Being able to fly was convenient for me until my friends remembered I also had super strength, and then I was basically turned into a free-of-charge taxi service at their beck and call. When I was learning how to fly a few years ago, I had to concentrate on doing one or the other, or else I would either fall through the sky and kiss the grassy hills of Kansas (which news reporters at the time thought were being made by giant mole people living in the soil), or wear myself thin trying to keep several pounds of dead human weight in my arms from hitting the ground far, far below us.

And between you and me, humans were pretty allergic to hitting things very hard.

Saving people from burning buildings, supervillain attacks, and colossal public Kaiju brawls had made sure I got a lot better at it, but I had a little bit of a hunch that Emelia lied to me when she came out of the shower and told me she was too exhausted to run to 12th Avenue. We argued (because when didn’t we?), but we were already flying over the city, herself cradled in my arms, listening to music, and my back straining as we flew so, so damned slowly through the air. Far too late to keep arguing, and there wasn’t any point, anyway. But it felt like crawling through mud, molasses, and I was losing my mind having to go the freaking speed limit in the open sky.

Maybe a little slower than the speed limit, because even though Em was a speedster, meaning she was always going to be a little tougher than your average Normal, it didn’t mean I could tear through the sky at hundreds of miles an hour because, well, she was human at the end of the day. I also kinda didn’t want to blow my friend’s eardrums or turn her into bloody paste in my arms if I suddenly had to come to a stop and her bones carved right through her muscle and skin. Thank the Gods, though, because I’d never done it to anyone yet. I had a hunch it would happen, but I wasn’t gonna experiment it, unless a supervillain ever got any ideas about pissing me off.

Emelia pulled out one earbud. “Could you slow it down? I can’t hear over the wind.”

I grumbled under my breath and slowed. “Is that any better, your highness?”

“A lot, thanks,” she said. “It’s not music, anyway. It’s a news broadcast. I think some guy on socials was freaking out about seeing a Kaiju lurking around the upper west side a minute ago.”

A Kaiju all the way in the upper west? “Did he see what it looked like? Someone new?”

She shrugged. “Nada. Lucy thinks the guy just edited the pictures for clout.”

I could almost feel the handful of minutes being Rylee slipping through my fingers, a lot like laying in bed knowing your alarm was about to go off any second now. I’d keep an eye out, but it was a little hard to spot a Kaiju sometimes because they didn’t always look like animals or monsters, but humans with strange habits, like staring at flies too hard or muttering about the lovely smell of their coffee after they dipped their tongues into it. Some kind of genetic mutation, or something, made a few of them different that way, made it possible for them to hide in plain sight without giving away what they really were inside. I hadn’t read up on them as much as I probably should have, but it made you paranoid, because who was sitting next to you on the bus? Was that really your mom knocking on your door at midnight, or something that just looked a lot like her?

That thing making sounds in the alley deep at night, squelching and wet, could be nothing, just sounds in your head, but it could also be a starving Kaiju sinking their teeth into fresh prey.

I shuddered a little, but I knew that wasn’t fair on them. It wasn’t all Kaiju being bad.

But for whatever reason, it always tended to be the Kaijus killing suburban families.

Emelia tucked away her earbuds and said, “Churros first, then you’ll deal with them. And speed it up a little, would you, Blondie? They’re half-off for about another few minutes I think.”

“Maybe I should act like a blonde and forget that I’m carrying you,” I muttered to myself.

Slowly, 12th Avenue came into view below us. From up here, it simply looked like a wide stream of people milling around a chubby cherub spewing water from its puckered lips, dining at outdoor cafes and restaurants, and walking toward the shopping center which almost made the avenue a run way directly toward it. It was the upper west side realized in stone and marble, polished glass and shining steel structures (supposedly) strong enough to withstand S Grade supervillain attacks. The rich and famous wouldn’t be found dead here, too many normal people walking around with cameras and phones at the ready, but having deep pockets around these parts helped a ton in making sure you could make it through the valley of hawkers and food stalls.

Which I didn’t have, but I luckily had a friend who did. Emelia pointed to a small churro stall close to the fountain attached to a row of other similar small food stalls. Chairs were set up in front of the line of stalls, giving people places to sit and eat and talk. Places like this weren’t usually my scene (and totally not because I saw people my age enjoying their summer), but Olympia was a superhero, and around these parts, the word superhero meant movies, tv shows, and some girl who sometimes saved those poor, poor people in Lower Olympus. The skyscrapers were taller here, the people happier, however false their smiles. It felt so damned pointless. And boring. The worst kind of villain I’d probably find around here would be petty purse snatchers.

