for suggesting something like that.

"What happened to living your best life," I asked her, parroting the line she used whenever she wanted to defend macking on every girl she saw. She didn't respond to that, and I couldn't tell if it was because she was trying to avoid the topic, or if she was seriously considering her answer. It wasn't until after we ordered everyone's drinks and began our return to the table that I received a response. Semaj, the random girl he was with for tonight, and Redbone were all sitting together, laughing and singing along to the song playing overhead. They all looked positive, as though they'd been friends before even birth. Freida turned to me and formed a grin even wider than the ones they were all sporting.

"I consider this living my best life," she began, "because I found another person I want to live my best life with."

Ever since I started running around in a hoodie and scarf, tying Alt-Right protesters' shoe laces together, I had never encountered anything that could slow me down. When Freida said what she did, I finally found something that could steal my momentum. I never use this word, but ya boy was astonished. For the first time that night, I fully conceptualized the reality of Redbone being part of our crew. That bothered the hell out of me.

Freida walked on, and I eventually followed after her. But that was only after standing in the middle of the dance floor with drinks in my hand, mouth agape like I was trying to trap fish. I was off guard when Freida made that big reveal. The closer I got, the more I started to think about myself in relation to my so-called friends. I was staring at a table of conventionally attractive, outgoing people that could be dropped in the middle of any social situation and make their way. Sure, Freida and Redbone would always have to deal with being Black girls that liked other Black girls, but as tonight had shown, they were still able to fit in better than I was. I was the odd man out because I was the type of guy that no one wanted to be friends with. I didn't fit in anywhere, and I was beginning to wonder if I didn't fit in with my friends anymore. If Freida could find someone to occupy her time, so could Semaj, and I already knew his car couldn't fit five people if one of them was my size.

"About time," Semaj said when I finally reached the table, "you can't afford to be slow, man." He laughed at his own joke. I made some excuse about losing my train of thought, but he wouldn't have it.

"Nah, bruh, I know you. You was in your mind, pondering hitting up some thickie on the dance floor, weren't you?" Again, Semaj laughed at his own joke. He and I both knew that I wasn't checking for anyone.

"No, and even if I was," I trailed off, opting not to finish the thought because I didn't want anyone to accuse me of ruining the night.

Redbone surprised me when she called out Semaj, "Damn, nigga. This ya boy and you're not even going to tell him he's wrong? That's just cold."

Without missing a beat, Semaj turned to her, "You're new, kid. This is Othello's pattern. He laments his own involuntary celibacy, then I remind him that he's a catch."

"Not everyone seems to think that," I mumbled. I knew there was no way they could hear me over Kendrick Lamar screaming about his DNA, but somehow they all knew what I said.

"Look," Semaj said to me, "you're smart, you're funny, and you don't have a baby mama. At least, not yet. Once you ease your ass on down the road and ask The Wiz for some aplomb, you'll be pulling so many hoes that we gonna have to change your last name to something that begins with 'G.'"

"Yeah," Redbone said, "like, if you only learned how to spit at a girl, you might have a chance. It's a dying art, but it still works on some."

I closed my eyes and begged God that, when I opened them, the first thing I saw wouldn't be Semaj's smiling face. But as years of getting jumped had already taught me, God doesn't take requests.

"Oh, this nigga can spit." Semaj turned away from me, directing his attention to Frieda. I could tell from just his face he was going to tease her for not telling Redbone about the informal cyphers we always got into. She shot him a look in response that said, "Dear God, don't bring that up."

"Yeah, using freestyle to rib on each other is some stereotypical, nigga shit," Semaj began, "but, fuck it. We some niggas. And Othello is the biggest nigga here."

