I'm sitting in the hospital room, fiddling with the edge of the blanket, when Lily and Marcus barge in, almost tripping over each other. Kate's right behind them, her newly shaved head catching the light. I have no idea why she's suddenly missing nearly as much hair as I am, but if she was trying to look less butch she's certainly doing a poor job at it. If I had to guess, it's a show of solidarity for me - a sweet gesture, but it kind of makes me feel like a magnet for pity. Not super loving with it.

"Hey, Sam!" Lily exclaims, her voice a bit too loud for the small room. She's carrying a bag that looks like it's about to burst.

Marcus, looming tall even in the cramped space, adjusts his thick glasses and gives me a shy smile. "Good to see you up, Sam."

Kate, a bit too enthusiastic as usual, rushes over to my side. "We missed you so much!"

I can't help but smile, despite the weird cocktail of happiness and sadness swirling inside me. "Missed you guys too. But, uh, Kate, your head…"

She rubs her hand over her scalp, grinning. "Yeah, thought I'd match your style. Cool, right?"

"It's… something," I say, choosing my words carefully.

Marcus and Lily burst into laughter, and even I can't help but join in. The tension in the room eases a bit, replaced by the familiar warmth of friendship. Oh, friendship.

Lily plops down in the chair next to my bed and starts pulling things out of her bag. "We brought you some stuff. Comics, snacks… oh, and this weird gadget Marcus made."

Marcus holds up a small device with blinking lights. "It's a mini drone. Thought it might be fun to play with in here."

I raise an eyebrow. "You made this?"

He nods, looking proud. "Yeah, been working on it for a while. It's got a camera and everything."

I'm genuinely impressed. "That's really cool, Marcus. Thanks. I didn't know you were an engineer now."

"I've been working on it," he replies, trying to downplay it.

Kate, who's been fidgeting since she sat down, suddenly blurts out, "Did you guys hear about the new sushi place that opened near school? They have this crazy roll called the 'Dragon's Breath'. We should totally go when you're out of here."

Lily's eyes light up. "Oh, I saw that! They have uh… that… what's it called, the culti… canti… the really hot species of pepper? And it's supposed to be impossible to eat."

"I think the word you're looking for is 'cultivar'?" I laugh, the conversation steering away from me and my bald head. "Sounds like a challenge. Count me in."

"Actually, can you even eat spicy things right now?" Marcus asks, fiddling with some small USB-C doohickey that looks like that thing Jordan uses to fuck with RFID chips. "You know, with the… What is it?"

"I have radiation poisoning, Marcus. And you're right, I really shouldn't eat anything spicy," I answer, rubbing my smooth chin thoughtfully. "On the other hand, the doctors told me that being injured makes my regeneration speed up so maybe I could deploy some tactical habanero juice in my belly…"

"That sounds like a bad idea, sport," Marcus shoots me down.

"Is your throw-up radioactive?" Kate asks, at basically the same time.

The dissonance makes me cough laughing.

We spend the next hour just talking, about everything and nothing. School gossip, the latest superhero news from Marcus, and even some debate about the best pizza toppings. It's nice, feeling like a normal teenager again, even if it's just as long as they remain in this room, within these four off-white walls. But as they talk and laugh, I can't help but feel a bit disconnected, like I'm watching everything from the other side of a glass wall. They're worried about me, I can tell, but they're trying so hard to keep things light and normal.

It doesn't take long before I begin stewing in my own funk again. Even when I don't want to be. It just happens.

Kate, sensing the shift in mood, quickly jumps in with another story. "So, I decided to bake a cake, right? I found this recipe online that looked amazing. It was called 'Chocolate Volcano Cake.' Sounds epic, doesn't it?"

Lily, already giggling, chimes in. "Oh, I saw the picture you sent. It looked more like a chocolate mudslide!"

I raise an eyebrow. I didn't know Lily and Kate knew each other. Is this another Crossroads and Lilly situation?

"Yeah, well," Kate continues, rolling her eyes playfully, "I might have mixed up the baking soda with the baking powder. The cake sort of… exploded in the oven."

Marcus laughs. "Exploded? How do you explode a cake?"

Kate shrugs. "Talent, I guess. Anyway, it set off the smoke alarm, and the neighbors thought we were having a fire. The fire department showed up and everything!"

