Sketch Chapter 1

*Authors note:* Sketch is about superheroes! There will be mild violence! Enjoy! :)

Sketch

Chapter 1:

Every superpower has a catch. One problem: I can’t catch. Here I am, Katie Rien, Sketch, superheroine to Chicago, handcuffed with a zip tie, and without a pencil. I’m always losing pencils. And pens, crayons, markers, and virtually anything you can draw with. Today I found a pen, drew a belt with a pouch, and stashed supplies inside. Just my luck the pen ran out of ink! Drew, my crime-fighting partner, sits across the room, blindfolded. His real name is Andrew Gillam, AKA the Seeker. Hence the blindfold. He can tell where something is, which is handy for when something is stolen, but honestly, he spends most of the time looking for pens.

I met him after drawing myself getting a new friend in second grade. Sure enough, a new student from St. Louis showed up within a week. I didn’t create him or anything; just put an idea in his head, I guess. He lives on his own, in a little shed in Jackson Park that nobody else can find. Every time I visit, I draw a bridge or whatever to get across the ditch. It’s not very deep, but I’d rather not jump nine feet. Good thing is, nobody else can or even wants to get across. Drew really lives in the basement, though. It’s like our secret hideout. Complete with computers, Wi-Fi, and a “magically” refilling pantry, I practically live there myself.

After Drew showed up in class that first day, I just thought it was coincidence. back when I was six, I made a crayon drawing of getting a puppy.  When I was ten, I drew a comic of our teacher giving everyone easy homework for a week. The list goes on, and when I finally realized I had powers, you can imagine who I told.

Seeker and I don’t use our powers for money. Unfortunately, Colossus does. He’s the only other person I know with powers. His are classic: super-strength. Also, unfortunate, he isn’t dumb. Colossus is smart enough to keep Drew and I apart. Well, sort of apart. We’re in the same room.

This is all my fault. If only I’d packed an extra pen! But I didn’t. Or if I’d caught that Sharpie Seeker threw at me! But I couldn’t. I’m awful at catching. So instead we’re here, wrestling with zip ties in a muscle-man’s study.

Colossus enters the room. A heavy-looking bag he carries jingles as he walks. He squats near me.

“Hey, girl. Draw me a car,” he tosses me a pack of colored pencils and paper. They’d have been useful earlier. He breaks my restraint with a single tug. “No funny business.” I open the package. Better to stall, however.

“A sports car? Or just a getaway car?”

“A truck. Shiny, new, runs perfectly smooth. If it breaks down, I’ll know whose fault it is.” He points to his hand, then Drew. Never mind, then. That’s a threat enough- I start drawing.

“Hurry up already.” I stop drawing and glance up at him.

“Cars are hard.”

“I don’t care. Be done soon, or you’d better hope your boyfriend’s skull is hard.” I ignore the boyfriend part. I don’t really care; but Seeker does.

“I’m not her boyfriend.” He needs to stop talking- “We’re just partners.” Stop, Drew! “So why don’t you just-” I hurriedly finish the truck.

“Can we go now?” I ask quickly, holding the page up.

“With money on his hands?” Andrew I-Don’t-Know-Your-Middle-Name Gillam...!

“Shut up.” For once I agree with Colossus, as his calloused hands lift me. “I’m coming back for you boy. If you do anything, I’ve got your girlfriend.”

I should’ve made the floor cushioned. I’m short enough not to be seen from the window, on the floor. Unfortunately for him, Drew is seen from the window, so he’s forced to ride in the trunk. But the music Colossus listens to is so bad, I envy him.

There are two reasons I’m thankful for the smooth drive. The obvious is that Drew would get punched otherwise.

But also, my hands are untied. And I still have the art supplies. Ten minutes later, Colossus is in prison, and the money is returned.

I drew a phone, gave the police a head up on our location, and they showed up in less than three minutes. It was the usual- The Chief thanking us, but asking us to “please be careful, you’re only kids after all,” some “maybe leave this sort of thing to the adults,” and “enjoy your childhood in peace.”

Then of course they asked who we are, who our parents are, and where we live. Obviously, we don’t want them to know that stuff, so we just bow our heads in mock shame, mumble stuff like ‘we’ll be careful!’ And leave as fast as we can.

“If you want,” Drew offers as we walk, “I can walk you home.”

“No, I can walk by myself.” We were almost at that curb between my house and Jackson Park.

“Are you sure?”

“Um, yes. Why are you so concerned?”

“I-I’m not.” He shifts uncomfortably. “It’s just . . . what if. . .What if something happens? Like, if somebody knew who we are, and tried to, like . . . threaten us.”

“I can take care of myself, you worrywart,” I elbow him. He frowns, and looks at me.

“I-I know that. And don’t call me a worrywart. But what if-”

“Enough with the what-ifs! Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I can’t protect myself.”

“That is not what I’m saying! I-” Drew stiffens, his eyes widening. “Behind us.” He whispers, “on the count of three. One, two,”

“Three.” Heavy hands clasp our shoulders. “You’re coming with me."