It's Sunday! [Henry]

[Israel Valencia]

If there was one thing that was still programmed in Israel’s biological clock, it was getting up early on Sundays, no exceptions. His mother had managed to drag him out of bed every Sunday for church ever since he was born, no matter how late he stayed up on Saturday night. By the time he came to Hammel it was already learned- he just rolled out of bed every Sunday morning and didn’t bother sleeping in, because there was no point in it. His mom called him every morning when she got up to go to church anyway, and if she detected even a hint of tiredness she would scold him. At least she lived in Arizona now, so even when she got up at six in the morning there was still time for him to get fully awake.

Out of bed at seven thirty, Israel pulled some cargo shorts on as he rubbed his eyes, yawning. He ran a brush through his hair before venturing out into the common area, yawning and scratching his lower back as he ventured into the kitchen to grab some breakfast. After a few moments of deliberation, he pulled a can of soda out of the fridge and shoved it into the pocket of his pants. Satisfied with his choice, he smirked before digging around in the cupboards for some cereal. Finding a box of Cap’n Crunch, he tucked it under his arm and returned to the living room.

The best part about getting up early on weekends was that no one was around to harass him about TV. Picking up the remote, he turned on the television and flipped through the stations with reckless abandon, wondering how in the world Hammel could afford cable. Finally pausing his channel search he stopped on The Simpsons- in Spanish.

Israel chuckled as he got up off the couch with a pillow in hand, holding onto it as he paused a few feet away from the nearest living room wall. He put his foot on it and forced his weight backwards, and soon he was shifted, leaning against the floor. Doing the same thing as he crossed the wall and stepped onto the ceiling, he treaded carefully around the slow-spinning ceiling fan and sat above the sofa, tucking the pilfered pillow under him as he opened the box of cereal. He grabbed his breakfast by the handful and ate, chewing as he slipped the soda from his pocket and opened it, drinking it before balancing it on his knee carefully- sitting it on the ceiling would result in a nasty soda stain on the couch.

Laughing quietly at the TV, Israel couldn’t help but comment on the Simpson family’s antics. “Bart, tu bastardo, eres mi heroe.”

[/i] He muttered, busying himself by drinking some more soda.
[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Henry Ballo]

Henry happened to like early mornings. He’d gotten used to that with his mother, who had worked two jobs and so had woken her son up early in the morning to take him to the babysitter and had picked him up late. Sometimes, she’d even had to bring him along, and he’d sit in the office she’d work at, in the corner, play with things and listen. Later, when he’d been moved to America, he’d woken up early just to try to get out of the house before his father woke up. That habit had only stopped after his brother was born. But what it meant was that Henry was very used to getting up early, and it didn’t take much to wake him up. So when he heard the rummaging in the common room and then the TV switching on, he woke up and stared a little blearily at the wall, then rolled over to pick up his cell to check the time. A little after 7:30. Could’ve been worse. He climbed to his feet as quietly as he could, so as not to wake his roommate, then rubbed his hand over his head. He tugged on a loose t-shirt and some sweats, then trudged into the main area. The TV was on, but no one seemed to be there. And it was turned to the Simpson’s of all things. His eyes skimmed the room, and then he shrugged and walked over to the cupboard, leaning up to grab a granola bar from the top shelf, which he’d reserved as his just due to height.

And then…he thought he’d spotted something out of the corner of his eye. Something that shouldn’t have been there. Henry being who he was, he didn’t react immediately. Instead, he opened the granola bar and threw the wrapper in the trash, and then turned around and, once again, looked over the room. This time, however, he also looked up. And there he was—one of his roommates, whose name was…Israel? That sounded right. He hadn’t known that he could perch on the ceiling, though. It was pretty cool. His lips twitched up into an admiring smile, and then he tucked the bar into his pocket and then, with great care, pushed himself up off the ground, spun himself around, and sat cross-legged next to the smaller boy.

“Well, this is different,” he said. He seemed to be entertained in spite of himself. “I have never tried this before. Good morning, Israel. I did not know you spoke Spanish. How are you doing that?” He was talking about the cereal and the soda, judging by the nod in its direction. You’re in trouble now, Izzy. You got Henry all curious about things.

[Israel Valencia]

No noise escaped Israel, and when he heard a door open behind him he turned his head slightly to watch his bigger roommate leave his room and head for the kitchen. Once he was satisfied that the giant wasn’t going to freak out about his being on the ceiling, Israel turned back around and continued to chow down. He knew that guy’s name, he was pretty sure. Harry? Harold? Herman! No. That wasn’t right either. Now bugged by the conundrum, Israel scratched his head and frowned. It was Enrique, only English. He remembered that because when he moved in that was his first thought, aside from ‘Oh my Dios he’s tall enough to crush me flat’, which was not an uncommon thought because he was a bit on the short side of the scale.

