TODAY I, STAINLEZZ Steel, am officially bugged out. Today’s my first day at Union Middle School, and the truth is, I’m a little scared.

Don’t laugh. My school is way worse than your school. Believe that.

In real life, I am mild-mannered, easy-to-get-along-with Kenny Wright.

And as you may have figured out by now, Stainlezz Steel only exists in my crazy mixed-up imagination.

Superheroes aren’t real. I know that. But you show me a kid who says he never wished he could fly like Superman, or run like the Flash, or mess around inside Iron Man’s supersuit…and I’ll show you a kid who’s lying through his grill.

That’s why I made up Stainlezz Steel. Inside my head, I mean. Because I have about as much chance of being a superhero as a turtle has of winning a hundred-yard dash. And the only battles I ever win are on the chessboard.

Not like Steel.

It doesn’t help that my stubborn-as-a-donkey Grandma Hope insists on walking me to school, either. (I call her G-ma for short. She calls me Kenneth, for long, but you can just call me Kenny.)

I explained to G-ma that I’m in sixth grade now. It’s straight-up embarrassing to show up with your granny on the first day. Everyone thinks I’m kind of a geek to begin with. Well… maybe not a geek-geek, but I’m definitely not “that dude.” You know that dude; the ladies love him, and the fellas want to be him. But try explaining that to G-ma. She may not be hard of hearing, but she can definitely be hard of listening, if you know what I mean. And she has an opinion about EVERYTHING.

And don’t get me wrong. I’ve got mad respect for G-ma. She takes good care of me, and I try to do the same for her. She also makes the best peach upside-down cake you ever tasted.

It’s just that I’m crazy nervous about starting middle school. Like, throw-up-on-my-shoes nervous. Kids like me can get stomped down pretty quick at a place like Union Middle.

But G-ma doesn’t notice. On the real, for a little old lady, she has a lot of heart. She’s fearless. Sometimes I think she may be a champion MMA prizefighter at night. Hey, it’s possible. She just keeps walking on down Martin Luther King Avenue, talking to me about grades and high expectations, while I try to hold on to my breakfast and figure out how I’m going to make it through the first day.

Times like these, I could use a little less Kenny and a lot more Steel.