I knew Semaj well enough to recognize one of his attempts at flattery. However, I didn't feel flattered, because it honestly didn't feel like a compliment. I liked rap, and I liked rapping, sure. But it didn't seem fair to battle people when my superspeed allowed me to talk faster than most could think and think faster than any person could even fathom. A few seconds felt like hours to me when I was vibrating at top speed, which meant that I had hours to think up a verse whereas anyone else only had a few seconds. Me in a rap battle is like The Hulk in a wrestling match, it's not a fair match-up unless you can find someone with the same ability. That was the main reason I only practiced with Semaj and Freida, they both knew about my powers, so freestyling with them felt fairer, in a way. Which was honestly kinda dumb, because when we did it we didn't even see it as a competition. Still, I liked knowing that my friends weren't overestimating my ability.

"I do all right," I said, hoping he would drop the topic.

Another coy smirk, another coy statement professing that I needed confidence.

"You know," the girl on his arm said, "they're about to start an amateur competition on the stage in a minute. My cousin's the DJ, so I could get you on the roster even though it's late, if you want."

Semaj thought that was a great idea, "Come on, OS. Get up there, show these niggas who you are."

I said that I didn't like competition. An excuse, but also a plea to Semaj, who knew well enough why I wasn't interested.

"What if Semaj went with you?" Redbone asked.

Semaj's grin disappeared as he turned to face Redbone, "Othello, is that what you want? I will if you ask."

I silently shook my head. Which was dumb, cuz he couldn't see me since he was looking at Redbone.

His smirk returned. "Okay, it's fine, I get it. If you don't want to go onstage, I won't force you. But I'm most definitely about to go up there and put these mumblin niggas on blast."

With that, Semaj and his girl got up and walked towards the stage, to beg her cousin to put him on. No one really said anything for a minute, until Freida expressed that she was "disappointingly sober," and abandoned us for the bar, fumbling for her older sister's ID in her pocket.

"A shame about Janine," Redbone said. For a minute, I didn't realize that she was talking to me. I asked her to repeat herself, so she did so while also clarifying, "I mean, that she's about to wind up grinding with R. Kelly's trapping cousin tonight."

"Who?" I asked.

"Semaj. He's R. Kelly's trapping cousin cuz, you know, dresses like he does and thinks his rhymes make him the pied piper."

"No, who's Janine?"

Redbone smirked and asked if they were all so faceless to me that I didn't bother learning their names. I realized then that she was talking about the girl that had just left with Semaj. I told her that it was just because Janine never told me her name, and she retorted that I never asked. I didn't know what to say to that, so we sat in silence for a while.

"We leaving ain't shit niggas behind in 2018, you know," she said, breaking the silence.

I sighed. "When she gets back, I'll apologize."

Redbone shook her head. "Not you. I mean Semaj."

"You think she should ghost the dude?"

"Yeah. And you, too," she said as she played with a cherry in her glass.

"Why me?"

"Not for the reason you're thinking, I'll tell you that."

I was getting nowhere with her. It was like she was trying to confuse me. "Other than not bothering to ask her name, what have I ever done to Janine? I literally just met her!"

"You haven't done anything to her."

"Then why should she ghost me?"

Redbone looked down at me like I looked at white kids buying drugs, but she didn't continue. The girl was confusing, and I didn't do confusing, so I just whipped my phone out and started scrolling through Facebook, looking for interesting memes.

One post caught my eye. It was one of those word-search puzzles with the caption "the first word you see describes your personality." I'd scrolled past a lot of them before. They were all either completely random or packed with terms that could describe anyone. So, you can imagine my surprise when my eye landed on the word, "Dynamic." In my head, I laughed at the irony.

"I don't think that's what irony is," Redbone said.

"Yeah, I know it's a coin-"

I looked away from my phone so I could look at her. Then I looked back at my phone to confirm my theory. No matter how hard I looked, the word "Dynamic" couldn't be found in the word-search. It was almost as if someone planted that shit into my head. That made me think of my earlier interaction with Semaj, and everything she'd said during it, and how she practically knew what he was thinking no matter how clever he thought he was. I thought about what Freida had said earlier, about her being special and how the both of us were special. I thought about how well this random girl was able to fit in with everyone she met that night. And I couldn't believe that I hadn't realized it before. I was an idiot, and this was precisely how I was going to get caught one day.

