At the end of swim practice, Emma rang out her hair. Ollie and Sebastian both ran their fingers through their short hair then shook their heads, spraying Emma and making her shiver.

“You going to the spring formal?” Sebastian asked.

“If Nan lets me.” Emma toweled her hair.

“And why wouldn’t she?” Ollie crossed her arms, pinning her own towel in place.

Emma froze, uncertain of what to say.

“Neurotypical crap, right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emma asked.

“Never mind.” Ollie hurried ahead towards the locker room. “See you in speech.”

“What’s her problem?” Sebastian patted his towel on a scab on his knee.

“Don't wanna talk about it.” Emma rubbed her chin, jaw throbbing. “I’m still trying to get my head around the UFO.”

“I can’t believe it. Right here, over Pueblo Lindo.”

“That scab’s almost gone, Bash.” Emma’d noticed the thing yesterday but hadn’t said anything.

“Even though I was running, I watched that green thing instead of where I was going.” Sebastian shook his head. “And boom. Down I went. So torpe.”

“But it’s healing nice.”

“Yeah.” Sebastian pulled a shirt over his head. “Too bad about Nan not letting you go to the dance.”

They kept chatting for longer than Emma meant to. By the time she got to the showers, Ollie had already left the locker room. Somehow, it was almost six when Emma stopped by Ms. Ngo’s classroom to get a list of careers to research for her project. And, she still needed to get dinner. Hopefully, Steve’s California Tacos would be better than the sandwich she’d had last Thursday.

Her hair damp, she hurried back to the speech room. If she were lucky, Ms. Range and the others would be there early. Otherwise, she’d be stuck at the picnic tables outside the Nottoli Dome. It might be a nice day for March, but she didn’t need to freeze outside when the sun set.

Thankfully, she could see the silhouette of Ms. Range and a handful of students through the window. Emma rushed into the warm classroom, her bag of tacos waving behind her like a lopsided tail.

Ms. Range and some of the other speechies stood in a semi-circle behind Connor, whose phone was playing a video. Riley had pushed her ever-present sunglasses up onto her forehead so they pinned back her hair like a headband. Ollie’s narrow frame squeezed between Ms. Range and Alex.

In her rush to see Connor’s phone, Emma stubbed her toe on his massive backpack. She yelped. How many books did he have in that thing? Still, no one noticed her.

Tinny voices shouted from Connor’s phone.

“Oh my God! Did you see that guy?” Alex asked.

“He coughed and the whole gas station blew up.” Ollie bounced up and down, and Emma recognized it as a stim.

“What is that—?”

Had Connor filmed his movie without inviting Emma to act in it? “What’s going on?” She craned her neck to glimpse the video.

“You haven’t seen them?” Connor pushed his shaggy, blonde hair out of his eyes and grinned.

“Seen what?” Emma felt stupid even asking. Everyone else had been entranced with the phone, making her the weird one out. Again.

“What are the odds that a couple days after EastTech’s launch these crazy things happen?” Ollie asked.

“Besides, where was the warning?” Alex asked before Emma could even open her mouth to ask what crazy things. “No news station reported the launch before it happened. And now—”

“Now what?” Emma asked frustrated. She hadn’t been online or really talked to anyone and she’d been cell phone free since school had let out. She didn’t want to admit she’d detoured by the special ed classroom. Even though she was getting to make up her project, she still refused to think she might be special needs.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“People are doing weird things. Like super powers things!” Connor pushed his phone into Emma’s hand, but with all the conversation going on and the tiny screen that kept playing, Emma struggled to focus on any one thing.

“It would seem.” Ms. Range kept her voice flat and even.

“What do you mean it would seem?” Connor stood and started pacing the room. “Things like this are all over uStream!”

“We don’t know if these videos are real or if they’re fake.” Ms. Range tucked one of her braids back. “Remember those scary clowns a few years ago? Nothing but promo for a tv show. Without more information, we can’t leap to conclusions.”

“These are real!” Connor threw himself into a chair, and it crumpled, spilling him onto the floor.

“Dude,” Ollie snickered. “Maybe you should lose some weight.”

“He’s too thin as it is.” Ms. Range helped Connor to his feet. “My momma would have said you all need more meat on your bones. Probably just an old chair.”

Ms. Range and Connor kept talking, but Emma stared down at the little screen in her hand. The next video started on autoplay. It was titled “Dredgetown Speedster.” Weird things were happening as close as Dredgetown?

