The final bell of the day still ringing, Prowley High’s schoolyard buzzed with kids getting out of class. A lot headed straight for the gates, but a bunch stuck around, talking to friends or playing an impromptu game of soccer. I waited for Mai by the fence, alternatively looking towards the school’s doors and toe-stubbing the chainlink impatiently. I was raring to get going.

A new energy coursed through me. I had a new gameplan, and the frustration I’d been feeling was replaced in equal parts by hope and jitters. No more chasing down notifications on the Superhero tracker app. No more running across town. No more waiting on some never-gonna-happen chance to find Archangel somewhere in the middle of a Superhero incident. Now...I was going to go straight to the source. I knew who Archangel’s teammate was. And if I could just talk to him…

…I wasn’t exactly sure. I didn’t know exactly what to say to him or how to approach him, but I’d figure that out. I just had to do some planning.

The school doors opened and James Clyde stepped out, the man himself. He walked through the scattered assembly of students with his head down. He looked so...ordinary. I never would have suspected that he was anything but a regular high school kid.

“Heads up!”

The soccer ball from the game nearby got loose and went flying through the schoolyard. It struck James on the shoulder and bounced off like he was a cement wall; he didn’t even flinch - like watching somebody burn their hand on a match and not notice. The soccer boys ran after the ball, shouting apologies. James waved a hand like it was all good.

He’d just been chilling among us the whole time. An honest-to-goodness superhero at Prowley High. The Falcon.

I looked away so that it wouldn’t look like I was staring and continued watching out of the corner of my eye as James left the schoolyard and headed off down the road. I wondered if he ever got bored of walking when he could just fly.

“Hey!”

I jumped. Mai jogged up, her brown, highlighted hair bouncing around her.

“Hey!”

She looked in the direction I'd been looking. "Who was that?"

"Nobody."

She shrugged. "Ready?"

"Yup!"

We walked out of the schoolyard and started heading down the street

“Sooo,” said Mai, “how was maaaaath?”

“Oh, the quiz?” I asked. “Um…not too good.” It was a minor miracle I’d even managed to turn it in at the end of class, and I’d be surprised if I got more than 50% on it.

“Awww lame,” said Mai, sagging. “I gotta take that quiz tomorrow.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll do better than I did,” I said, hoping to cheer her up - or at least prevent her from getting too blue. “I was distracted.”

“Huh,” said Mai, unconvinced. “How did Hailey like it?”

“Uh, I didn’t see.”

“Did she leave right after class?”

“I guess.”

“Huh. Maybe the quiz was so bad she couldn’t bear to face you…”

I frowned. “I’m sure she did great.”

Mai nodded, shrugging. “Yeah…”

I shook my head. “You wanna come over and study? I can help.”

She opened her mouth, her face brightening, but paused before speaking. “Um…wouldn’t that be cheating? You’ve seen the quiz, Em!”

“Oh. I guess you’re right…although I promise I don’t remember any of it.”

She cracked up. “Geez, Em, what were you distracted by? Bois?

“Ha-ha. No.”

She leaned to the side, a sneaky smile on her face. “That’s just what you would say if you didn’t want me to know who it was!”

“Oh yeah, I’ll tell you all about him on the bus.”

She stopped walking, eyes widening. “Wait, really?”

“There is no boy, Mai.”

“Oh.” She deflated, actually losing five inches of height. “Well…there should’ve been.”

I felt a grin tug at my mouth in spite of myself. “I’ll let you know.”

“Hmm.”

We walked in rare silence for a moment. I mean, the cars on the street were loud and the city was always loud, but you took what you could get. My thoughts drifted back to the Falcon, and my heart thrilled with excitement for a second.

“...You sure there’s no boy?”

I looked over at her. “Why are you asking?”

“You just got really happy for a second there. If it ain’t a boy, what is it?”

I laughed. “Mai, it’s nothing-”

My voice trailed off. It took Mai a few seconds to notice I’d stopped before she paused and looked back at me.

