My name is Julian Bakersfield and I’m 17 years old. I live in the apartment complex off of Triumph Drive and go to school at Brooksten High, I’m a junior. I  enjoy reading, writing, film analysis, and 80’s pop songs that get stuck in your head. I know the way I’m describing myself makes me seem like every other boring nerdy protagonist, but I swear I’m not. A boring protagonist, that is. I’d probably be considered a nerd by most peoples’ standards. But that’s not what this story’s about, not really. I’m writing this to tell you how I became a superhero; Orange Julius, as I’m often called by the media, due to the orange hoodie and mask I wear on missions as well as my name.

It didn’t start with a radioactive spider bite, or my parents being murdered, thank you very much. No, it started with a car accident. I had gone out with my best friend, Max, to see Back to the Future, which they were playing at the movie theater. We were crossing one of the intersections on the way back to my apartment when a large truck hit me. Luckily, I was able to shove Max out of the way of the oncoming truck, but I didn’t get out of the way in time. I passed out almost immediately after the truck hit me.

I was rushed to the hospital, where I had emergency surgery and spent 4 days after that in a coma. I woke up and learned Max had stayed in my room, waiting until I woke up. I also learned I had superpowers now. I figured that out after Max told me about a rocket blaster he’d built in robotics class and my hand turned into a matching blaster. After freaking out for a bit, Max told me it was possible that I’d gotten superpowers when my heart stopped during surgery and the doctors had used an experimental new drug, called Amberpristine, that could have caused these unusual side effects. I told Max that wasn’t a real thing that happened, but he asked me if I had a better explanation. I didn’t. He had a point.

With my newfound powers, I set out to make the world a better place. I had superpowers, it only made sense to become a superhero. For a few weeks after I came home from the hospital I just did small things, like rescuing cats and stopping small robberies. One day, I heard some kids at school talking about a party that night. They were going to Mark’s (one of the more popular kids at school) house along with most of the rest of the junior class. I didn’t have plans after school, so I figured I might as well go.

When I got there, the first thing I noticed was how packed and loud it was. I grabbed a can of Sprite and went outside to chill out on the porch. These backyard was cool and mostly empty, safe for a few groups of teenagers giggling and joking together on the porch. Down in the yard, a group of boys were seemingly harassing a smaller boy with round glasses and curly red hair. I walked down the porch steps and wandered towards the group,

“Come on guys, it’s not funny,” said the redheaded boy - I think his name is Andrew, he’s in my English class - “Seriously, my mom will kill me if I don’t go into hyperglycemic shock first.”

“Calm down, will you? You don’t need it right now.” one of the harassers says, holding a small black backpack over his head.

I stand back, deciding I’ll only get involved if this gets out of hand.

“No, but I’d really prefer to have it.” he says, jumping up, trying to grab what I can only assume is insulin.

“God, can you chill out?” another guy says.

“Why are you doing this?” Andrew cries, still trying to get the insulin away from the guys.

“Hey, Jack, do you wanna throw this into a tree or something?” one of the guys says to another.

Andrew’s eyes widen and he knees the guy holding the bag in the crotch, snatching the bag when he doubles over. He tries to run away, but is held back by a fist tangled in his shirt.

“Oh man, he really kicked Jake in the balls and thought he could get away. How stupid.” one of the boys sneers, winding a fist back. Andrew winces and braces for impact.

“Hey. Leave him alone.” I say, walking towards them.

“Why are you involving yourself, fairy boy?” the boy says.

“Cause you really shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Oh yeah, what are you gonna do?”

I raise my hand in front of my face and turn it into a hammer. I don’t know why I chose a hammer, but it seemed to work. The boys dropped Andrew and scurried away, shouting.

I turn my hand back to normal and kneel in front of Andrew. I pick up Andrew’s insulin bag, which the bullies had dropped in their haste to get out, and hand it to Andrew.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“I think. Thank you,” Andrew says rubbing  his skinned elbow. “I have really bad night vision, I don’t know what you did, but they’re gone, so.”

“Oh, uh, I’m double-jointed. I bent my arm backwards.” I lie, “Uh, you wanna come sit with me?”

“Yeah!”

My name is Julian Bakersfield and I’m 17 years old. The media calls me Orange Julius because of both my orange clothes and names. My sidekick, the Amazing Andrew, doesn’t have powers but he’s good with both moral support and building tools. I’m a normal teenage boy, I’m just a superhero too.