Friday, January 29
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Hell Friday was over.
My classes all had presentations or essays due, and Power Builds and Role Optimization had thrown a nasty pop quiz my way. I hadn’t expected it out of Dr. Mays. Mindstorm? Sure. But Mays seemed so relaxed most of the time. I thought I’d done well, but I couldn’t be sure. We were learning about synergies—which apparently were different from combos and involved power sets that worked smoothly together to do a specific job, like [Thunderhead] and [Ride the Lightning]. Except instead of two powers, it was the whole build.
Only a few supers did that. It was a fast track to being a one-trick pony, which meant getting countered by a clever rival. But I saw some potential in it. I had so many powers that I could optimize a single build as a silver bullet option and still cover other bases.
Building for Success’s substitute was finally rolling; sure enough, he was focused on superhero life's brand management and marketing aspects. There was a lot to learn there. Rocko had always covered that, but knowing what was going on could only help Bee and me out in dealing with the Ilneats. I missed Dr. Jackson, though. He was kind of boring.
Bee and I had been trying to learn about episode manipulation, playing down, and bringing our full power to lower-league Episodes without getting flagged. It felt scummy, but Mindstorm assured us that both heroes and villains did it all the time.
In all, it had truly been a Hell Friday. And there were only like 16 more this semester.
I couldn’t wait for May.
Still, we’d managed to escape campus just after Power Builds and Role Optimization. I found myself hanging out at the mall in a sporting goods store. I’d already bought all the sports bras and soccer shorts I needed, but Bianca was being all serious about getting the perfect indoor soccer shoes. I had a bad feeling that she’d be too competitive for the club soccer league.
She came out with a box featuring a red-and-white shoe that screamed speed. “This is the one. What’s next?”
“Book store?” I asked. I hadn’t been able to get the kid at Broken Binding Books out of my head, and the idea that a superhero had written—or ghost-written—a memoir or something was really exciting. It was one thing to watch Stella-Lunar on the screen, but to get inside her head and know what she was thinking? Most minor league heroes didn’t have that kind of opportunity—except after she kicked in their teeth.
“Sure, why not?” Bianca headed for the door. “Got something in mind, huh? That’s exciting!”
“Yeah. There’s a book that should be out, and I want to read it.”
“Got it.”
After a bit of searching, we found the Civic, and Bee threw it into gear. Broken Binding Books awaited!
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Bianca stopped outside the double spot, and I stared at the larger-than-life cardboard figures standing next to the door. A girl stared back. She couldn’t be older than thirteen, and her wide, beaming mouth only accentuated her joy-filled eyes. The undercut blonde hairstyle didn’t quite match her sun dress; she looked like the kind of kid who’d be happier in overalls and covered in dirt—a frog-catching girl.
Behind her loomed Golden Goose—almost realistic if you could believe her muscles and curves. She smiled just like the girl, but the grin didn’t reach her eyes. Something felt off in that cardboard figure. Like they’d gotten Golden Goose’s bloodlust and violent attitude perfect. I shivered and unbuckled my seatbelt.
If Golden Goose had written a memoir, why hadn’t anyone heard anything? This kind of thing would absolutely blow up; any publisher would be thrilled to have a scoop like it.
“Well, this is what you wanted, right?” Bianca asked. “I’m not sure how I feel about someone profiting from her death.”
“Yeah, I get that. I’m not sure I’m on board with that either.” I got out of the car. Bee followed me. “But I do want to read it.”
“Okay. Let’s do this. I’ll go explore the shelves. Text me when you’re ready to go home, and I’ll meet you at the check-out counter.”
I waved goodbye as Bianca dove into the crowd of people at the door, then followed her. Half of the people crowded into the maze of shelves weren’t there for the smiling girl and Golden Goose, but the half that were had inserted themselves in a blobby line halfway down the central aisle. I took my place at the back, staring at another cardboard cut-out of Golden Goose. The line inched forward slowly, one person at a time, until I could see the book’s title under Golden Goose’s muscular form: The Diary of Golden Goose: An Expose into the Dark Side of Superheroes.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
I shivered, but the high-school kid popped up next to me before I could think too much about it. “Hey, you did come back. I figured you might not, but I’m glad you did. The book’s selling like crazy. You interested?”
It weirded me out a little that he recognized me, but the boy seemed so earnest that I couldn’t help but nod. “I’ve been interested in superheroes since, like, thirteenish. The whole thing’s fascinating to me.”
“Okay. How about this? I’m awesome, and I work here, so I can grab you a copy without making you wait in line. I’ve been doing it for a lot of people to try to keep the line moving. There’s a meet-and-greet with one of the book’s editors, but that’s not the same as meeting the author. Unfortunately, that’s not an option for you.”