“What’s up?”

There was a new poster tacked up on the wall. I’d seen plenty of posters of Archangel (they were everywhere), but this one made me pause. Most posters depicted Archangel in some sort of action, such as flying through the sky (like the billboard back at the Cross-town Express), or maybe powering up to fire off an energy beam. In this poster, Archangel was close to the viewer. He was reaching out his gauntleted hand, the metal glove warped to appear larger and life-sized, like he wanted to shake my hand.

The poster read:

Is there a hero in you?

The whole thing was so ironically hypocritical it made me want to slap myself to see if I was dreaming. It was so perfectly wrong.

“Oh,” said Mai excitedly, seeing the poster. “Yeah, that’s right, huh? Superhero tryouts are coming up!” She did a fist pump with gusto.

“Yeah,” I forced myself to say, staring into Archangel’s helmet. “I guess so, huh?”

Superhero tryouts. Twice each year the city held an event to invite new potential superheroes to show off their stuff and see if any of the superhero teams were interested in inviting them to join. They showed it on TV and people watched it like a sporting event or something. It was kind of like a mix of Ninja Warrior and Shark Tank.

“It’s just two weeks away,” said Mai. “Dude, you should totally come over and we can watch together!”

“Uh…” The Superhero tryouts hadn’t been enjoyable to me for some time. “Maybe…”

“Oh come on,” said Mai. “You used to love Be My Hero.”

I shrugged, wishing I hadn’t stopped to stare at the poster. Mai reached out and touched Archangel’s hand on the poster…

Okay, that was too much.

“Let’s go.” I turned and started walking without waiting for her.

“Hey, wait up!” Mai jogged to catch up, dancing with each step. “You’re the one who stopped.”

“Sorry, Mai.”

She smiled. “You’re acting weird again.”

I gave her a glance. “Weird?”

“Yeah. Like, sometimes you just stop and zone out for a bit. And when you come back, you’re like...crotchety.”

“...Crotchety?”

“Hey, it’s a word!”

“I know it’s a word. Why’d you say it?”

“Because you are.” She raised her eyebrows at me, her smile not dropping an inch. “You were so happy just barely, and then you zoned out, and now you’re crotchety.”

I breathed out exasperatedly. The more annoyed I got, the more I proved her right that I was...crotchety.

“Well...thanks for letting me know,” I said in an even tone, stopping myself from rolling my eyes. “I’m, uh...sometimes things get me...annoyed.”

“Yeah…”

There was something about the way she’d said it that made me look at her. She was still smiling, but the nature of her smile had changed from excited...to thoughtful.

“What’s up?”

She sighed. “Look, we’re friends. I’m your friend. I can tell when you’re not you. Yeah?”

I blinked. “Okay.”

She nodded and shrugged like that explained everything.

We reached Prowley Street where we normally said our goodbyes, but I hesitated. It felt like we’d just started a new conversation, but there was a lot of stuff that had been left unsaid. And I felt this weird feeling in my stomach. Guilt. Me being...crotchety...wasn’t fair to Mai.

“Mai, I’m fine.”

“I know,” she said. “Most of the time you’re good. It’s just sometimes.”

Like when I saw a poster or a billboard of Archangel or something.

“Well…” what did I say? “Sorry, Mai. I...I guess I am kind of...crotchety sometimes.”

She laughed and gave me a hug.

“You’re fine. Don’t worry about it. I just can’t wait for you to be you again.”

We pulled apart. It was time to go.

“How long have you been waiting?”

Mai shrugged. “Well, most of the time you’re good. But I think it really started something like six months ago. Before summer started.”

Of course.

“You’ve...just been waiting around that long? Waiting for me to go back to normal?”

“Well...yeah,” she said awkwardly. “I mean - I don’t just sit around and wait, you know? We still hang out and have fun. Nothing’s changed.”

The conversation lapsed. We both felt awkward now.

“I’ll, uh...I’ll see what I can do to fix things,” I said.

“Yeah.”