In the middle of a thought, Israel didn’t notice Henry rise to the ceiling until he was there. “Madre de Dios!” He muttered, blinking as he looked Henry (That was his name!) over. He forgot his roommate could do that flying thing, which he was insanely jealous of because he could float along and not end up getting nosebleeds after landing, unlike Israel, who was confined to walls and ceilings. But he suspected that henry would have to right himself in a bit anyway, or else the blood would rush to his head.

Snorting, Israel finished the glob of cereal he was chewing before talking. “Don’t try it too much man, the blood will make your head swell.” That was an exaggeration, obviously, but nonetheless. “And yeah, yo hablo español. I’m from Mexico, you know.” Weren’t all his roommates from different countries, or something? Henry was from somewhere else, and that Jeff kid that always thought too loud, he was from some Asian country because whenever he was around and not playing drums he thought in his first language. Israel was decent enough with English that he thought in Spanglish. “Anyway.” He looked down at his drink and cereal box, blinking. “Oh, this? I dunno. If I’m touching something it’ll keep the same gravity I do, I guess. But, ah.” He pulled a single piece of Cap’n Crunch out of the bag and placed it on his thumbnail before flicking it. The piece of cereal, rather than coming back, travelled downward and landed on the couch cushion. “If it doesn’t touch me, it falls. S’how I got kicked out of my last dorm.”

In retrospect, it was a stupid thing- he was doing homework on the ceiling and had a glass of milk to drink- he sat it down on the ceiling on accident and the next thing he knew, his roommate was cussing up a storm because he was drenched in milk and, to add insult to injury, had been hit in the head with a plastic cup. The following fight would have been serious, had it not been conducted with Israel on the ceiling and his roommate on the floor. He wasn’t sure how long it was on YouTube before the Hammel tech staff took it down, but he did know that in that short amount of time there were over a thousand views.

But that was the past, time to get back to the present. “Did I wake you up, then? Sorry.”

[Henry Ballo]

Henry hadn’t really meant to startle his roommate. He hadn’t realized the Simpsons could be that engrossing (which should give you some indication of how highly Henry thought of that show—AKA, not at all). Or perhaps he’d just been focused on his food. Oh well. He had flinched a little when Israel spoke, then relaxed when he realized the other boy wasn’t going to yell at him, and his face settled into its habitual blank expression. “Mother of God?” he guessed, turning over the words in his head. It sounded fairly similar to French. But he stored it away for future use anyways and moved on to what he probably should have said in the first place.

“My apologies. I really did not mean to startle you. I just thought the position you were taking was…interesting.” And for once, it was even true. But it was kind of fun to be on the ceiling. This was a perk to his meta abilities he’d never thought of. Hm. He’d have to keep this in mind, definitely.

Thankfully, the next words revealed that he wasn’t that startled, and the man’s lips twisted up into a ghost of a smile.

“Some would say it is swelled already,” he said. “But I see your point.” And he lowered himself slightly down from the ceiling and spun in mid-hair so he was lying on his back and looking at Israel. This was a little more comfortable. He couldn’t maintain it forever, but he had to hand it to Thomas Lajole—his little warm up session had helped. He reminded himself to write him an email telling him so. Once he was fairly comfortable, he turned his attention back to the conversation. He’d known he was from Mexico. Why had it occurred to him to ask? “I remember now,” he admitted. “I am from Botswana. And Jeffery—the one with the loud thoughts—is from Korea, yeah? I wonder if they did that on purpose.” What a thought. He largely tried to ignore Jeff. Thoughts being broadcast into his head wasn’t the most pleasant experience, even when he couldn’t understand them. And he figured acknowledging it would only make it worse, so his solution was just to icily not say anything at all.

So that was his power then? “It is very interesting,” he admitted, turning his head to watch the piece of cereal fall. “I did not know that was a power. But I can see where that would be a problem. I hope no one was injured, though.” He had moved in only a little before Israel, but he’d been kicked out for a different reason entirely. The mere thought made him blush, and he cleared his throat and latched onto the new topic with every sign of gratefulness.

“No, you did not…well.” He wasn’t going to lie. “You kind of did? I do not mind. I like mornings. They are always…peaceful.” He shrugged and fell silent for a moment, then looked over at Israel. “I have two questions, I think. One—why do you like that?” As he couldn’t exactly point back at the TV, he made a vague gesture over his shoulder. He didn’t get how anyone could like the Simpsons. Seriously. “And secondly…” He tilted his head to the side. “Can you teach me Spanish?”

Not the smoothest approach ever, and he was pretty convinced he would be rejected, but a boy could hope.

[Israel Valencia]

Like most teenage boys, Israel had a habit of getting sucked into whatever it was he was doing, be it training, tinkering with his yoyo, or just watching TV. Surprising him was a lot easier than it really should be, but he didn’t mind being surprised as long as the one doing it wasn’t being malicious. “Nah, don’t sweat it.” He said around a mouth of cereal, gulping down some soda as Henry smiled. Ah, so he could smile. He’d have to remember that in the future. People who smiled were a lot less scary than those who didn’t.

