Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Have you ever gotten the feeling that your life is nothing more than a massive joke and you're actually the universe's punching bag? That though you may be screaming and crying and sobbing on the floor, there was never going to be such a thing as 'going too far'? I often felt like I wasn't that different from a protagonist in a sitcom, in that they were so horrible and awful to everyone around them, that the audience didn't mind when bad things happened to them. That they could continue to laugh and delight in the protagonist's misery without feeling guilty over it, because they had it coming by being terrible people.

And while we're here, have you ever gotten that feeling that fate takes your misery as a challenge? You could be walking down the street, minding your own business, when boom! everything suddenly hits you. No warnings. No signs. Just bam! Here's some problems. And when you cry and reach out for some help, fate is like, 'hold my beer' so it can throw something even worse at you.

"Helga!"

Granted, in my case, that something worse was very . . . particular.

"What on earth are you doing?!"

And I think I now had a problem.

That problem being me hiding behind a bush, squeezed in a tight ball, in an attempt to escape the eight–foot fucking tall monster currently hunting for me. Said monster had been peering beneath a park bench for the dumb teenage dressed like a Victoria's secret model when Nel had said that. And now, the monster was looking up to follow her line of sight. Stupid coward had been tucked away in a tree where she could watch from a safe distance. Her watching eventually led the monster to spotting me and when it did, it let out a hoarse growl as its eyes narrowed into a glare.

Uh oh.

It barely even turned around before I had leapt to my feet and sprinted. I had my lips pressed together to contain the scream. Not just because an ugly creature wanted to eat me, but because the actions had been so fast and I still wasn't used to being able to move like this. It was all so fluid; it was like I was flying across the ground. That must have come with the package deal—super speed. And dexterity, or whatever caused you to run like you were a vampire in a Twilight movie.

Yeah, I had superpowers. Cool, right? Which I guess made me a superhero—sorta. You could see how that was currently working out for me. Turns out being a superhero was really hard. Especially when you had been offered the gig a few minutes ago and prior to this, the closest you had come to being in a fight in recent memory were those doors labelled pull and yet, for some reason, your mind interprets it as push.

Now you might be thinking: Helga. Duh. Of course being a superhero wouldn't be easy. Who wouldn't think that when entire movie franchises and shows and comics were dedicated to proving that exact point? It wasn't like the main characters were just handed their powers so they could skip off to their happily ever after with their love interest. And yeah, when you put it that way, it sounded stupid. But nobody told me it was going to be like this.

Footsteps were approaching me. I tried to keep my mouth in that tight line, but then, there came that growl and—

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"

Here comes my scream.

Looking back, this wasn't the smartest decision I had made. And I'm sure that Nel was thinking that to herself as well. I didn't need my enhanced hearing to know that she was smacking her forehead right now. Which quite frankly would've been a sight to behold. You know, Nel being a cat and all . . . not that a cat face–palming was the most shocking and devasting thing I had witnessed today.

I was, after all, running away from an eight–foot tall alien while dressed in nothing but a leotard and heels. Would you believe that this is actually a love story?

Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? This probably wasn't the best place to start my story. Well, you know what they say: nothing beats the smell of a brutal mistake on a Monday. Something, I was realising, I was quite good at.

Okay.

Let's try this again. From the actual start this time.

So let's see, it all began—

Chapter Text

—on a Monday morning.

Plot twist, I know. Not like I didn't already admit that in the previous chapter.

But oh, what a glorious and breathtaking Monday it was. The sun's rays pierced between the cracks in the blinds hanging above my windows. Birds were chirping and the sound made my heart rush in delight. Despite yesterday's terribly dreary day, accompanied with sheets of rain and dark clouds, today seemed like it was going to be awfully—

Oh, fuck it. Who was I kidding? No one actually thought mornings were gorgeous. Much less Monday mornings.

The sunlight was practically blinding even though my eyes were closed. It was doing that annoying thing where it speared between your eyelids so unless you had an eye mask, you were unable to escape the reality: it was morning. Which meant, sleep time was over. I would have to get up soon and succumb to the fate which was heading out to endure another day of school.

Still, doesn't mean I couldn't rebel in my own ways.

