Free Strength by Angela B. Macala-Guajardo Page A

of their movie-watching trance and voiced their wonder at the strange jolt.
    The sports car stayed wedged under the first rear set of double wheels, its nose getting eaten away, and the rest of the car jostled up and down as if it were going over a series of speed bumps. Roxie couldn’t believe what she was witnessing. This kind of crash only happened in movies; not right below her.
    The bus driver stopped in the middle of the highway once he heard several people exclaim “Oh my god!” People on the right side of the bus crowded behind those on the left.
    “Aerigo!” Roxie reached to shake Aerigo’s shoulder and got zapped the moment her hand was within an inch of his skin. “Ow!” She recoiled and shook her hand. “What the heck was that?” she wondered aloud. The shock more surprised her than hurt.
    Roxie shrugged it off as static and reached for his shoulder again, only to get shocked a second time right before making contact with his skin. Aerigo sat upright and his eyes snapped open. They glowed like they had in the bathroom: a swirl of yellow and red, the two colors pushing for dominance over his hidden pupil. The glow faded into Aerigo’s blue eyes and he blinked.
    “What did I say about windows?”
    Okay… Looks like this mystery is going to have to wait. She pointed out the window.
    Aerigo followed her finger and his whole body went rigid. “Move!” He hoisted himself up with help from the aisle chairs and pardoned himself past the first couple of people stuffed in the aisle. He kept on having to ask one person at a time to make room. Roxie followed, feeling an obligation to stay close. She could hear patience disappearing from Aerigo’s excuse me’s. By the fifth chair he paused and took a deep breath. “ Move! ”
    Roxie flinched at the power of his voice and peered past one of his strong arms. Everyone turn their way and stuffed themselves among the seats. Children pointed at his face and parents shielded children in their arms.
    “Look at his eyes, Mommy!” a little girl yelled.
    “Shh! Put your hand down!”
    Aerigo rushed down the emptied aisle and the bus driver opened the door for him, and Roxie avoided making eye contact with anyone as she followed.
    Traffic piled up behind the bus. The far left lane lurched like a line of inchworms as people tried to force and honk their way around, and many a passerby were on their cell phones, hopefully talking to 9-1-1. Several cars pulled up near the bus, forming a diagonal, and turned on their hazard lights before getting out of their vehicles.
    Roxie stood near Aerigo, behind the left side of the bus. The Mustang’s hood had been ground off all the way to the windshield, but all the tinted windows were intact. He looked down the length of the bus, then back at the car. He positioned himself behind the bus and glanced at its height, which was twice his. A dozen witnesses and bus passengers crowded near Roxie, who was at a loss for what to do.
    Aerigo bent his knees and gripped the underside of the bus, then took a deep breath and straightened his legs with a quick exhale. The rear of the bus lifted off the ground level with his hips. He dropped to one knee and reversed his grip one hand at a time, then heaved to his feet, raising the bus level with his shoulders, and the sports car’s nose remained braided between both sets of wheels. A few scraps of metal clanged onto the pavement. Aerigo straightened his arms, hoisting the bus a little higher, and searched its underside. He began moving his hands as if he were under a row of monkey bars, pausing at every progression to make sure he kept the bus level.
    More people began filing off the bus, clutching at heads and shoulders, and other joints. Roxie wondered if it would have been prudent to ask people to get off the bus before lifting it, even though Aerigo was trying to save valuable time. Saving time or not, everyone who’d gotten off the bus forgot about their pain and disgruntlement as they