Superpower #inthistown #roblox #robloxanimation #robloxstory

In this world, your superpower is whatever your name means. So naming a baby is the most important thing a parent will ever do. Kids' name sky can fly. Rocky has skin made of stone. Everywhere rose walks, flowers pop up out of the sidewalk. One dad named his son Lucky, and that kid has never lost a coin flip in his life. The baby name section at the bookstore has a security guard, and some names are completely illegal. Dune, earthquake, tornado. Because a baby with a name like that could flatten a whole city before it learns to walk. And then there's me, Kevin. My parents named me after my great grandpa. Nobody knows what Kevin means. It's not even in the big book of names at City Hall. So I go to the superhero academy with everyone else. And I'm the only kid who's never done anything. Blaze sits behind me in class. His hands shoot fire. He calls me no power, Kevin. So does everyone else. But some weird things do happen around me. Baby stop crying when I walk past. Barking dogs lie down. And every time Blaze tries to set my backpack on fire, his flames shrink down to a tiny little candle. He says he's just having an off day. He's had a lot of off days. Then there's the Pemberton House, the biggest mansion in town, up on the hill. Everyone knows the Pemberton's have a son my age. Nobody's ever seen him. They say he's never been allowed outside. And they say that's because, 12 years ago, they paid somebody a lot of money to give him an illegal name. On his 12th birthday, we found out which one. The sky over the hill turned green. The wind started howling. And the roof of the Pemberton mansion ripped right off. Spinning in the middle of it was a boy. And all around him, a tornado. It came down the hill, ripping up trees, tossing cars like toys. Sky tried to fly into it and got spit out. Rocky got thrown into the lake. Blaze shot fire at it, and the fire just made it spin faster. The whole academy ran into the storm shelter. I sat in the corner, shaking. Then my grandma sat down next to me. She pulled an old book out of her purse. "Your great grandpa's," she said. He wanted you to have it. On the first page, in shaky handwriting was his name. Kevin and under it, one word, gentle. I thought about the babies, the dogs, blazes tiny flames. And I stood up. Kevin, sit down. Blaze yelled, but I was already opening the shelter door. The wind hit me like a truck. And then it softened. Every step I took, the storm got calmer around me. The cars stopped spinning. The trees stopped shaking. I walked right through the wall of the tornado and into the middle. And there was the Pemberton kid floating, hugging his knees, shaking. "I can't stop it," he said. "I've never been able to stop it." "What's your name?" "Tornado." "I'm Kevin," I said. And I put my hand on his shoulder. The wind slowed. The roar turned into a breeze. And tornado and I floated down onto the grass in the middle of a totally quiet town. The shelter door opened. Everybody came out. Blaze, sky, rocky, still dripping from the lake. Nobody said a word. The next week, my great grandpa's name finally got added to the big book at City Hall. And for the first time ever, a name had a waiting list. 47 babies, all named Kevin.