But a few coffee-sipping, donut-eating cops were keeping an eye out, whatever that would do to tame the small amount of crime. I guessed it made the Normals around here feel a little safer.

All it did for me was make me wonder how long the police would let me walk around before trying to get handcuffs on me. The last I heard, there was a warrant out for my arrest. Something to do with killing criminals and international law and blah, blah, blah. I’d be gone before they wiped the crumbs off their mustaches and halfway across the city before they could yell for me to stop, put my hands up, and don’t resist the attempts to put their bracelets on me.

Being who I am, though, meant showing up un-announced was getting people’s attention. I heard someone say my name, then saw a camera flash in the corner of my eye as I landed in the food court area, a stone-throw away from the fountain. A surge of them came our way, a tide of curious civilians with phones in their hands and questions being flung from their mouths. Too many to pick out, too many questions I wasn’t going to answer, because from what Lucas had taught me, answering the public’s questions opened the door for them to keep asking more.

And once you opened that door, there was no trying to force it shut.

“I told you coming in costume was a terrible idea, Ry,” Emelia said right in my ear.

I shrugged, arms up. “Hey, what can I say, they love to see a real life superhero.”

“Oh my God!” a troop of girls nearly screamed. They were the closest in the mob to us, all with the kind of faces only money could buy. “Can we get a picture? It’ll be quick. Just one.”

I smiled at Em, then said, “Yeah, of course. But not too many, ‘cause I’ve got to—”

They forced their way past me and flocked around Emelia, bubbling and excited, throwing so many questions at her that she couldn’t answer a single one without having to answer another. Each was about her clothes, who she was wearing, what she and Grant were doing between season breaks, if there was ever a chance if she was going to get her very own spinoff show some day, and… What the hell? I blinked, a little confused, as the rest of the crowd, mostly people our age, some a little younger, a few a little older, rushed toward her instead, their cameras flashing and their smiles and pointing plenty. I was another person in the crowd who just so happened to be wearing a costume and, oh, right, had golden eyes and golden electricity streaming off my body.

But nobody cared about that, because they suddenly wanted to know about the next season of Atomville, and if the rumors were true that she and Grant had finally tied the knot last week.

Am I suddenly see-through? I thought, looking around and getting stumbled into by Normals who would try to push against me but wouldn’t get anywhere. What the hell is going on?

I hovered a little, making it easier to get through the crowd until I was back beside Em. I cleared my throat loudly, far louder than a human could, and interrupted the girls still begging for a good picture, just like the dozens of other people doing the same thing. “Hey there,” I said, and the girls turned to me at once, this venomous look on their faces that yanked me straight back to home room for the past several years. I still felt that crevice open up in my gut, felt that poisonous heat seep through my veins as I met their eyes, except this wasn’t high school anymore, and I was Olympia now, and that’s what I’d remind them of right now. “I’m Olympia, by the way. I save the city sometimes”—silence, their eyebrows pinched—“and I’m also Zeus’ daughter, so here I am.”

“We know who you are,” a girl with green eyes said. “And who freaking cares?”

“Who cares?” I asked, incredulous. “You should care. I save your life everyday!”

Her nose wrinkled. “I live in Kampa Bay, not the lower east. All you do is make traffic.”

One of them waved her phone at me. “Could you take a picture of us? Thanks.”

“What?” I said. “I don’t… I’m me. I fight supervillains and criminals and—”

“—and take pictures for people who ask politely?” she asked, forcing the phone into my hands with a smile. “Oh, how nice of you! Just make sure you get all of us, and fly, maybe, just so you can get a better view of everyone. Just hit the button right there, and do not break my phone.”

I stared at the phone, at the girl, then at Emelia, who shrugged a little sheepishly. I sighed, lifted the phone, and took a half-hearted picture. I didn’t care to check if it came out correctly, and when I was done, I tossed it back at the girl who handed it to me. Whatever, I thought, flying again and now heading toward the churro stand. She’s just got her head too far up her ass. It didn’t matter to me, because, from what I saw, the churros were half-priced for another ten minutes, and the line had damn-near dissipated when I dropped Emelia off near the fountain. She was fine, anyway. Her media training was kicking in and she was answering questions and signing autographs as if she had been running around Lower Olympus last night getting punched in the face by creeps I’d never even seen before. But… sure, fine. I’d let her have her time in the sun.

