I can't see the numbers, but "hero" for Percy Jackson and Frank Zhang :) I'm :) sure :) this :) will :) lead :) to :) non-painful :) things :)
“So, superheroes are next on the list.” I said, flopping down on the couch beside Frank.
His eyebrows shot up. “You have a list?”
I dug in my jeans pocket and handed him the scrap of notebook paper. “Have yourself a look.” I grinned. “Spider-Man is first.”
Frank’s brow furrowed. “This isn’t your handwriting.”
“You mean it’s not chicken scratches?” I shook my head. “My mom wrote it out. I just suggested things.”
“I think this is every even marginally popular superhero movie released since 1970.”
I cracked open a can of Coke, enjoying the hiss. “We’re catching Hazel up on nearly a century of pop culture. It’s kind of extensive.”
“You have Christopher Nolan on here.”
I shrugged. Truthfully, he wasn’t my favorite, but still. “Critically acclaimed. Therefore, pop-culturally important.” I glanced up. Frank was still frowning. “Not a fan of the Batman?”
“Not this one, at least.” His fingers tapped restlessly on the sofa cushion between us.
I grabbed his hand and anchored it to the couch. “Nervous?”
“Thinking.” Frank met my eyes. He looked oddly earnest, as usual. “Is Batman a hero to you?”
“I don’t know. I guess.” I gestured vaguely with the Coke can. “I mean, he’s kind of cranky. But I can relate.” I released his hand; he intertwined our fingers anyway. “What’s a hero to you?”
Frank pursed his lips. His expression was deeply thoughtful. Lately, he thought about every question I asked like it was the million dollar question on a game show. “I guess…Superman. Not him, specifically, but the ideals?”
“Truth, justice, and the American way?” I guessed.
He laughed. “Something like that. You know, duty, honor. Helping people.”
I smiled. Frank was one of the people in the world that made me glad the world had people. “Like your mom.”
For a second, I thought I’d overstepped my bounds. But Frank smiled at me, and my chest warmed again. “Yeah.”
I scooted closer, clutching my drink and hoping it wouldn’t spill on my mom’s new couch. He didn’t react much when I bumped his shoulder. “A lot like you.”
He looked surprised, like a puppy who’d gotten poked in the side. “Really?”
“Yeah.” I set down the Coke can so I could hold his other hand. His thumb automatically circled out over my wrist. I wondered if he could feel my heartbeat.
I looked him steady in the eyes. “You’re my hero, Frank.”
He blushed strawberry-red, and it was probably the cutest thing I’d seen all month.
Something made a loud snapping noise behind us.
Hazel was standing in the entrance to the living room, holding a camera and wearing a pleased smile. “Are you guys being sappy again?”
“What did we say about the Polaroids, Hazel?” I tried and failed to sound scolding. The shaky voice matching Frank’s blush might have had something to do with it.
“You said I was acclimating very well to modern culture through artistic expression.”
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t say it like that.” I muttered.
She put down the camera on the table and sat next to me, curling her legs under her. “If you’re going to have me watch five hours of Sam Raimi, you can let me take pictures of you. Besides,” She leaned forward and picked up the photograph the camera had spit out. “You look cute.”
I peered at the photo and my cheeks heated. From the angle Hazel had, you could mostly see Frank blushing and me leaning in to talk to him. It looked almost like we were kissing.
I passed it to Frank. “We do.”
He looked at me and said, utterly poker-faced, “We’re cute as heck.”
I handed Frank the first DVD, picked up my mom’s list, and crossed off Batman Begins.