In the video, she stared passed a balding head at two figures in dark clothes with ski masks. Each man pointed a gun at the poor clerk. From this angle, though, it seemed like the guns were aimed right at her.

A red blur zipped in. The guns disappeared and then bananas were pointed at her instead.

Emma blinked, trying to make sense of the blur. What had just happened?

A boy—too skinny to be a grown man—appeared leaning against the wall in the corner with a skateboard propped next to him. He wore red spandex that covered every inch of him, even zipping over his face.

Not an inch of skin or hair was exposed, but Emma had the strangest feeling that she’d seen him before. Then, in another blur, he tied up the robbers.

“Whether or not these videos are real, we can use them to practice for the big ParliPro debate next month.”

“Debate?” Emma asked, pulling herself out of the video. “I don’t do debate. I’m a speechie.”

“ParliPro’s different from the Lincoln-Douglas debates we usually have.” Ms. Range plopped into a student desk. “It’s a big room, everyone gets a priority number and can earn points just for speaking. It’s more like a mock senate than an LD debate.”

“I still don’t debate.” Emma tugged on her damp braid.

“Yeah,” Riley said with a smirk. “Last time you debated, it didn’t go to well. Didn’t you wind up arguing for the wrong side?” Riley gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. That was rude, wasn’t it?”

Emma shrugged. “Who knew arguing that legalizing non-THC marijuana in things like CBD oils was the same as arguing to make weed legal? Getting high’s different from taking something to reduce inflammation.”

“Your logic’s wrong,” Connor said, smiling. “Either way, it’s still making pot legal. But we love you anyway.”

“And,” Ms. Range said, “you’ll earn points for the team even if you don’t say a word. But it doesn’t matter what side you argue. If you talk, you’ll earn even more points for our team.”

Emma shrunk in her seat. This was a bad idea.

Riley frowned, too.

“Besides,” Ms. Range turned on her thousand-watt smile. “I especially want those who like to memorize a speech to participate. I want you all learn to think on your feet. It’s good for you.”

“I don’t like it,” Riley said. “I’ll wind up putting my foot in my mouth and saying something rude, like I just did to Emma.”

“That’s why we’re going to practice,” Ms. Range said. “Besides, Riley, you’re a senior and go off to college in the fall. You need to learn to think things through before you speak. Tonight’s topic will be vigilante superheroes. We’ve all seen them in movies, and with these videos it’s a good subject. If someone had superpowers, should they use their powers to stop crime even though acting as a vigilante is illegal?”

“I don’t follow.” Ollie put her hands on Emma’s chair.

Ms. Range stood and headed towards her desk. “If you had superpowers, would you be a vigilante, or would you hide your powers because being a vigilante is illegal? What should you do?”

There had to be more choices than that. If Emma could read people’s minds, she’d use her powers to blend in so she wouldn’t be so lost all the time.

“You can’t ask that question and walk away,” Ollie said, playing with Emma’s soggy braid. “What about you? What would you do?”

Ms. Range stopped by the French Revolution display. She patted the print of the picture of Leonardo DiCaprio as the Man in the Iron Mask as if he would tell her what she should do. “I’d try to right the wrongs of the world.” Ms. Range ran her fingers over the replica of the iron mask from the movie that sat on her desk.

The thing creeped Emma out, but Ms. Range said the mask made her feel like the real Louis the XIV was right there.

“What does that even mean?” Riley asked. “I mean, really? Isn’t that the police’s job?”

“No.” Ms. Range bit the word out. Her voice became harsh. “Some cops abuse their power.”

“My mom’s a cop and she—”

“Your mother is not all she is cracked up to be.” Ms. Range turned away. “The police have their hands full and they don’t always help. A few weeks ago, another black youth got shot by the police. Now, the cops involved are getting paid leave.”

“Only for the duration of the investigation.” Riley shrugged. “The police try to do their best and make sure everyone gets justice.”

“Everyone or white people?”

Alex gasped.

“Sorry. Just debating.” Ms. Range sighed. “But I should be asking the questions to get you to debate. In groups, come up with some responses to this situation. What should the government do if these powers are real? Should these people use their powers to be vigilantes like in the comics or should they do nothing? Should they work with the law or outside of it?”

Emma didn’t have answers, but her mind was suddenly buzzing with ideas.