"I mean," Redbone began as she left her seat and moved to the one next to mine, so no one could hear us. "If it's any consolation, you're harder to read than most. Your thoughts are difficult. It's almost like you think as fast as I do, which shouldn't be possible."

"If you can read my mind," I told her, "then some other Psychic can." I knew that Psychics were rare, but that didn't mean I couldn't be pissed that I never considered the possibility of having my mind read before. I had literally read an article about this two weeks ago. Once you ignored the amount of artificially created enhanced humans, less than .1% of the human population were estimated to be enhanced by birth, and of that group, 3% possessed Level 3 Psychic ability, giving them the ability to forcibly infiltrate another person's mind. An estimated two hundred thousand people could figure out my secret and I'd never done anything to protect myself.

"Probably," Redbone responded. "That's why I approached Freida in the first place. I'm teaching her how to build psychic barriers so random girls checking her out don't accidentally hear how worried she is about her friend that just ran into a building that's been rigged to explode. I can help you both, if you want."

I was wary. Not only did I not know this chick, but she'd also been using her powers all night to make mine hell.

"Okay, okay," she began, "I admit that I didn't have the best approach, but I really was trying to help you tonight. Saying, or I guess thinking, that I was just making your night hell is just unfair. Like when we were meeting Freida's other friends, I wasn't scanning their brain for info to take up all the attention or anything, I was trying to shift the conversation into something we could all talk about."

"What about just now? Why'd you have to egg Semaj on like that?"

Her face turned sour, "The real question is why didn't you? I didn't even have to read his mind to figure out how fake that nigga is."

"I've known Semaj since I was a baby!" I argued.

"Yeah, and he's known about your powers for just as long. You know why everyone wants to be friends with Clark Kent? Because only they can look at him and see Superman. Everyone else just sees a weak, nerdy human that keeps bumping into things and having asthma attacks. Sure, Lois Lane likes both Clark and Superman, but notice that she's only married to one of them."

I didn't say anything. Her words hurt, but deep down I knew she was right. Semaj was my friend, but Freida and I knew that he wasn't a very good one. The problem wasn't just that he didn't want people to know I had powers, he didn't want anyone to know I had power over him. Semaj could be friends with a dark, queer, fat dude with locks so long as I was just a dark, queer, fat dude with locks. Semaj was my cool friend, not vice-versa.

"Well, Clark was born Kal-El," I reminded her, "he was Superman since the first breath he took. In Wonder Woman Annual 2017, Wonder Woman had Superman and Batman touch the Lasso of Truth and have them say their real names. He didn't say Clark Kent, he said Kal-El. Because he only pretends to be the nerd, that isn't who he really is. But that's who I am. Dynamic is an act, it isn't the real me. So yeah, Semaj can be a jerk, but...I mean, it's not like I have anything over him. I'm Othello, the funny nerdy friend."

I wanted to add, "and that's all I'll ever be," but I didn't. Because even I knew how pathetic and sad that sounded. I wanted her to drop the subject so I could go back to ignoring the world, but trying to keep a secret from a mind reader was impossible, she already knew what I was going to say.

She nodded empathetically, then put a hand on my shoulder, "Yeah, I read it too. But remember, when Wonder Woman asked what Bruce Wayne's real name was, under the power of divine truth he had no choice but to say 'Batman.' You talk like this huge comic nerd, but you don't realize that the whole point of characters like Batman is that we get to choose the people we can be. Dynamic isn't an act, it's who you really are."

Inspiring words, I thought, but Batman is mentally ill, so maybe not the best comparison.

"We can decide who we want to be, Othello. Shit, even in that comic, Superman didn't just call himself Kal-El, he called himself Clark first! Look at Black Panther, look at Shazzam or the fucking Avatar! They get to be their regular human selves and the super-powerful badasses at the same time. You don't have to be Semaj's nerdy friend, or anyone's nerdy friend for that matter. You can be Othello, the cool, funny nerd that's secretly a badass superhero!"