The room fills with laughter, the kind that's genuine and contagious. For a moment, the heaviness lifts, and we're just friends hanging out, sharing stories. Just friends. Just friends! Nothing weird here.

Lily, still chuckling, adds, "You should stick to buying cakes, Kate."

"Yeah, probably," Kate agrees, grinning. "But where's the fun in that?"

The conversation shifts naturally, bouncing from topics again and again until the sun starts going down. Kate's team made it pretty far in the state rankings for women's basketball. Marcus is planning on auditing courses from Temple or something. But eventually, as it always does, the conversation circles back to me.

It starts with silence, like it usually does. The conversation petering out, and then everyone turning to look at my shiny head.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Marcus's expression darkens. "You… fought the guy that killed Professor Franklin. And you survived. And you won."

I try to deflect, feeling uncomfortable with the spotlight back on me. "Uh, well, you know. It's not like I had much of a choice. Survival and all that. Wait, who told you?"

Kate's expression turns earnest. "Sam, we're not stupid. You got radiation poisoning. Then a radioactive supervillain turns himself in like two weeks later. How many radioactive supervillains do you know, Marcus?"

"Uh, do you want an actual answer to that, or…" Marcus mumbles, beginning to count on his fingers. He gets to three before Kate clasps his hands around his.

"No," she says.

I shift uncomfortably in the bed. "Yeah, well, I'm okay now. Mostly."

Lily nods, her expression softening. "We were all so worried, Sam. We visited you, you know."

"Wait, you visited me while I was out?" I ask, genuinely surprised. I'm not sure why. Is it because I all but vanished from their lives, and so I expected the same in return? "I didn't know that."

"Of course we did," Marcus says. "We're your friends. We care about you. Obviously we had to figure out, you know, what hospital you were in, stuff like that, but your parents looped us in once they figured it out."

"Is that why my two friend groups are besties now? Or I guess like… Three friend groups?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at Lily and Kate's sudden camaraderie. Or, sudden to me. I guess it makes perfect sense to them.

Kate adds, "Yeah, that's how we all got to know each other better. You know, mingling while you were… well, sleeping."

"Yeah, it happens," Lily says with a shrug. "We all just wanted to be there for you."

The conversation continues, drifting from the serious to the silly, from the profound to the mundane. It's a strange feeling, knowing that life went on while I was unconscious, that friendships grew and evolved in my absence. On one hand, I'm glad. I'm happy nobody's putting anything on pause for me, not even the mountains of schoolwork sitting on my nightstand.

On the other hand, it feels sort of like slipping. Like when you walk down the stairs in the dark and miss that last step before the landing. I feel uneasy, in the lurch. Like something's wrong and I don't know what it is. Am I afraid that everyone's leaving me behind? Probably.

I guess that's for the psychologist to pick apart.

----------------------------------------

I'm sitting on the edge of the physical therapy mat, feeling like a lump. Everything feels weird, my body doesn't even seem like mine. It's like I'm learning to be a person all over again. The therapist, a guy named Matt, is way too cheerful for my mood. He's got this big, goofy smile like he's hosting a kids' TV show.

"Alright, Samantha, ready to get started?" Matt asks, way too peppy. What's the word my Mom would use? "Twee"?

"Yeah, let's get this over with," I mutter. I'm not in the mood for chit-chat. I just want to do this and get back to my room.

We start with some basic stretches. I can't believe how stiff I am. It's like my body's made of wood, not flesh and bone. Every stretch sends a ripple of discomfort through me. It's not really painful, just… weird. Uncomfortable.

Matt's trying to make small talk, asking about school, my hobbies. I don't really feel like talking, but I give him short answers. Yeah, I go to Tacony Academy. Yeah, I like to play soccer, whatever. The most basic facts possible. I don't want this person to be my friend, because, frankly, the sooner I never have to see the inside of this place again the better. It's not enough that I'm useless, but I've also gotta be REMINDED of that. Uncool!

"You're doing great, just take it slow," he says as I try to touch my toes and fail miserably. I'm about as flexible as a brick right now.

I let out a huff of frustration, trying to reach further, but it's no use. "Great? I can't even touch my toes. I used to be able to do this with my eyes closed."

Matt chuckles, "Well, eyes closed might not be advisable right now. You'll get there, just give it time."

