CLAIRE

Sun streamed through my window, but it didn't really feel like a Saturday morning, in a way. Sure, I wasn't going to school or to a tournament, and for once I got a decent amount of sleep. But i still felt exhausted from what had happened while I was home alone the night before.

No one asked, and no one suspected that I'd tried to fight a supervillain while no one was home.

Definitely not one of my brightest ideas.

I let out a heavy sigh—- I knew I should get up, get some breakfast, and figure out what I was going to do. Besides my esports practice from 2:30 to 4:00. That left a big chunk of my day, with so much to possibly do.

But. I couldn't let go of the image of the superhero suit in Dad's comic collection. It was definitely a woman's suit, based off of the color.

It wasn't the kind of thing I saw my mom going for, though— super or not. Not that I didn't still have my doubts about that.

So how and why did Dad have it?

I propped myself up on my elbows. The only way to find out was to research whoever the mysterious super was. Maybe that would give me a clue?

But how would I even get started?

Then I remembered that I knew somebody who could help with anything superhero-related.

I rolled awkwardly onto the floor and then scrambled to my feet to unplug my phone. I quickly swiped into my contacts and texted Stephanie:

ME: hey, need ur help w/ something superhero. can u come over before 2:30?

I didn't have to wait long for a response.

Stephanie: I'll be there by ten

I looked at the clock on my phone— it was already 8:13.

ME: great, see u then

I was about to close my phone and go down for breakfast when I noticed a notification of a text from an unknown number. Curious, I clicked.

???: be careful, Claire. I won't always be around to save you. -R

I wanted to throw my phone across the room. I instead elected to send back a snarky response :

ME: I never asked you to save me

"Score one for me," I muttered.

"So what do you need my help with, again?" Stephanie made herself at home, flopping onto my bed as I took the computer chair.

"I need you to promise me something first." This was the closest I would get to telling anyone about anything that I'd been going through since the attack on the monorail.

"What is it?" Stephanie folded her arms over her chest.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"Promise you won't tell anyone what I'm telling you, or what we were doing," I said.

"I mean, yeah, unless you're about to do something that could give me a criminal record, because those things are permanent," Stephanie mumbled.

"Great." I closed the attic trapdoor and the door-door behind us and locked the real door for good measure. "Last night— it's not important what led up to it— I found a real Super's suit in my dad's comic book room downstairs."

"Really?" Stephanie gasped. "How would he have gotten one of those?"

"I don't know, and I want to find out."

"Well, just ask your dad, then," Stephanie suggested.

I shook my head. "Not an option. No one goes into his comic book room."

Plus, I really didn't want to have to tell anyone about the whole Menlo incident.

"Okay, so I'm not as good at identifying the superheroes from New Kingsbury," Stephanie admitted. "But I actually know this amazing archive for all of the real superheroes that have appeared since 1979. It's this database— it's really cool."

"Can you pull it up?"

"Let's switch," Stephanie declared.

I stood up and let her take the computer chair. She opened up the new window and quickly entered in the address of the website.

We were greeted with a clean site that looked modern and well-organized. It wasn't at all the amateur site that I had been expecting.

"It was made by this famous reporter, starting when she was in high school, I think," Stephanie said, pointing the name of the site's director.

"Anya Weiss," I murmured. I felt as if I'd seen a ghost.

"She's got a lot of different photos and stuff, with any other or starting codenames, and all recorded sightings," Stephanie said. "You can also submit anonymous tips here, and they'll review it, until they can get it corroborated."

"So can we just search for costume colors, or. . . "

"Yeah." Stephanie pulled up a side—bar for searching. "What major colors were in it?"

"Pink and white" I recalled.

She started scrolling through the search results— it was on the bottom of the first page that I told Stephanie to stop.

"There, I think that one's it," I said.

"Psyche," Stephanie read aloud as she clicked to reveal the full profile. "She was active from the late nineties to 2001. Was a part of the League of Heroes before that all went down in flames— and it looks like she had a crime-fighting partner."

"What were her powers?" For a terrible moment I wondered if maybe this was my mom. While it was hard to tell with the mask and the suit, if we had the same powers, that made it incredibly likely according to the article I'd found. . .

"Energy manipulation."

That didn't sound like what I'd done. I felt myself exhale— it was detached, I was detached in that moment.

"But yeah, it said that she just kind of disappeared at some point in 2001," Stephanie said. "Maybe she sold the suit after her retirement, and that's how your dad has it? It would be like, the most major collectible ever!"

"That's true." Something felt off about that explanation, but I chalked it up to everything feeling off since Thursday night. "Thanks for helping me out."

"It's no problem," Stephanie assured me, her green eyes bright. "I never imagined I'd get to live in the birthplace of superheroes. I lived in a little town in the Rockies before Dad got the job with Atomic Energy."

"I can't imagine growing up somewhere without heroes," I muttered.

"Yeah, I didn't really hear about them until I was like, ten years old," Stephanie said as she bounced back to my bed and fell onto her back. "That was when they really started showing up in other places around the country. Before then, they were just in comic books and movies and that was it."

I lay on the bed next to her, and reached my hands up to feel the slanted ceiling. "I used to be the same way, actually. Mom loved superheroes, too— although she was more of a DC girl."

"Is that why there's a Wonder Woman on your desk?" Stephanie asked. "Because I never pegged you as the type to secretly like anything, and Leta always jumps on me for mentioning the hero stuff because of you. . . "

"I used to like them when I was a kid," I admitted. "Heck, I had a Wonder Woman nursery as a baby. But after my mom died in the fire— I just couldn't stand them anymore, you know? They were all suddenly so real, and in such a terrible way."

"They killed your mom," Stephanie said softly.

I'd never said the words out loud— I don't think anyone really had. But it was the truth, raw and audible for the first time in the eight years since my mother passed.

"I'm sorry, by the way, I don't mean to keep bringing it up." Stephanie looked remorseful.

"You're you, and you like what you like— and I know it's different for you," I said. "I just can't separate it all out like you can. But that doesn't mean you need to change."

"Thanks, Claire." Stephanie looked back up at the ceiling. "I needed to hear that."

"I don't hang around people I don't like," I assured her. "And I definitely don't invite them over to my house."

At that, she threw a pillow at me and I knew everything would be okay, somehow.