I shrugged but didn't say anything. I was hoping my own silence would make her leave me alone. At the same time, I was wondering where the hell Frieda found probably the only person in our entire neighborhood that read as many comics as I did.

"Look, it's alright that you're confused. That's the hard part about being a superhero, I think, the complexity of identity. You don't have to worry about whether Othello or Dynamic is the "real" one right now, the rest of your life will answer that question. But you do have to realize that there's nothing wrong with being just Othello."

"I know there's nothing wrong with me," I began, "I know that I can be cool and funny sometimes, but I just don't have that opportunity as Othello. People don't see something amazing when they look at me standing next to Semaj and Frieda, because they don't want to see something amazing. That's why I like being Dynamic."

"Othello," she said, "don't you get what I'm saying? You don't have to be Dynamic to be amazing."

I scoffed. I looked around the room, focusing in on random people. I stared at the dudes leaning off on the wall to the side, talking to their buddies all cool and slick. I shifted my gaze to the hard niggas frontin over near the exit, already knowing that there was about to be a fight later that night. I looked at the couples on the dance floor and tried to determine who was going to get it in that night based solely on how close they were dancing. At the bar, I noticed Freida walking back towards us, with a whole mess of crossfaded teenagers laughing at nothing funny. I looked over at Redbone Lupita, a girl that was perfect in basically every way, who stared back at me with eyes that let me know she could still read my thoughts. But that was fine, I wanted her to know exactly what I was thinking at that moment. Everything around us was the quintessential nightlife in the hood, and I was what stuck out.

"I'm not saying it'll be easy," Redbone began. "I'm just saying give it a shot. Be bold and stand out. You're not as different from everyone as you think, even if they say otherwise."

"I don't want to be another fat dude that has to be a clown to be liked."

"Then don't. But you have to be something."

I ignored her. There was absolutely nothing she could say to me to win me over.

"How about this? Go up on stage, and if you get anything less than a standing ovation, I'll leave you alone for the rest of the night."

I damn near jumped out of my seat.

Freida came by just at that moment, and I stole one of the shot glasses she carried, then downed it myself. If this went how I expected, I didn't want to remember it the next morning. Full of the same false, unearned bravado that kept me speeding into fires everyday, I took a step forward into a modern-day Ernie Barnes painting.

I won't lie, I was nervous. Luckily, the combination of alcohol and my desire to finally have Redbone Lupita shut her skinny ass up was just enough to help my mind ignore its own anxieties. My body, however, wasn't as easily distracted. Every cell that made up Othello started to vibrate and twitch, as though I was slamming through the sound barrier and not sliding past niggas in a nightclub. At one point, time began to move slower and slower, but I couldn't tell if the cause was my powers, fear, or my fear activating my powers. Really, I couldn't make sense of anything that was going on. I could have just ditched the club if I didn't want to deal with Redbone, but instead I was about to take her advice and do the one thing (okay, one of many things) that on my daddy I swore I'd never do.

"Hey, hey, hey! It's Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaat Faggot!"

The taunt caught me off guard and brought me out of my own mind. I turned around to see Chris, a dude that had been on my case since third grade. One would think that a pure shit-talker like him that looked like a broke-ass DC Young Fly wouldn't be very popular, but he was. Chris was the main nigga that harassed me on the daily, and he always seemed to find a way to get everyone else in on the action. I tried to ignore him, but like the pure fucknigga he is, he kept calling for me even after I tried to get away.

"Yo! Othello! Nigga, I know you hear me, this song ain't that good! Yo, you tryna get on the stage? What you bout to play, some Fat Boys?"

I tried to ignore him, but he sped past me and blocked me off.

"Now, come on, O. Ain't yo people supposed to be jolly? Lighten up for a minute, you not going to last a second on that stage if you can't take a joke."

"Thanks for the tip," I dismissively responded while I pushed past him and continued walking towards the stage.

