CLAIRE

With all the weirdness that had taken over my life entirely, I was grateful for esports practice.

I was ready for Mage Sword and to take out all the tension and aggression that had been building in my body since last Thursday into our first in-person practice since the monorail accident.

Esports was a developing circuit— more had been established outside of New Kingsbury than within our city limits. I guess that for all the progress and innovation that our local government liked to tout, there were some things that still had yet to catch on, even with adequate time.

As a result, our coach was my astronomy teacher, a Mr. Kramer who was known for being an all-around cool dude and certified geek. When the circuit had first developed, around my freshman year, one of the older students had gone to him, asking if he wanted to help. Because the school gave a bonus to the teachers that supervised after-school activities, he eagerly accepted.

In the four years that had passed, the North Kingsbury Narwhals had developed into one of the superstars in the area with his wisdom and years of video game experience to help us— even if it was all technically amateur.

Since sixth period was his planning period, he'd take the time to go and get snacks and stuff for us when he'd gotten whatever he'd needed done for his actual classes.

So none of us were surprised when we walked into the room and Mr. Kramer wasn't there. The others were all there— Leta, Matty, Reid, Christine, and Henry, but none of them were doing anything.

Leta sat on a desk, listening to music as she texted someone.

Christine was working on her homework— as a studious and petite freshman, she always had this awkwardness about her that stemmed from being the youngest in the group.

Reid and Henry were talking about the latest trailer for the next Wizards of the Lost Kingdom, an extensive RPG game series that was set in the same world as Mage Sword.

Matty was reading through a strategy guide for an older vintage game— the kind that he liked to go through the challenge of making work in his rig so that he could upload Let's Plays for them in his free time.

I liked to watch his Let's Plays when I had the time— which admittedly, which was few and between. But teammates have to support each other.

I believed that then, and I believe it now.

"Hey!" I cried as I dropped my messenger bag on a random desk. "We should start hooking up our rigs!"

"But we don't know how to set up the part that shows the entire match on the TV," Reid pointed out, gesturing the ancient blocky TV that sat precariously atop a black cart with rusty wheels.

"I do," I said, kneeling down to work the jumble of cords— but one important one was missing. "Does anyone know where the AV chord is?"

Most just shook their heads, but Matty ventured a guess without looking up from his strategy guides.

"During my period, the media center had to get him a different TV and rack because the other one crapped out during the documentary about the Challenger," Matty offered.

"I'll go see if the media center has an AV chord, then." I was reluctant, but it made more sense than just sitting on our butts waiting for our coach to come back with the snacks.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

I headed into the media center in time to see none other than Malcolm McQueen working on finishing shelving books.

"I didn't know you did Media Studies as your sixth period," I said as I approached.

"Oh yeah, I wanted an easy second elective," Malcolm explained, shelving the last book. "Is there something I can take care of before I go to football practice?"

"Yeah," I said, figuring this could expedite the process. "Um, esports is meeting today, and we need an AV cord to plug the TV into Mr. Kramer's monitor, since the TVs were switched today we couldn't find the one we use, so maybe there's an extra here?"

"Oh, yeah, I think I know what you're talking about, let's go find it." A smile spread across Malcolm's face. He had a great smile. It wasn't one of those cocky movie star smiles, there was a shyness to it there, which made him all the more charming.

I would know, as I had seen essays on his smile scrawled on the bathroom walls.

He led me into the labyrinth of offices and the like behind the main desk of the media center. This was the series of rooms where they kept archived materials, craft supplies, technology, and a library of paperwork that was obviously not available to the student body at large.

Malcolm led me into one room, where there was a large bucket full of chords and the like.

"Sometimes, we have no idea where this goes to," Malcolm explained as he knelt down. "I think I remember which one came from Mr. Kramer's room— it has a green bread tie around it, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, because Mr. Kramer bought it with his own money," I explained. "Do you want me to help or—"

"No, no, I've got this," he said quickly. "Just relax or something, for a minute."

Well, I wasn't going to do that, because that just would have been awkward as hell.

Instead, I started looking around the room when I noticed one unusual affect.

It was a Wonder Woman poster hanging up on the wall— and it was in one of those faux-gold frames from a craft store, and it was hanging rather awkwardly off of the wall. I decided I'd at least hang it properly, and moved to adjust it. That was when instead of my hand brushing up against cinderblock walls, I came across nothing.

I glanced back at Malcolm, who was still entangled in cords, both mentally and physically. I then removed the poster to find an alcove had been carved out of the wall.

And inside the center of it, no bigger than a Tamagotchi, was a little silver device with little green lights and knobs on it. I picked it up and turned it over to see the logo of none other than Dark Titan.

One of Psyche's enemies.

Psyche, whose suit ended up in my father's possession and was kept a secret.

Because my mom and dad liked superheroes and my mom especially liked Wonder Woman.

Wonder Woman was the one who covered this alcove.

I then remembered what my mom had done before she had become an archivist at City Hall.

She'd worked at the same library that was attached o the high school she attended.

Mom was Psyche?

It felt like an impossible leap in logic as I pocketed the device and numbly replaced the poster before Malcolm could notice, but it was undeniable.

I'd opened Pandora's Box, after promising myself I wouldn't.

But this was something I couldn't ignore. While I watched Malcolm, my mind was racing, and came to one terrible thought:

What if this was what Menlo was looking for, in our house?

The implications that rippled out from that thought seemed to unravel the very world around me. Tenebrous had to be up to something, the tram really was only the beginning. . .

"I found it!" Malcolm declared triumphantly, pulling the correct AV cord finally from the bucket. "Sorry about that, I hope you're not too mad at us— hey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You look like you need to sit down," he said, looking around for a chair. "Um, I guess there's the floor—"

"It's okay, really." I shook my head. "I just— I was thinking about some things."

Malcolm's dark eyes took on a sympathetic glint. "Is it about the crash?"

"Sort of. It's related."

"Yeah, I can't even imagine what that must have been like." Malcolm shook his head. "The last time a supervillain was so bold was—"

"City Hall," I finished.

"Oh, that's right." He turned red. "I didn't mean to bring it up—"

"It's okay," I said, really meaning it this time. "It was a long time ago."

"Well, let me know if you need anything," Malcolm said. "Here's my number, if you want it."

He then grabbed a post-it note out of his pocket and scribbled it on it, before sticking it on my forehead.

I giggled, in spite of myself.

"Sorry," I said quickly. "I have such an ugly laugh."

"No one laughs ugly," Malcolm said, smiling again. "Especially you."

I blinked, unsure of how to respond to that. "Well, I should probably get back to practice— thanks anyway."

"You're welcome."

I waved at him as I walked away— not walked, floated. Because I felt like I was flying after that interaction. Suddenly, I didn't care about anything else. Just that I was okay, and someone else liked me that way. I was a girl, he was a boy, and it could have happened anywhere, anytime at all. It was blissfully normal.