Turning on my side, I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to fall back asleep. Yeah, I know, it was pointless. But a girl could dream, couldn't she? Which was exactly what I was trying to do. There was still some fog left over in my mind and I was trying to fall back into it again. The dream I'd been having was pretty sweet and I wanted to finish it. I won't go into detail over what it was about, but I will say that it was the type of dream that left you kissing you fingers and shouting, "Fantastique!"

But just as I could feel myself slipping back into that unconscious state, a sharp knocking echoed from my bedroom door.

I frowned.

There was a voice. It was disgustingly perky and singing that I needed to wake up. I groaned. I didn't need to look or open the door to know that it was her. And I didn't, in fact. Open the door, that is. I was still in my rebellious state of mind and I wasn't about to throw away my efforts for her. Not that I needed to. Because as expected, she barged right in without even waiting for a reply. I could feel her cheerful smile plastered across her perfectly perfect face as she looked down at me.

Grumbling, I turned back to the window—I'd much prefer the sun's perkiness to my sister's.

"Baby sis, it's time to get up!"

Ugh.

I despise that cheery tone. I actually had to restrain myself from barfing (no I didn't, but you get what I mean). She was oblivious to my exasperation—she always was—and her footsteps crept closer. There was some shuffling to my left and then suddenly a bright explosion as sunlight filled my room and hit my face.

"You idiot!" I roared, drawing back. My hands flew to my face and attempted to shield my poor, innocent eyes from the heinous sun's glare. Turning onto my other side, I pulled the covers over my head and curled up in a small ball.

Olga giggled ( giggled. Who does that on a Monday morning?). "You need to get up some time."

Ugh. Her smile was so penetrative that I could feel it through the blankets, pillows and my eyelids.

"I know," I said, although beneath all the layers, I wasn't sure how clear she could hear it. "And I will— on my own. I don't need you."

"I know," she said. "But it never hurts to have a little help!"

Right. She only says that because she sees herself as so important that without her, I would be an inconsolable mess.

"I mean, if I wasn't here then I—I don't know what would happen! I know how easy it is for you to find yourself in trouble and I would hate to turn around just to find you as an inconsolable mess!"

See?

"Now, c'mon. The bus'll be here soon!"

Oh, what a lie. Olga knew that Pete—the bus driver—was slower than a snail slithering through peanut butter. I blamed his old age—the elderly were so slow these days. I still was waiting for the day where we got a newer and faster driver. One who was cool and actually picked me up from my house instead of making me walk down the street.

. . . still, as much as I loathed to admit it, Olga wasn't entirely incorrect. Not presently anyway. It wasn't unknown for me to sleep in and arrive later than Pete. And the sly bastard took too much pleasure in making me run down the street after him.

I should probably get up.

Ugh, whatever.

I opened my eyes—

When the morning light hit me. I hissed, drawing an elbow across my face. Ugh. Nothing was uglier and more unnecessary than the morning. I shook my head to force any remaining glimpses of the dream away from my mind, then heaved my eyes back open.

The first thing I registered was Olga. She stood at the foot of my bed with her hair pulled back into a braid so intricate that it would've had Daenerys Targaryen crying. Her hands were on her hips and of course, she had that dumb smile on her face. I shuddered. Did she have to be so cheery about everything?

Propping up onto my elbows, I rubbed my eyes then pinched my nose. "Olga—pray tell—what time is it?"

She peered down at her watch (a gift from her boyfriend, whatever his name was).

"Mm, 7:20?"

My eyes widened.

"7:20?!" I shot up and looked straight into her eyes. She slightly drew back with a sheepish smile. "Did you just say 7:20?!"

"Um, yes?"

"CRIMINY!"

Leaping from my bed, I stumbled across my room to snatch the crumbled pieces of my uniform from last week. Yeah, uniform—mandatory for our high school. The school wasn't private or anything. It just thought it was a lot more important than what it actually was.

The girls were made to wear a white, button–down shirt with a crisp collar. The skirt was pleated with a tartan pattern, a mix of navy blue and crimson, and it was an absolute requirement that the hem reached our knees. Anything shorter would earn you weeks long detentions until you hemmed or replaced it (they could have avoided the problem altogether by allowing us to wear pants all year round, rather than just winter. But hey, gender roles became a lot harder to apotheosize when you didn't force your students to conform to them). With this we were required to wear black socks, brown buckled shoes, a crimson tie and a matching blazer with the school crest emblazoned on the left breast pocket.