“Thank you. For being my friend. Anyways. You know?”

She smiled again. “I got your back.”

I nodded. “Well, I guess I gotta get home.”

“Yeah.”

I turned to leave.

“If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here, you know.”

I swung back to her. There were so many things I couldn’t say.

“Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

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

I turned onto my street, my eyes down at my feet. It felt like a slimy ball of acid was rolling around in my stomach.

I should have realized how much my preoccupation with Archangel had been affecting other things. My personality. My friends. Yes, I knew that I’d been devastated and unhappy for the last six months, but I’d missed that it could affect stuff outside of myself. It made me feel so bad. And childish. For letting my problems make Mai’s life harder. I mean, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, her life didn’t hang on mine, but still - in this way - maybe a small way - I’d made it worse.

I hadn’t realized...how good of a friend she was. I’d been different - taciturn, prickly, moody, the works - and she’d just been there for me like a champ.

I hadn’t realized how much better of a person she was than I.

I entered my building and paused before starting up the old, wooden stairs.

For the first time I wondered: Is chasing after Archangel really worth it?

It hurt to even let myself form the thought. I...might...be...wrong?

“Why am I doing this?” I said out loud. The words filled the empty stairwell, briefly, and ebbed to silence, like water splashing on sand and slowly seeping into it.

But I knew even as I said it, even as it hurt to say it, that I couldn’t let it go. Giving up on Archangel would be surrendering to an even greater darkness - a path I didn’t dare imagine. I was stuck with the pain. I couldn’t fix it, and I couldn’t let it go.

I stood in silence, the muted sound of traffic leaking through the door behind me, and I let out a long, slow breath. “Then let’s hurry it up and talk to Falcon. And fix things.”

Fix things. That more than anything would bring me healing, and would restore Mai’s friend to the way she was supposed to be.

I hurried up the stairs, thinking about it all.

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

I turned the key in the lock and let myself into my family's apartment. The strong fragrance of lavender flooded my olfactory, and I subconsciously switched to breathing through my mouth, like I always did. Mom was in the kitchen already working on dinner, chopping up some chicken while a pot steamed pleasantly on the stove. The small TV mom kept on the counter buzzed away; some talk show was on, and mom turned the volume down to a quiet murmur when she saw I was home.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Hi, mom," I said, dropping my backpack and taking a seat at the counter.

"Welcome home," she said, looking up briefly from her work. "How was school?"

"Good," I said. "Um…I've got an essay to write for English, and in pre-calc we had a…a good time.”

"Oh, fun," said mom. "How was the quiz?"

"Actually not too good,” I said sheepishly. “I got distracted.”

“Oh no,” she said, the chopping pausing. “I thought you were doing so well with the material.”

I shrugged.

She put down her chicken knife and looked over at me, really seeing me for the first time. There must have been something off with my tone or expression because her eyes filled in concern. “Ember, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, trying to make it sound like her question was no big deal.

“Are you sure? Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened. I’m fine.”

I stopped myself. Somehow the words that came out of my mouth always felt sharper when I was around my mom. I shook myself and tried to think of a different subject. “It’ll be alright. Um…jiaozi tonight?" I gestured at the contents of her mixing bowl.

"It's Aunt Mei's favorite," she replied, still looking at me. "She'll be here in an hour."

I looked at the clock, partly so that I didn’t have to look at her. "Do you mind if I get a bit of homework done before dinner?"

"Sure. Do you want to help with folding the dough in a bit?"

"Okay."

Mom looked like she wanted to keep talking and make sure I was okay, but she let me step away from the counter for the moment. I was glad because I didn’t know if I could take it right then.

I sat down at the desktop computer on the other side of the room, hoping to distract myself with some homework. I wondered what Mai was doing at that moment in her family’s apartment a few blocks away. Earlier she’d invited me over to watch that exasperating show for the superhero tryouts. I had used to love watching it. In another time I would have jumped at the invitation.

