Chapter 2

* * * *

Troy was indeed back before he or anyone knew it. He was back without his cape, his skol, or his powers. When he’d entered the meeting room, he’d expected to see five other young guys all awaiting their capes, but there’d been six. Troy had felt sorry for the idiot who’d messed up. Only it turned out he was the idiot.

Walking back home, he was pissed, confused, and dejected. He felt he’d let his family and his community down, and he didn’t know why. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Sure, the members of the CSA, or at least the couple Troy had seen, had been complimentary, kind, even generous in their praise of his activities—the lifeguarding at the Y pool in the summer and ski patrol in the winter. Troy was embarrassed they’d known so much about him. But being told he had to wait another three years so he could fulfill a higher calling was just BS. There was no higher calling than a sotan being granted his cape and his powers.

“Wonder if they’re planning on making you a tuohygan?” Troy’s father speculated over supper later that evening.

The meal was a somber, quiet affair. The party had been cancelled, the neighbors asking questions neither Troy nor his folks could answer.

“A what?” Troy asked, stirring rather than eating his plate of hotdish.

“Tuohygans. They’re pretty rare,” his dad told him. “Only one born every generation.”

Troy kinda liked the idea he was potentially so unique. It took a little, repeat, a little, of the shame out of the rejection.

“Although I heard the last tuohygan decided not to accept his position,” his mother put in.

“Why?” Troy asked midway through chewing his food. The recent revelation had restored some of his appetite.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Troy’s mother shook her head in disapproval. “And no one knows why he didn’t accept. Or at least no one is saying.”

“The CSA sure are a secretive bunch.” Troy’s father picked up the bottle of Coke. “More pop?”

Troy nodded and slid his glass towards his father.

“We’d kinda hoped it’d be you they’d choose this generation,” Troy’s father said, filling his son’s glass. “Are you sure the CSA didn’t say anything else to you?”

Troy shook his head no. “Why would they choose me for this tuohygan gig anyway?” All he’d ever wanted was to take up his sotan destiny.

“Because you’re special.” His mother touched the back of Troy’s hand. “Not that Lizzie isn’t,” she added quickly, never one to show favoritism. “But…” she sighed. “I know every mother is proud of their children, especially sotans but you, you’ve always been extra…” She waved a hand.

“Extra proud-worthy?” Troy smirked.

Lizzie hadn’t been chosen to be a sotan, and, yeah, Troy had kinda lorded that over her. Although she’d be sure to give him shit later about not getting his cape and everything. As soon as she’d heard the party had been cancelled, she’d left to practice with her friends. Lizzie was in a singing group, and, Troy had to admit, they didn’t suck.

“What’s a tuohygan anyway?” Troy asked once he’d cleared his plate.

“As far as we know, they have a full range of powers, not just the two that sotans get,” Troy’s dad said.

This intrigued Troy. Who knew what all else he’d get as a tuohygan? It’d sure make him a chick magnet. Yeah, he’d known all sotans had their skol chosen for them. Did tuohygans have a skol as well?

“I heard they get a gold trim on their capes,” Troy’s mother added. “And they get to prefix their name with Super.”

Troy smiled. SuperTroy had a definite ring to it. He also liked the idea of a cape with gold trim. Even more chick magnetic…magnet-like? But, oh, man, having to wait until his twenty-first birthday.

That sucked!

* * * *

Two years and two months later

“No! No fucking way!” Troy crashed through the outer doors of the CSA building and descended the stone steps three at a time. He was not going to accept a man as his skol, or omer or whatever the member of the CSA had called his would-be mate. He wasn’t queer. Troy was a member of his jock frat in college, he played both football and baseball, he’d lettered in both sports in high school, and…he was not gay! Period, end of discussion.

Troy looked up and saw a couple of figures coming in to land on the roof of the CSA building, their brightly colored capes flapping behind them. “Fuckers!” he yelled up at them.

That should have been him. Should have been him two years earlier, the last time he’d visited the CSA building.