"Christ—Olga, why didn't you wake me up earlier?!"

Which no, was not an admittance that I needed her (I got by quite well on my own, thank you). It was a reestablishment that I didn't need her, actually. Because what was the point in having her if she couldn't even do this one thing correctly?

She tilted her face. "Sorry, I thought you were gonna get up earlier . . ."

I gave her a baffled look. "Since when do I ever wake up earlier?" I then shook my head before she could answer. "Oh, who cares? I only have a few minutes to get ready and down the street. I don't have time to argue with you!"

Said older sister responded with a wink then headed for the door.

"Don't worry, little sis, I already packed your lunch for yo—"

I slammed the door in her face and began shedding my pyjamas. My sweatpants and shirt joined the layers of clothes on the floor as I shimmied into my skirt. But when I pulled on my button–down, I realised that I'd forgotten to wash it. How did I realise it? There was a chocolate stain on the right breast. I face–palmed. I would have to keep my blazer on throughout the day so people wouldn't see. Stupid fucking ice cream—

Whatever. There wasn't anything I could do about the stain until I got back. I reached for my brush on my vanity and yanked it through my hair to get it into something more tolerable. Tying it in its usual two ponytails, I scanned my face in the mirror before deciding that my eyebrows were acceptable for the day. Yeah, I got that under control. It took a while but eventually, I got tired of looking in the mirror and seeing his face staring back. So I had grabbed some tweezers and plucked away until they were a suitable shape. Far from the crummiest decision I had made, considering they actually suited my face now.

I spotted my black hoodie—an old, but stable part of my wardrobe. It was so ancient that the elbows had almost been worn through completely—and shoved it on. It never failed to aggravate my teachers, but it wasn't going anywhere. It kept me warm and made me feel protected. I threw my blazer on then pulled the hoodie out from the collar, applied some deodorant and raced out the door while attempting to pull a sock onto my foot. I hadn't realised that I'd been approaching the stairs until I lost my balance and—

Smack!

Thunk!

CRASH!

—fell down the stairs.

"Criminy!" I roared while rubbing my ass. It hurt like a bitch but I didn't have time to whine about it right now. So climbing to my feet, I pulled on my sock and limped to the kitchen. My gaze swept over the couch against the wall to Olga.

"Olga! Why didn't you wake me earlier?"

Not that I needed her to.

"Shh!" she responded by jamming a finger to her mouth, glancing at the couch then meeting my gaze again.

My jaw clenched.

I didn't have to look to know that she was gesturing to Miriam. Probably passed out in yesterday's clothes, clutching one of her smoothies.

Olga obviously had no idea how much that still happened. How uneventful that sight was in the morning. That, or she had forgotten. She had moved out, after all. Gotten her own place at her prestige university. She had done it a few years ago but Miriam had kept her old room exactly the same since. It was weird, because that woman barely even cleaned herself, but somehow, found the effort to keep everything in perfect place, like she was still waiting for Olga to turn around and come back. I suppose it was another reason why I was so unflinching by her passing out. It had only increased its happening since Olga left.

When Olga had randomly showed up on the doorstep, mascara running down her face, Miriam practically tore the door down to welcome her. Her and Bob took her back with open arms, going on about how it wasn't a bother and she was fine if she wanted to move back in. Olga rebutted that it was only temporary; she just needed a few days to clear her head. From what, I had no idea. Nor did I care, for that matter.

I snatched the bag— my bag—from Olga's hand and marched for the front door. I didn't spare a glance towards the passed out woman, nor did I acknowledge Olga's hushed protests.

I swung the door shut behind me.

Outside, the air crackled against my skin. I dipped my face back and took in a breath. Ran a hand through my hair. Everything was still crispy from last night's rain. I could feel it prickling down my neck. Sucking in another breath, I worked to unclench my jaw. That always happened whenever I was in there—the house. I became rigid like I'd been holding my breath the entire time. I never could relax unless I had buried myself in my room.

