Chapter Text
Trip Zap at thirteen feet four, always had to duck slightly under the entry arch of the City School, he was self-conscious of breaking parts off again without realising. His blonde, spiky hair, wild and untamed, much like the man himself, brushed the concrete lintel, causing small puffs of dust. Beside him, was his wife Topaz, a sleek 13 foot tall, glided through the space with out hesitation, her purple eyes taking in the entire playground in one sweeping scan, the silver crest on her headband catching the sun.
But today wasn’t about them, this day belonged to Wyatt.
At ten years old, Wyatt was, technically, the tallest student in the fourth grade. At exactly six feet, he was already wearing customized, durable trousers and a blazer that required special fitting so that it had the strength to support him. But even at six feet, he looked like a doll when compared to his parents. His parents didn't need to look down to see him; they could just see him in their peripheral vision, like a well-dressed sapling at the foot of an oak grove.
Wyatt reached up to hold both of their massive hands as they walked along the concrete path. His parents' hands were a study in contrast despite doing the same work: Trip’s was rough but firm, his hands in comparison several times the size of his son’s that Wyatt could barely get his hand around two fingers. Topaz’s hand was smooth, warm, and deceptively strong—a hand that could gently direct a six-foot child or, if required, stop a moving bus.
"Okay, pal," Trip said, his voice a low rumble that Wyatt felt more than heard. "First day of school. Your special-order desk is on the sixth floor, just in case you, you know, have a growth spurt."
"Dad, I haven't grown since June," Wyatt said, adjusting his backpack, which for a child his age was more like a camping rucksack, it was large enough to for a normal adult human.
"Six feet and half-an-inch, dear," Topaz corrected with a knowing smile. She nudged Wyatt gently with the edge of her foot. All three would usually be barefoot, a family tradition of staying grounded. The concrete was warm from the morning sun and constant contact with the ground made it easier to disperse the excess energy flows they developed but, on this occasion, Wyatt was in a pair of leather shoes, suitable for school as he still fit in normal clothes, even if most were from the adult section.
They reached the front steps, where the school principal was waiting. She was a pleasant woman, 5’4”, and she looked like a small bird perched on the stairs.
Topaz crouched, her purple leggings stretching, bringing her face close to the principal's level. "We’ve left the customized chairs in the atrium," she said, her voice like chimes.
Trip didn't crouch; it was too difficult. He simply leaned forward, resting his massive hands on his knees. "Yeah, and I left a pallet of milk in the cafeteria. The boy drinks a gallon before recess."
"We are well-prepared for Wyatt, I assure you," the principal said, craning her neck at a 90-degree angle.
"Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!" Wyatt said. He released their hands, took two steps that would have been four for any other student, and waved.
Trip and Topaz stood up, their heads now even with the first-floor windows, casting long, muscular shadows over the entire entrance. As Wyatt disappeared into the building, Topaz let out a long sigh that fluttered the school flag.
"They grow up so fast, don't they?" Trip said sarcastically, his red eyes soft.
"Slowly, Trip. Very, very slowly," Topaz corrected, watching her husband's blonde spikes disappear under the arch as they turned to leave. "He’s only six feet. He’s basically still a baby. I just hope we’ve done the right thing."