I shook my head and opened a word processor on the computer, trying to focus. Maybe I could get started on that essay from English. I typed in my name and the date and positioned the cursor on a new line, trying to think of how to start. Mr. Barry said he wanted us to write about a superhero and what makes them a good hero. Okay…I started typing.

Superheroes…are….good.

I rubbed my eyes. I had a pretty weird complex about superheroes these days, and I didn’t look forward to pretending otherwise in a school essay. I couldn’t write about Archangel, so it’d have to be a different one. I sighed and forced out some words.

My favorite superhero is Shell from Quantum Edge because her role is designated rescuer. While her teammates deal with more direct threats, such as combating a fire or confronting a hostile actor, Shell goes first to the people in trouble. She might not be as visible in the public eye because she doesn’t get into as many fights, but she saves more people than anyone else on her team.

I stopped and read what I’d just written. “Why was that so hard?” The minute hand had moved three numbers around the clock. I had to agree with Mai on this: I did not like writing essays.

I was about to start on another paragraph when some dialogue from the TV mom was watching caught my ear.

"And now we have the privilege of welcoming our guest here today, Grapple, superhero extraordinaire!"

I looked up from the computer. The TV showed a press photo of the superhero Grapple.

"They're interviewing a superhero?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's a special or something," said mom.

I hesitated. "Can you turn it up a bit?"

Mom clicked the volume button with her elbow because she had raw meat on her hands, and the interviewer's voice became more audible.

“Come on out on stage, Grapple!”

A costumed superhero walked from backstage to cheering and applause from the studio audience. He smiled dutifully but warmly and gave an acknowledging wave.

Grapple was the leader of Quantum Edge, the third superhero team in the city. He was a telekinetic, and had the ability to pull any object or objects he chose towards himself, so long as he had line of sight, seemingly regardless of weight and size.

"Grapple, it's so good to have you here in the studio with us today."

"I'm glad to be here, thank you Tori," Grapple replied easily. He had a warm British accent that mixed well with his unassuming persona.

"Now listen, we've got a lot of people in our studio audience today that are curious about Quantum Edge's newest member."

"Oh, yes," said Grapple. "We're excited, too, believe me."

"We all saw Quantum Edge's post on Thursday and we're excited to learn more about them."

"Well, I'll share what I can, Tori," Grapple said with a chuckle. It felt a little staged.

"What can you tell us about her?"

"Our newest addition is called Foresight. She has precognitive powers."

"Wow!" cried the interviewer, perfectly amazed.

Grapple nodded eagerly. “Oh, yes. She’s an incredible addition to the team. And I’ll tell you, I’m excited to see how she does in our next operation.”

"Ready to help with these?" mom asked, holding up a square of dough.

I’d been turned around in my chair just watching instead of working on my essay. "Uh, yeah, just let me wash my hands."

I saved my work (One paragraph. Nice.) and moved over to the kitchen area to help mom fold dough around the dumpling innards, still watching the interview.

“So tell us - how did you find Foresight? What drew your eye?"

"We found Foresight just how you might expect. The tryouts that are held every six months with the Be My Hero program have been getting very interesting lately, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, I still remember last season - so many incredible talents, so many show-stopping moments!”

“You’re telling me - I was in some of those events, and, well, let’s just say the pyrotechnics are a little hotter when you’re in the same room!”

The interviewer laughed and said, "And Foresight came to the last tryout?"

“That’s right! You may remember her - she was the contestant who wore the mask with roses on it.”

“Oh - oh, yes, I do! You already know I’ll be looking up all those videos when I get home today.”

"We are very glad to have been able to pick her up for Quantum Edge. In fact," said Grapple, turning to the camera, "This may be a good opportunity to invite anyone in the audience who may be interested in joining a superhero team. Applications are currently being accepted for the coming season. Go to our website for more details. We're looking for the best and strongest super-powered individuals in the city to come serve with the finest superhero team ever assembled. Come on over to the tryouts and we'll see what you've got! Can't wait to meet you."