I’d do her a favor and run up as big of a churro bill as I could on her behalf then.

“Hi!” the girl behind the short counter said. “I’m guessing you’re here for the steak?”

Hilarious. “Could I get as many churros as possible? Like in one massive bag? Thanks.”

“The best I can do is twenty without my boss throwing a fit,” she said, shrugging. I waved her onward, and she somehow smiled even brighter. “Great! That’ll be… thirty dollars. Cash or—”

I balked. “Thirty dollars for freaking churros?” I asked. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

She shook her head. “These churros are 100% organically farmed and shipped in.”

“Farmed? Shipped in?” I waited for her smile to break so she could fill me in on the joke, but apparently she was being dead serious. “And you’re telling me these are half-priced?”

She nodded, ponytail swaying. “Says right there on the little piece of paper.”

I couldn’t believe my ears, both because Emelia was still being flocked, and two because I was sure this was extortion of some kind. “C’mon,” I said, lowering my voice. “But I’m Olympia.”

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“Good for you!” she said cheerfully. “But if you could just pay, that would be really swell.”

I tugged at my thighs. “In case you haven’t noticed, this thing doesn’t have any pockets.”

She sucked air through her teeth. “Then I’m guessing no churros for you, huh?”

“It’s fine, I’ll pay for her.”

I should have smelled that scent minutes ago, that sickly sweet caramel scent that would stick to my clothes every time she had a sleepover, from when the girl with brown hair noticed me from the very edge of the crowd and started trying to make her way toward me. I should have seen her face and studied her eyes, watched the tiny scar on the edge of her upper lip curl as she smiled when she finally stood beside me. My head was suddenly stuffed full of thoughts, thick like wet cotton that shoved every single reasonable thought right up against my pulsating skull. She was taller than I last remembered, or maybe it was because I wasn’t expecting to see her again that altered long-ago silenced memories of her. Her hair had streaks of blonde in it, lost in the thick chocolate brown. Fewer freckles. Brighter eyes. Her knuckles were a little bit more scarred.

But Bianca still looked exactly like the girl I had last seen when she kissed me at prom.

Not me, I reminded myself, my tongue fat and useless in my mouth. She kissed Olympia.

I stood there for a moment, unmoving, the world around me a hazy blur as she smiled at me. My heart was a drum beating against my chest, so loud I was sure she could hear it, too.

My stomach was a mess. My throat ached as I swallowed very bitter saliva.

“Great!” Churro Girl said, handing her the bag. “Have a lovely day. Come back soon!”

“When I saw you flying through the sky, then landing at the fountain, I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

You and me both, I thought. We had left the churro stand and the now slightly thinner crowd, finding a shaded spot just in front of a blooming flower store. The bright flowers gushed with this overwhelmingly sweet smell, but maybe it was just because my senses were working overtime right now. Most were wet with nectar, saccharine to my sensitive nostrils, but Bianca being here made it even harder to concentrate on what senses should be focusing on what.

A part of me wanted to leave, fly off right that second and find a crime to stop. It wasn’t running away, because there was always something that needed my attention, and I was sure that Lucas needed my help with something, and wasn’t there some kind of brewing gang war I had to deal with? What was I doing there, standing in front of her, sweating like an idiot, when I could be out there in Lower Olympus getting down and dirty with whoever wanted to fuck with my city.

But I didn’t move an inch, almost as if she’d struck me with some kind of mind control.

“It’s okay,” I said, forcing something to come out of my mouth. I cringed, knowing that wasn’t a proper reply, but I could barely muster the will to stop sweating, let alone speak correctly.

She smiled a little. “And would it also be okay if I asked about… you know?”

I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. “I’ve got this thing I need to do. Crime. Fight crime.” Yes, I heard the words coming from my mouth, and hated every syllable of them just as much.

Her smile weakened, something I felt in my chest. “Oh, right. Sorry. You’ve been really busy lately, anyway, with all those new supervillains. You’re doing a great job, by the way. I love watching you fight. That slam you did on the beach against the villain wearing all that fist tape? Awesome. I tried getting a friend of mine, Katie, to teach me, but she said it’s too hard, but I think she’s just lazy. And this one fight you had with Colossus, when you hit him with that five punch combo, swept his legs out from underneath him and went for the choke until he stopped was—”

“Why are you here?” I asked. It was the first thought that came to mind. The first words I could really attach any sense to, because she’d been watching me, cheering me on from home.

