Fiction by Sheldon Lee Compton

Sheldon Lee Compton is the author of twelve books of fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. His novel, Oblivion Angels, is currently nominated for the Chaffin Award for Fiction, and the Independent Fiction Alliance named his novel, Alice, a best book of the year. His work has also been published in Best Small Fictions 2019 and Best Small Fictions 2022.

Superboy

He’s little, only a couple years older, existing in that golden time of life before school and right after the playpen. His bedroom is the world; mysterious areas outside the house are celestial bodies to plant his flags. And moving through this galaxy is no problem for someone with superhuman abilities.

It’s the third day he’s worn the same towel safety-pinned around his neck even though there have been significant spillages — Ravioli sauce on the first day, Kool-Aid for day two, and a long, green swath on the next. He couldn’t figure out where it had come from, but it didn’t smell great.

His mother leaned forward from her place on the couch and tapped him on the shoulder.

He always sat between her feet if he wasn’t playing and preferred to watch whatever was on television. This was often soap operas but every now and then a game show or, on Saturday mornings, Mr. Cartoon and Beeper.

“We have to go to the store today,” she said.

He wasn’t crazy about trips. But the store could be a good one.

“I’ll have to get Kenton to drive us.” She said it with a grave seriousness, making it clear there was no other option.

He balked and sat thinking for a few seconds.

“Can we get Eggo waffles?”

She pursed her lips and hesitated before saying, “I don’t know, sweet boy. We’ll see.”

A chance alone of Eggo waffles would be worth Kenton taking them. She pulled a puffy winter coat tightly around him and put on her jacket and the two of them walked through the snow to the neighbor’s house.

In the front yard were three old boxy cars and one rusted out truck. There was a newer model van parked under a metal canopy. His Mom squeezed his hand tight on the way up the steps to the front porch. When she knocked, he got a twisted feeling in his stomach; it always happened when he and his Mom were about to see anybody else. They spent so much of their time together and with no one else. It had become his default comfort zone. Other people meant possible problems, a disruption to the routine, and sometimes worse.

He remembered little from the time when his father was still with them, and what he could recall bothered him. He saw nothing from that time, no images flashing through his mind, no visions replaying terrible incidents, but he knew what had happened. His father screaming, his mom crying even louder than his father could yell. And scuffling, sometimes against the walls and others when they were in the floor, his father pinning her arms above her head while continually headbutting her.

So as the door opened, he readied himself. He conjured up his superhuman senses, the strength and lightning speed, and, most essentially, his power to read minds.

“Hey lady,” Kenton said, and flashed a big stupid smile. “Thought you’d never come back over. It’s been awhile.” He bent and put his skinny hand on the boy’s shoulder, pressing the long, boney fingers into his muscles. “And how you been, buddy? I think I only saw you one time before, way back when you all were moving in.”

There was no way he was going to talk to Kenton. He was obviously an arch villain.

Even at such a young age (maybe because of his age) he could see through a person to who they were at their core. Of course, he counted this among his many abilities, like x-ray vision for seeing good and bad. And Kenton was not good. It was easy to tell he faked it a lot.

His and his mom’s lives were not easy, and it developed in them sharp eyes for the Kentons of the world. It’s one of a few reasons he couldn’t understand his mom still having anything to do with him. It would be easier if they just bought a car of their own.

“We get a ride to the IGA?”

Kenton grinned this time. No flashy smile. The arch villain part of him was showing. He could tell the grin said more than he could understand, but he knew for certain he didn’t trust it.

In his bones he didn’t trust it, and, suddenly, he was worried. Not yet scared, but not far from it, either.

“Sure thing, you fine, fine lady. I can do you that kindness,” Kenton said. “You gonna be up late tonight?”

His mom took her arm and placed it on hire boy’s chest and maneuvered him behind her.

From there all he could manage to hear were low words, and a giggle here and there from Kenton, his mom sighing in defeat.

Kenton’s van was the kind from the late 70s and early 80s with a bed built into the back.

In front of it, screwed into the roof, was a gold-painted curtain rod holding a a thick purple curtain edged with little, fuzzy balls. The curtains were pulled together, but he could see the bed didn’t have sheets and there was one big stain right in the middle about the size of their tv stand at home.

“We’ll just be a minute,” his mom told Kenton, and then she was out of the van and pulling the side door open so fast it startled him and made him need to use the bathroom. He said he needed to go number one real bad.

“Hang on. They got a bathroom in here.”

She snapped her words off the way she did when she was nervous and thinking of his mom being nervous made him need to use the bathroom even more. He pinched himself off through his jogging pants.

]“I’m gonna go, I’m gonna go, can’t hold it!”

She shushed him and he was able to pinch harder while twisting and was just able to hold on.

The bathroom was in the back of the store and meant for employees only, but his mom worked at the store when she was still in school and knew a couple of the employees. One took them back. It was strange to see the private area of IGA, like walking around in someone else’s dream. The sights, sounds, and scents disoriented him. It was all bigger than he thought it would be, bigger than the main store by a lot. All the way in the back were huge, square openings where trucks were backing in and pulling out. Two or three boys were unloading the trucks.

Everywhere smelled of disinfectant but tinged with the earthy odor of stale mop water. He saw a corpulent man who seemed made only of blubber sat in a small office beside the men’s restroom.

There was a single piece of paper on his desk and he wasn’t looking at it. Instead, he watched the two of them slip quietly into the restroom.

After using the bathroom, he stepped out and his mom was gone. He didn’t panic right away. The man in the office beside him had moved only a bit. He now held the piece of paper close to his face and read intently. After a few seconds, the man noticed him.

“She went that way,” he said, and pointed to the area where boys were unloading the trucks.

He didn’t want to go near the boys. They seemed angry and in a rush. They didn’t speak to one another. He tried to spot his mom so he could call for her instead. Then, suddenly, the man was beside him.

“Com’on I’ll take you to her,” he said.

Before he could say anything, the big man clutched his shoulder and began leading across the floor. As they moved toward the middle of the room, it seemed to get even bigger. The ceiling was taller than his school building and he could see huge metal beams crossing in every direction. There were three massive lights with bulbs as big as bathtubs and he thought he could hear humming coming from them.

“There she is buddy,” the man said. He let go of his shoulder and immediately began walking back to his office.

He watched him go, how he swayed back and forth to tipping points, left sway right sway left, like that, until finally getting back to his desk where he plopped down and went back to studying his paper.

His mom was circled with three other women; two of them wore shirts with emblems of the grocery store’s logo on them and the other had on a long, flower-print dress and fiddled with her glasses, adjusting the thick, pink frames on and off and back onto the bridge of her round little nose. He wondered if the lady in the dress and the man in the office owned the store and if they were married or if they even knew each other. Then he noticed two of the boys whispering.

He became sure they were whispering about his mom. She was a pretty woman, he knew that, and not an old woman. Sometimes men and boys like these two did talk to her. He could always tell when these men and boys wanted to come home with them, because they followed them and kept talking and talking. But they weren’t coming home with them. Not ever.

His mom saw the boys whispering and waved at them. It was a playful wave. He had seen it a thousand times, like when they were at the park and she would wave from a bench where she always sat while he moved lightning fast around the monkey bars, flew through the air from one slide to the next. She’d smile and wave when he checked to see if she’d been paying attention. I see you.

He waved to the men.

He had the super ability to see through things.

I see you.

He waved until they saw him.

I see you.