“How many people do you think are out there that have superpowers and nobody knows about them?” I asked.

“Hmm?”

I don’t think mom had even been paying attention to the TV. I pointed at Grapple on the screen with a dumpling-covered finger. “He just invited everyone out there that has superpowers to go be on Be My Hero. You ever wonder how many of them there are? People with powers?”

“Oh,” mom said, considering. “I think there was a study done back when I was in college. It said something like one in ten thousand people have powers.”

“Huh,” I said. “So in a city like Jarvis Port…”

“Five hundred or so.”

I did a double-take. “Five hundred? Does the city know about them?”

“Not until they show up on Be My Hero as a contestant,” said mom. “They’re undocumented. Strays.”

A round of applause emanated from the TV. Grapple and the interviewer were welcoming someone in a deep red costume onto the stage.

“Is that her, then?” I asked. “Foresight?”

“I guess so.”

She was tall and beautiful (from what you could tell with the mask). Wavy locks of blonde hair framed a sparkling mask that looked like it was made out of the same material as Dorothy’s ruby slippers. She waved at the crowd as the clapping continued on for a few more seconds, a wide smile on the part of her face that wasn’t covered.

“Why would someone decide to join a superhero team?” I found myself asking.

Mom listed out reasons without looking up. “Duty. Power. Thrills. Money.”

“Money?” I asked, surprised.

“Of course. They get paid, you know. By the city.”

“Welcome, Foresight!” exclaimed the interviewer as the three of them sat down. “We are so excited you are here with us! First of all, how does it feel to have gone through the Be My Hero tryouts and to have MADE IT into Quantum Edge?”

The audience responded to the interviewer’s enthusiasm and cheered again, and Foresight beamed, waiting to speak.

“Thank you, Tori, it feels AMAZING! I can’t believe I made it, to be honest. This really is a dream come true!”

“She’s younger than I thought,” said mom. “Judging from her voice.”

I had to agree; her level of excitement was through the roof. I remembered my conversation with Mai and Hailey about trying to determine the age of young superheroes earlier in the day and my unfruitful internet search.

“So tell me, Foresight…great hero name, by the way, I love it!...I understand that you’ve been wearing the cape for about two weeks now, is that right? What have you done so far as a superhero?”

“Oh! Well, Quantum Edge has been really great and letting me start things slow, you know? Letting me get the hang of things. So I’ve been doing really quiet things like patrol duty and surveillance. But I cannot wait to get into some of the more intense stuff!”

Grapple chuckled good-naturedly in the seat next to hers while the interviewer laughed like she’d told a good joke.

“‘More intense stuff,’ you’re just born to be a superhero, aren’t you? Well I for one can’t wait either! Can’t we?” the interviewer turned to the audience who cheered enthusiastically again. Foresight flashed another smile.

“Keep an eye out for me! I’ll be making headlines in no time!”

“Why do you think she wanted to be a hero?” I asked.

Mom barely spared the TV a glance. “Fame.”

It seemed a trivial motive for some reason. “You don’t think she cares about keeping the peace and all that? The greater good?”

Mom shook her head, her tone turning strangely sour. “Her being on TV right now? The audience clapping? Lots of people watching in their homes while they make dinner? This is it to her. This is being a superhero.”

Foresight laughed at something the interviewer said. Her face was alive, her movements animated. It might have been the happiest day of her life.

“You might be right,” I said.

“I suppose there are worse reasons to be a hero,” mom said. “She’ll still do her duty. She’ll probably enjoy it, too, because her fame is tied to it. When others see her deeds, her fame will grow.”

“And that’s what she cares about.”

Mom nodded. We both watched the TV for a bit. The interviewer was asking Foresight about her powers and how they worked. It was something about being able to read intentions. If someone was going to be angry soon or try to attack someone else, Foresight said she could sense it. She talked about how each person emanated an aura that she could see…or feel (she was a little vague), and some people felt “hot” to her and others were “cold.”