And I hadn’t even had it in me to so much as return her calls or read her messages.

“I was meeting up with some friends,” she said. “But talking to you is nice, too. Churro?”

I didn’t really know what else to say, to do, so I took it and bit into it, and… Heck, that thirty dollar price was starting to make sense as soon as it started melting doughy goodness in my mouth. Bianca watched me chew, and I swallowed a little too hard, damn near making myself choke. I beat my chest a little, cleared my throat. Were there crumbs on my face? On my costume? Shit. I didn’t shower this morning, I left the apartment as soon as Em goaded me into coming out.

“So,” I said, trying to break the silence. “Any new supervillains at your school?”

“I graduated about a month ago,” she said, which I knew. “Nothing so far. But I’ll probably see at least a few things when I go to university soon. I’m your eyes and ears down here, right?”

“Yeah. Totally.” What should I say? Should I talk about what happened? No, that’s stupid, not out in public where someone might be eavesdropping. Just get out of here. “Listen, I—”

Footsteps rapidly approached me from behind, shoes slapping against concrete. Bianca’s eyes widened and I turned around, bracing myself just as a cup of coffee was thrown right at me. It caught me off guard, because the only things usually getting thrown at me were chunks of pavement or human beings, and the coffee wasn’t even that hot either. But the splash was sudden, the bitter smell running down my throat and oozed into the folds of my costume as the wild-eyed woman standing in front of me started yelling and spitting names at me as her lukewarm coffee began soaking into my hair. She barked very pleasant things at me over and over again for everyone to hear like, murderer, killer, superhuman scum. Names I’d only heard on tv before.

I didn’t really know what to do as she yelled at me, far enough away so she could hurl her spit at me, too, and now the crowd was watching me. Some of them stood, clutching cups. Others backed away a little, seeing the electricity jumping between my fingers. But most were just humans, regular, plain-as-bread humans who were starting to feed off the woman’s energy and her chanting. Heck, a few joined in, shouting from afar. It got louder. More sporadic. More bitter.

Then someone threw a cup of coffee too close to Bianca for my liking. I swiped it out of the air, and this time the coffee was steaming hot. Nothing to my skin. Everything to the woman in front of me that it landed on. She stared at me, her rant paused, her face beat, puffy and red, and then came the rest of them, throwing food at me that splattered onto my costume and into my hair and painted my face with grease and ketchup and choking powdered sugar. I stepped backward, swiping them out of the air as much as I could, but Gods above, they just kept coming. Their sound was one loud screaming mess of swear words and threats, but nobody got any closer than throwing distance. I shielded Bianca as much as I could, arms spread, but I was starting to get pissed off, especially when the first woman elbowed her way forward and spat right on my face.

If I was any worse of a person, (which I wasn’t,) I would have stuck my fist through her.

“Enough!” I snapped, voice echoing. They flinched, stepping back. The police started making their way toward me. I breathed in and out, calming myself. “Let’s chill out, alright?”

“You killed people last night and yet you stand here like nothing happened!” the woman yelled. “You killed normal people, people who could have had families and friends and dreams!”

I nearly rolled my eyes at what she’d said, because I’d heard it all before, but I couldn't miss how she mentioned they were ‘normal people.’ I narrowed my eyes, looked at the rest of the angry faces surrounding us. Bianca was my main concern, because if they hurt her, then maybe being a supervillain in my books didn’t really mean having an evil lair or the ability to come back from the dead. Sometimes it was just a group of jerks who thought they could out-muscle me, and so help me Zeus if so much as one hair went out of place, I’d show them why the government hadn’t bothered coming after me yet. I was forced to eye several people nearing toward her, spitting names at her like ‘traitor’. Bianca, bless her, kept quiet about what she really was.

“If you’re talking about the goons from last night, then who cares? They were criminals.”

“She’s right!” someone added. “You only attacked her because she’s a superhuman.”

“Divergent Persons, not ‘superhuman’,” a girl argued. “But murder is fucking murder.”

“Oh, is that right?” I said. “So who cares if someone got killed by those goons last night? Or what if one of their cars slammed into a pedestrian. Oh, wait! They did kill someone last night.”

“See, if there were more superhumans around, then that wouldn’t have happened.”

“Yeah! More superheroes in the sky, like the good old days. When this country was great.”

“Does a fatality rate of 67% of crime and Divergent Persons interference sound great to you?” another guy argued. “It sure as hell doesn’t sound like a good thing for us humans.”

