But it was already too late. Before Petecould take another step, a man who had been laying on the groundalongside the car suddenly sprang to his feet....He held a gun."NO!" I screamed, and hopped out of the car. If I had been thinking moreclearly, I would have used my heat vision to make the gun so hot hewould have been forced to drop it. But I wasn't thinking clearly. All Icould focus on was saving the boy I love.The punk with the gun smiled when he saw me. His girlfriend wasn't,well, as endowed. He washed his face with cold water, staring at himself in the mirror as he did so, thinking once again that he did not deserve to be so lucky. He toweled his face roughly, and looked again at his reflection. The mirror showed him the truth of his age, the receding hair, grey at the temples; the slight pouchiness under his eyes; the failing elasticity of his skin; and the belly. Not a bloated gut, but definitely the paunch of later middle age. He squeezed a roll of fat on his hips between finger. More

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