Through it all her palpable excitement only grew. The audience loved it, and I wondered what her powers were telling her about the other people in the room with her. Could she tell when the interviewer was ready to ask her next question? Could she tell when the audience was about to cheer and clap at an answer?

“Do you think she was happy when her powers manifested?” I asked.

“I’d say so. It sounds like she dreamed of being a superhero before she even got powers. So when she manifested…”

“…she was overjoyed.”

Mom nodded. We looked at each other but didn’t say anything. It sounded like someone we knew, but it wasn’t a happy topic of conversation.

"Do you want to change the channel?" Mom asked.

"No, it's fine," I said.

I sensed her glancing over at me for a moment. I kept my head down, focusing on my dumpling. I heard the channel change.

We continued in silence for a bit, making our little army of dumplings, our conversation dried up for the moment. I had a question bouncing around my head, but I knew mom wouldn’t like it. But maybe…maybe today I was in a mood where I didn’t care.

“Why did Ben become a superhero?”

Mom paused. “Em…” Her tone had warning in it.

“Mom, it’s just a question.”

I looked over at her, exasperated. She stared back for long seconds, her expression stern. Ben had been on both of our minds, but we rarely spoke of him because when we did, it often ended in loud arguments. I knew she’d react this way, but I wasn’t about to let her win - to let her make us pretend that Ben didn’t exist.

I wasn’t sure she’d answer at all, so when she did blinked in surprise.

“Because he felt he had to.”

I waited a beat for an explanation. “He had to?”

Mom smiled thinly. “Well, whether he actually had to or not I couldn’t say. But he believed it.”

I waited for her to continue. Eventually she did.

“He came to us, your dad and me, before he tried out on that show to join one of the teams. He wanted to know what we thought. I’m his mother. I was worried. I thought he’d get into fights or something and he’d get hurt. He hadn’t had his powers very long, so we didn’t know how strong he was.

She sighed. “I told him that it didn’t have to be him. If he didn’t go to the tryouts, then those teams would just pick someone else. There would still be enough superheroes in the city. He didn’t have to do anything.”

She turned her head, looking in the general direction of the fridge, remembering.

“He said, ‘Mom, there are things only I can do. If I don’t go, those things won’t happen.’”

Her words hung heavy in the air, her expression set, but I felt something warm kindle in my spine. That sounded like the Ben I remembered.

I found myself smiling. “So…you let him go?”

Mom was quiet, still caught up in her memory of that day. “I guess I did.”

Had she still not wanted him to put on the cape? I wondered if she’d ever changed her mind over the years, or if she still worried, even today, never mind that he was invincible. She looked so sad that I tried to change the subject a bit.

“Did Ben like having superpowers?”

Mom blinked, seeming to come out of a trance. “I suppose he did. At first.”

“But eventually that changed?”

Mom nodded. “In the beginning he wasn’t a very well-known hero - at least not as much as he got to be. He loved saving the day and seeing himself on the news. He loved being on a superhero team - he really looked up to his teammates. He would come home and tell us about what he’d done that day. Like how he’d blocked a bullet or flown up and waved at passengers on an airplane. I think he felt like he was doing what he set out to do. Making a difference.”

I remembered some of those stories myself. “What changed? Or Why?” And why hadn’t I noticed?

Mom hesitated, but went on. “I think his duty as a hero became heavier over time. Especially as he got more well-known, I think he saw himself as a leader, even among other heroes, and he had to set an example for everyone. He had to be perfect. He’d start getting after himself for little things. Even outside of costume. Like he started driving exactly the speed limit.”

I gasped. “Oh, yeah - I remember that! I always got mad at him!”

Mom laughed. “It drove us crazy, and it wasn’t just that. No jaywalking, clean up all the litter we saw, be kind to everyone…he would greet random people we passed on the street and ask how they were doing.”

“That’s so weird,” I said before I could stop myself. In a city like Jarvis Port, it really was. If a stranger did that to me, I’d avoid eye contact and pointedly walk faster. “But that doesn’t have anything to do with being a superhero.”