“We’re humans just as much as you are,” a young-ish girl said near the front. The leading woman’s face soured, stepped away from her, just like a few others in the crowd did, as if she had the plague. The girl shrank a little, more scared, but kept that brave face on as she stared her down.

“The day that any of the likes of you are human is the day Zeus comes back from the grave,” the woman said bitterly. “And thank the heavens he’s not as almighty as you think he is.”

“Keep talking to her like that and I’ll—”

“See?” the woman said, pointing at me. “It’s not just criminals. It’s normal people, too.”

“I wasn’t gonna hurt you,” I said, even though I really wanted to. “Because I don’t hurt people who don’t deserve it. I’m just saying that you should stop because I’m sure this is some kind of hate crime the way you’re talking to us”—I used ‘us’ very loosely—“so keep quiet.”

“Not a hate crime if you’re just pointing out the truth of what everyone knows you all are.”

Bianca’s fingers grazed my elbow, stopping me from saying something that would have put me in very hot water, like how useless they were. “Hey, I think the cops are gonna be here soon.”

“One sec,” I said over my shoulder. I couldn’t win this fight with my fists, but I also wasn’t going to let them throw food at me then shout at me and get away with it. “I saved you last night.”

“You’re a serial killer,” a guy in a suit spat. “Not a superhero. Not like your father was.”

“What the fuck did you just call me?”

“Alright, alright,” an officer said, having to force his way through the crowd. “Let’s all take a deep breath and stop shouting at each other for a second.” He looked at me, at the coffee, juice and tea dripping off me, then turned to his partner. “Get some cuffs on her and get her out of here.”

“Hold on a minute,” I said, hovering away. “You’re gonna arrest me? What did I even do?”

“That’s right,” the voice from before said. “These damned cops just want to arrest one of our own. She’s Olympia, genius, she’s not gonna let you lay a finger on her, let alone arrest her.”

“She should be arrested,” the leading woman said. “She’s a killer. A supervillain.”

You are very, very lucky that you’re just a civilian, lady.

Bianca’s fingers wrapped around my wrist, sending a jolt of electricity up my arm. “I know a way out of here,” she said quietly. “Or, you know, you could just pick me up and take us away.”

My heart leaped into my throat at that thought, but not now. Later. Another time. “Look,” I said to the pair of officers, one short, the other tall, both with heavy mustaches. “Let me go, and—”

One of them got a little closer, whispering, “Look, kid. You know I can’t do that. I’d get my ear bitten off if I let you go. Probably lose my job. Just put on the cuffs, for my sake at least.”

“And for them, too,” the shorter one said. “It’ll be a riot soon, and nobody wants that.”

I looked at the other cop, at the handcuffs he unclipped from his belt. The crowd was watching us now, staring at me because they knew what I was going to do from here on out would probably make some kind of difference to them. Right now, though, was the worst time to remember that I had a responsibility or whatever to the rest of the superhumans (or Divergent Persons? I didn’t really know until now about a politically correct term) around the world. Phones were out, pointing at me, and that would mean it would be all over social media in the next few minutes, around the globe and out of every news reporter and analyst’s mouths the next hour.

I tried to think about a time when dad was arrested, or when they had thrown the law at him or any of the Olympians for that matter, but I couldn't come up with anything. I was the last of a generation that wasn’t here anymore, a long ago dead generation, and that made me prime time to these people. Freaking box office. Gods, this was a lot more annoying than I first thought. I could fly off right now, Bianca in my arms because I knew these little animals… people, I meant, would rip her to shreds for being seen with me, so being high above the city, tight against my chest (just so she doesn't fall, nothing else) would be great, wouldn't it? Sightseeing with her, skimming the ocean, grabbing a bite as we sat on the edge of a building, then dropping her off at home like I did at prom. It was the easy way out.

But it would also mean having to look her in the eyes and explain myself. Tell her why both of us—both of me—had been ghosting her, not really paying attention to her anymore.

And that was a box of worms that neither Rylee nor Olympia was strong enough to open.

So fuck it. I’d deal with the blow back from the humans some other day. Maybe when I had the time to figure out why they were so stubborn, so insistent on me not killing the bad ones lurking around the good ones. For now, though, it would be easier to get this over with and go with the cops.

Plus Bianca was watching me, I could feel her eyes gazing at me from just over my shoulder. I had to be at least some kind of example, right?

I sighed, getting the annoyance out, and stuck my arms out toward the cops.