“Sure, that’d be great,” I said. As I stared at the smiling girl, I couldn’t help but wonder who she’d been. She looked carefree, like I’d been when I floated in a tube down the Winter River before the Style System grabbed me. What had her life been like? Who was she before she put on the mask? The book that boy was grabbing offered me a rare chance—one I’d only had twice—to get to know a superhero’s secret identity.
And not just any superhero. I’d get to see what Golden Goose herself had thought about her life. The scariest superhero, with a body count higher than most villains before her still-unsolved death—and I’d get to see behind the curtain. The world had gotten more dangerous after her death, but even so, this was the first time I’d thought about her as a person instead of…a force of nature.
Reading the diary crept up my priority list until I had to have it. I could hardly wait for the kid to come back. And the line kept creeping forward.
“Okay, got it. I’ll get you checked out,” the kid said. He’d appeared out of nowhere with the thin book in one hand.
I shook my head. “My girlfriend’s in here shopping for herself. I’ll collect her and then wait in line like everyone else.”
“Suit yourself. Oh, and thanks for swinging by Broken Binding Books.” He disappeared into the crowd to help someone else, and I tucked the book under my arm to find Bee. Now that I had it, the next step was getting out of here and back to Walnut Tower, where I could react to whatever was in it like a superhero instead of an Extra.
So, of course, I caught Bianca browsing the books on soccer.
“Hey, you ready?” I asked, even though I knew she wasn’t. The book was burning a metaphorical hole in my pocket, and I wanted to leave.
“No. We just got here. How did you get through the line so quickly?” Bee asked. She didn’t look my way. Her head was buried in a book on coaching strategies. I almost felt guilty for not thinking about soccer outside of my team’s practices.
“Uh, the kid working here got a copy for me, so I hardly had to wait at all.”
“Well, now you have to wait. I’m browsing.”
So I sat, and I stared at Bee as she painstakingly looked through Soccer for Dummies, checked out an autobiography by some soccer player who only went by one name, and slowly filled a basket with sports books. As I watched, I couldn’t help but realize that being a superhero had changed her life an awful lot. It wasn’t so bad for me; I’d been a kid, and it had been something new and exciting—plus, I got to do it with Peter.
But Bianca had had a whole high school experience without the mask. She’d developed into who she wanted to be—a sports star on her high school team, messy about a lot of stuff but the kind of person who recorded her classes, and so on. She’d had a girlfriend back home and everything. And then the Style System picked her.
And yeah, she had an awesome life with me, of course. But watching her dig into the sports shelves and thinking back to how hard she practiced for the yellow team, I realized that this was who Bee had been before.
So, after a minute of staring at her to make her feel awkward so she’d move, I decided to let her do her thing. Instead, I flipped The Diary of Golden Goose over and skimmed the back.
The explosive diary of the world’s most powerful superhero!
Golden Goose was a goddess even among superheroes. Her power level eclipsed every other super, and she ruled North America’s shows with an iron fist and no-nonsense attitude.
Now, for the first time, Toll Publishing brings you an edited, uncensored look into the life of Jasmine Saxton. In her own words, she describes the challenges and struggles of working with the Ilneat Studios as a star, her challenges keeping herself separate from the suit, and a detailed look into the last few months of her life.
The synopsis didn’t give much information, and I almost opened it up to start reading. But I couldn’t—not here. Instead, I stood up and joined Bee at the bookshelf. “Found anything good?”
“Yeah. The Yellowjackets need a coach, and they think I’m the best bet. We’re meeting tonight to talk about basic soccer strategy and maybe have a little drinky drink.” Bee gathered her half-dozen books and turned toward the busy check-out counter. “So, you’re just getting the one?”
“Yep.”
Check-out happened quickly; they had two people running registers and moved the dozens of people ahead of us through as fast as they could. All our books went into a plastic bag with a flying hardcover logo, and Bee led us back to her Civic.
“Okay, any other stops?” she asked.
“I don’t think so.” I was itching to dig into the book—it seemed like Golden Goose might have dealt with the same problems I was with Rocko, and even if she didn’t, I wanted to see what she was thinking. To get inside her mass-murdering head. Not because I thought I’d like what I found, but because the pressure of being the best had to change her in all sorts of ways.
Bee dropped me off at Walnut Tower with her books, then set off for the Student Union Building. I rode the elevator up, put some coffee on, and set Bee’s books on her shelf next to the school books she hadn’t cracked open all semester. Then, flopping onto my bed, I pulled out The Diary of Golden Goose.