“He thought it did,” mom said with a smile. “He saw a big connection between his efforts as a hero to make the city better and his life out-of-costume. If he broke any rules while not wearing a cape, then what kind of city was he trying to make? To him it would have been undermining his whole purpose. His vision.”

“What a…an interesting perspective.”

Mom sighed. “Well, anyways, he really became a stickler with the rules and stuff. And he became less happy, too.”

“And that was before all of…”

I trailed off. Mom gave me another warning glance but let it slide. “Yes.”

I stared at the opposite wall while I thought about it, a half-made dumpling forgotten in my hands. “I wish he would talk to us about it.”

“Me, too,” said mom.

I felt silly saying it, but I still asked, “He uh…he still loves us, right?”

“Yes,” mom said fervently. “Without a doubt.”

I nodded, unexpectedly feeling a lump in my throat. “Then why did he leave?”

“Em…”

Mom’s voice had a sudden, slight edge. That hurt, too.

“Mom, will you ever tell me what happened that day?”

I turned to her, blinking my eyes to keep from crying. It had been a long day. She stared back, and I could see sorrow in her face - and maybe something else. Pity? Shame?

“I don’t know what happened, Ember. I’m sorry.” Then, in a softer voice, “He is my son. I miss him, too.”

I sat down on one of the counter stools. Mom sat down next to me. I had expected that we would fall into an argument like we usually did, but this…well, it wasn’t exactly a happy conversation, I supposed, but it sure felt better than yelling. I found myself leaning on my mom’s shoulder. She stiffened a bit, like she wasn’t used to it. I guess it’d been awhile.

“Do you think he’ll ever come home?”

For the longest time mom didn’t answer. When she did, she sounded tired, like she’d been sitting in this kitchen watching the door, waiting for him to come back for longer than I had. “He may someday. When he feels he’s finished what he’s trying to do.”

“What’s that?”

“The thing that only he can do. Keep us safe.”

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

We finished making the dumplings in silence, washed our hands, and went on with our afternoon. And even though we didn’t speak, something had changed. For the first time in what felt like ages - six months - the apartment felt like a home. Like a bird’s nest instead of a wasp’s.

I loved my mom, and I knew that she loved me. The companionship and understanding felt so good, so I didn’t want it to end. But eventually I said something about homework and left down the hall to my room.

I closed the door behind me and flicked on the light, and my room was illuminated. A bed. A desk. A small shelf filled with childrens’ books that hadn’t been replaced as I’d grown up. A closet in the corner.

And posters. Countless posters taped and tacked all over the room, slapped-on down to the floor and up to the ceiling, covering the closet door and cramping the window. So many that it was hard to see what color the walls were. They all had one thing in common:

They were all of Archangel.

Some had the rest of The Guardians standing around him, but the vast majority were dedicated solely to him. His white armor gleamed a hundred times over, duplicated in every facet of the room. The dark recess of his helm where his eyes were hidden stared out protectively like a patron saint watching over his parishioners.

I sighed and leaned against the door, surveying the space. If anyone saw all of this, they’d think I was an overly-obsessed fangirl. That wasn’t quite the truth.

I fell onto my bed and stared at the ceiling. There were even posters up there, taped all over and around the light. There was one directly above my head - so from my current position on the bed I was looking at it straight on.

It was an unusual poster for two reasons. First was the photography. Rather than facing towards the camera like most of his posters, Archangel was facing away so his back was to the viewer. His helmet was off and held under one arm, and his head was just out of frame. In the distance you could see Jarvis Port, so that Archangel was looking protectively over the city. Having his helmet off was supposed to give him a rare moment of humanity to make him more relatable. It was an older poster; Archangel didn’t do stuff like that these days.

The second reason the poster was unusual was because it was autographed. Archangel’s last big fan meet-and-greet had been months and months ago. He didn’t sign things anymore, so anything with his autograph was getting pretty rare.

The cursive script read: Best sister ever!