I want to snap at him, tell him time is what I don't have, but I bite my tongue. It's not his fault I'm like this. I really don't have anyone to blame except myself for surviving. Ouch. That one's bad. Let's tuck that one back in the emotion bottle for now.

We move on to some balance exercises. Standing on one foot, then the other. It sounds easy, but I'm wobbling like a toddler taking their first steps. It's embarrassing. I used to be able to scale brick walls with a running start and a good handhold, for crying out loud.

"You know, balance is one of the first things to go when you're inactive," Matt says, as if reading my mind. "But it comes back quicker than you think."

"Yeah, well, I'm not exactly feeling optimistic," I reply, trying not to fall over. This is ridiculous. I'm Bloodhound. I shouldn't be struggling with standing on one foot.

We take a break, and Matt hands me a water bottle. "Hydration is key," he says, still smiling. I take a sip, feeling the cool water slide down my throat. It's refreshing, at least.

"So, any hobbies besides reading?" Matt asks, leaning against the wall.

I shrug. "I used to do a lot of physical stuff. Running, climbing, that sort of thing. Soccer. I used to play a lot of soccer."

"Oh, an athlete! That's great, it'll help with your recovery," he says, nodding.

I don't have the heart to tell him that my 'athletics' as of late involved more sewer chases than track and field. "Sure, let's go with that."

I'm back on the mat, legs outstretched, trying to touch my toes again. It's an exercise that used to be so easy, but now it feels like climbing a mountain. Matt's right beside me, counting down the seconds. "Just a little further, Samantha. You can do it."

I reach, my fingertips straining towards my feet, and a sharp pain shoots through my side. I wince, clenching my teeth. It feels like razors licking at my insides.

"You okay?" Matt asks, concern etching his face.

"Just… the burns," I grit out, trying to push through the pain. "I got microwaved, apparently."

He nods, understanding, not blinking a second at the oddity of my injury. Does everyone here already know about me? Nobody seems particularly surprised. "Take it slow. Remember, your body's been through a lot. Let's try something else."

He helps me to sit up and we move on to leg lifts. Lying on my back, I raise one leg at a time. It's supposed to strengthen my core and improve flexibility, but each lift sends a jolt of discomfort through my muscles. I can feel the weakness, the lack of use they've endured. It's frustrating, to say the least.

"Good, good," Matt encourages as I lift my leg for the umpteenth time. "Feeling any pain?"

"A bit," I admit. "It's like my muscles are protesting."

"That's normal after being inactive for a while. Just tell me if it's too much."

We switch to arm exercises, using light dumbbells. I can barely lift them, my arms shaking with the effort. This is ridiculous. I used to throw punches like they were nothing, and now I'm struggling with a couple of pounds. At least my knuckles are still hard enough to dent metal, even if I can't throw them around with the force necessary.

"Steady… that's it," Matt guides me, his voice calm. "You're rebuilding strength, Samantha. It's a process."

I nod, focusing on the movement, trying to ignore the burning sensation in my arms. It's not just physical pain; it's a reminder of how much I've lost, how much I need to regain.

Finally, the session comes to an end. I'm exhausted, both physically and mentally. The pain from the burns, the atrophy, the everything, it's like a constant, dull ache. Like having a knife shoved in you but really slow. I would know. I've been stabbed a couple times.

"You did well today," Matt says, handing me a towel. "I know it's tough, but you're making progress."

I wipe my face, the towel absorbing the sweat and maybe a tear or two. "Doesn't feel like progress," I mutter.

"It is, trust me. Every day, you'll get a little stronger, a little better. You're a fighter, Samantha. I can see that."

Do these people have a deal with someone that earns them a dollar every time they unsubtly allude to my superheroics? Come on, man. Just treat me like a normal 14 year old with severe, almost lethal radiation poisoning.

As Matt leaves, I sit there for a moment, gathering my strength. The room is quiet, just me and my thoughts. It's going to be a long journey back to where I was. But I've never backed down from a challenge before, and I'm not about to start now. I take another sip of water, trying to shake off the gloom. I need to get better, not just for me, but for… well, for everything I need to do. Bloodhound isn't done, not by a long shot.

I stand up, my legs feeling like jelly. I take a step, then another.