As Henry flipped himself, Israel took another gulp of soda and let loose a satisfied burp. “Yikes. My bad.” He laughed, realizing that is was much more potent than he expected. To get the taste of it out of his mouth, he crammed another fistful of cereal into the black hole known as his digestive system. Nodding appreciatively at Henry’s home country, he assumed it was somewhere in Africa. He was never any good with geography. At the mention of Jeffery’s home country, Israel knitted his eyebrows together and scratched his head. “If he’s from Korea why doesn’t he go to that school in Japan, or something?” He figured Jeff was adopted anyway; with a name like that his parents had to be either nut jobs or just regular old Americans. Jeff was a name you gave a kid that you wanted the world to spite. Poor Jeff. Ah, well. At least his thoughts were mostly coded so he couldn’t understand them- unless they were pictures. Then he just yelled something at him in Spanish if he needed some good brain bleaching.

Being told his power was interesting was a bit of an ego boost for Israel, and he gave a goofy grin and pointed out Henry’s floating. “Your power’s pretty cool too, you gotta admit.” He could be The Green Lantern for Halloween or something- not the new one, but the old one. Wow, that sounded kind of racist of him, he’d keep that tidbit to himself. “There’s all sorts of weird powers. I mean, one research lady can change into a squid, I think.” He couldn’t think of whether it was an octopus or a squid. Either way, it sounded really useless. “But yeah.” The mention of injury made the conversation suddenly awkward, so when Israel did change the subject he was also glad for it.

So he did wake up his roommate. Even if it wasn’t a bad thing, he’d remember to be a bit quieter in the future. “I’m up ‘cuz my Mom calls on Sundays. She’ll probably call in an hour or so.” He looked at the clock on the wall to confirm- even if it was upside down, he could still read it. He was that good.

Henry pointed at the TV and Israel blinked. “Why do I like ‘The Simpsons’? What’s not to like? It’s hilarious.” To ask him what specific bit made it hilarious would make him have to think harder, all he knew was that it simply was. He watched it in Mexico, why not in the U.S.? It reminded him of home, in a way. Henry’s second question caught him off guard and Israel paused, blinking, before shrugging his shoulders. “Sure, man. You speak French, right? Same concept. Almost the same words.” Spain and France were right next to each other, after all.

[Henry Ballo]

Yes, Henry could smile. But it didn’t happen all that often. He was of the school whose train of thought wound along the lines of “too much of one thing lessens its value.” This, for Henry, included smiles, compliments, words in general, and friendships.

Actually, it was hard to say what Henry didn’t limit. This boy needs to get out more.

“Excuse you,” he said mildly, not really minding the burp at all. Formal, yes; stiff, yes; but he was still a member of the male gender, with all that entailed. Still, he eyed Israel a when the boy started shoving cereal into his mouth without even a spoon, not sure whether to be worried, amused, or just disgusted. Reflecting on his own eating habits, he decided to go with a cross between the first two. “Glad to hear that you do not mind,” he said instead. “But I really do not know why he is here. Perhaps one of his parents are American? Perhaps they moved. Immigration does still happen in this country I suppose. Or perhaps he transferred?” He shrugged. He had no idea how the whole system worked. His father had spoken about it and all the different schools, but as was typical of a teenage boy constantly fighting with his father, he hadn’t paid any attention whatsoever. “I do not know. But he is certainly…interesting. Do you know anything about our other roommate?” He didn’t know anything about him at all. Not that he’d exactly put himself out there, but still.

He almost caught himself grinning back at Israel when the boy pointed to him. But then he reminded himself that he couldn’t afford to warm up too quickly and instead just managed a thin little smile. “Well thank you,” he said. “This is about all I can do.” And down was still definitely an issue, but he didn’t think he’d share that fact with anyone yet. It was a little personal, and besides—he kind of enjoyed being thought of as cool. “And a squid?” he “sat” up a little, looking intrigued. “I did not know. I have not met that many people with that much of unusual powers. Although there was one little girl with superstrength.” He grimaced at the memory. That hadn’t been pleasant. What is her name, do you know?” It’d be interesting to meet her. Or…perhaps that was just him. Hm. “Still, this is definitely the most interesting campus I have ever been on.”

“Does she call every Sunday at the same time?” he asked. That sounded very nice, although he did wonder why so early. His brother tended to call any hour of the day any day of the week. Considering he was the only one who usually did call, he didn’t mind. “Where does she live?”

That answer, however, didn’t help. A frown made its way onto his features, and he shook his head. “Yes, but why do you find it hilarious? What is the point of it?” Was this sacrilege? Probably. But he just wanted to see why it was so popular. He certainly didn't get it. But he did, however, brighten when he said he’d teach him Spanish. Strict, yes, and stern, but it really didn’t take much to make him happy. That was a not-well-concealed secret of Henry. “Are they truly that similar, though? I had never thought so.”