"Nigga, ya grandma told me that last night!"

I tried to drown him out by listening to the music. Almost immediately, the stereo system started malfunctioning. First one song would play, then it would speed up, slow down, repeat the same line over and over, then the next song would play and the whole process happened again. The crowd booed and jeered at the DJ while he said a few hasty apologies into the mic.

That could happen to me, I thought.

"Yeah, it could," I heard Redbone say in my head.

"Real encouraging thought, thanks."

"Oh, stop being so pessimistic all the time. Look, maybe you'll bomb, and maybe you won't. Either way, you'd have tried, and you wouldn't have to deal with me for the rest of the night."

I didn't even understand why she cared about this so much. Sure, I had low self-esteem, but that was hardly her problem.

"You ever consider," she said, "that maybe I care about other people and don't like it when they put themselves down?"

That sounded way too corny for me to even dignify it with a response. But I didn't have to. Suddenly, Redbone began pointing out random people in the crowd. A nigga with an eating disorder was plotting the amount of time it would take for him to throw up in the bathroom before his friends noticed he was gone. A girl with PTSD kept eyeing another chick dancing not too far from her, thinking that she was from a rival gang. Two people on the dancefloor were high out of their minds because they were struggling not to kill themselves. Redbone was able to see every one of their life stories in an instant, and she shared it all with me.

"I can't save all these people," she began. "I wish I could, but I just can't. I probably can't even save you, but the least that I can do is get you to take the first step."

There was a brief pause in the conversation. For once, I was the one that broke it, "You still there?"

"Yeah, I'm still in your head. Don't worry, I'll leave."

"Before you do," I said with an awkward tone, "do you mind- could I- what's your name?"

I knew she laughed, even though I couldn't see or hear her from this far away. "Damé," was her response. I was sure to remember it that time.

It didn't take me long after that to reach Semaj and Janine. From just a few feet away, I noticed that something had changed since I last saw them. Janine was standing to the side of Semaj, her face hard and arms folded. Semaj was pretending like he didn't notice, chatting up a few guys from our class while "only casually" looking her way. She scowled at him each time he stole a look, prompting him to go back to talking with the others. I wasn't sure what he did, but the fact that he'd already fucked up that easily was amusing, I won't lie.

I wasn't sure how to approach Janine and ask her for the favor, so I just stood off to the side until Semaj abandoned the guys from school. After about a minute or two, he finally gave them all a few high-fives and they each walked away. He moved a bit closer to Janine, clearly attempting to apologize for whatever he did wrong.

I walked up to the two right when she was about to respond. Semaj seemed surprised to see me. That confirmed that he never expected me to agree to go on stage. I'd thrown a wrench in yet another of his attempts to make himself look good, and I knew that had to piss him off. But he was smart enough not to say anything directly.

"Hey, Janine," I said. She turned around quickly, with a surprised expression on her face. I asked if that offer to put me on the list was still open, joking that I found my courage at the bottom of a bottle of henny. She laughed, and said that she had signed me up already, guessing that I'd eventually ask her to.

"Thanks, Janine, you a real one."

Instead of responding, she turned to Semaj, "See? That nigga can remember my name, why can't you?!"

Even though he didn't have superpowers, Semaj glared at me with eyes that said, "Nigga! Read a damn room!" In most cases, I would have mouthed a quick apology and tried to help him out. However, I chose to just laugh and walk away instead. I found a spot on the wall near the stage and popped my best nigga lean while I waited for my turn. I couldn't help but look over at Semaj and Janine, who was still screaming at him for forgetting her name. I smirked yet again because it was satisfying to see this nigga finally get what he had coming to him.

After a few minutes, the DJ announced that the sound system was repaired, and the contest would start in a minute. I took a deep breath to steady myself. I wasn't terrified, but I was still nervous. Then, I heard Damé in my head again. She apologized for being rude to me at the park when we first met, and said she wanted to make up for it by letting me know something about Janine. Apparently, she had a thing for bigger dudes.