He is sitting there quietly with the other children.
It is a big initiative that makes my father look good – train foster boys up to join the armed forces or become policemen – and I think that for all its triviality, it is good enough.
He wishes for them all to be tough heroes, but will accept them however they turn out. They sit together, mouths full, laughing at this or that.
is different from the start.
My abilities, new as they are, do not feel as I thought powers ought to. It has been gradual – a process of ‘unlocking’ them.
I train in private, running mostly, but also swimming and jumping and shooting. Until last year, my trainer would list facts and figures and howl at me how ‘mere men can do that’.
This year, I have been doing things that men cannot. His silence was an odd thing. I barely noticed when he was dismissed, unable to teach me anymore.
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