Tapping my fingers against the railing a few times, I finally began climbing down the steps—

When something whooshed past me, a yellow blur whizzing down the road.

The air that trailed behind hit me like a wall and, stunned, I was left blinking—once, twice, thrice.

Was that . . .

Looking in the direction that it had gone, I realised that yes, that yellow blur had been the—

Oh my God, that's the school bus!

I bolted down the street in its direction, heart pounding. Embarrassingly, I waved my hands in the air in some desperate hope that Pete would recognise the wild–looking teenager in his rear–view mirror. He apparently didn't (he did. He just hated me) and the bus turned at the end of the street.

Rounding that same corner, I gripped the speed sign and sharply turned. Swinging around, for a split second, my gaze locked with a pair of bright purple eyes.

Wait.

Purple eyes?

This was a good time to bring up last night's rain. Because not only did it mean that the air was still slightly chilly but that the pavement was also still wet. So within a few seconds, I had slid and was flat on my back with a throbbing ankle.

"Ah—fuck!"

I know, ladylike.

Hissing some more curses, I slowly sat up to a burning in my palms and that painful stinging in my scalp.

Okay. So not the smartest of my ideas (I'm beginning to suspect that those were rare occurrences).

Rubbing my ankle, I found myself seeking out those eyes again. I located them across the street and blinked. Those eyes—glimmering orbs reminiscent of amethysts—belonged to a small black cat.

It was perched on the roof of a car with its tail swishing sharp behind it. The feline blinked owlishly at me and I drew back. The creepy thing barely moved and stared so hard that it felt like a hole was beginning to burn straight through me. Somehow, I got the feeling that I was being judged.

By a cat. What the fu—

A honking noise blared from down the street. I jumped and looked over my shoulder. Apparently, the bus had decided to stop more than half–way down the street. Anger flushed my cheeks. That dumb old fart knew that I'd been running and had only now decided to stop and wait?

I got to my feet and dusted myself of anything I may have acquired from that little fiasco. My face was still hot and I knew that it wasn't entirely due to the anger. I hummed a little tune to myself as I walked down the street. But I couldn't resist looking over my shoulder at the cat. It hadn't moved. Its big, scary eyes were still on me.

I shuddered. Creepy.

My heart was practically throbbing when I approached the doors. I could feel the stares pushing into me from the windows, but I kept my attention trained ahead. Kept those lyrics in my mind. I'm the type of girl who likes taking the lead, I don't give a fuck what they say about me. When the doors shuddered open, the silence hit me like bricks. And so did the realisation that maybe I give some fucks about what they say about me. Not that anyone was saying anything. But that kinda made it worse. Because when everyone was looking at you but not saying anything, it allowed for your mind to run wild with accusations.

Did you see her, Helga Pataki, falling over like a complete klutz? Running around like a loser? God, what an ugly weirdo. No wonder her grades are what they are. You think with how much time she spends reading, she'd have a little more going up there.

Yeah, my mind wasn't exactly the friendliest of places.

I lowered my gaze to my feet and hurried down the aisle. My back burned beneath the annoyed looks thrown my way and I quickly sunk low in my seat. The closest free one I could spy. I didn't look up until the glares had lightened and the bus sprang back to life.

I pulled my hoodie up and slumped further down into my seat. Lips screwed tightly shut as if to keep my heart from falling out, I tangled my fingers with my sleeves. The burning still shone from my cheeks and instinctively, my eyes sought out and found that familiar sight. He was chatting animatedly to his best friend. About what, I had no idea. But it didn't matter. Because it was a sight that managed to relax the tension in my chest. Something thundered in my ears as a sigh worked to push itself from my mouth. As usual, his back was turned in my direction and he was oblivious to my existence.

Arnold.

Criminy. Please end me.

I turned and feigned looking out the window while secretly watching him from the corner of my eye.

Ugh.

If there wasn't a more handsome boy.

His hair was still messy and stuck out at awkward angles from his beautifully shaped head. But some strands hung above his eyes. I loved those strands. It was a past time of mine to imagine myself sinking my nails into them, moving forward until our chests were pressed together and I—

Ahem.

Anyway.

A benefit to the school uniforms was that it forced Arnold to ditch those awful flannels and instead wear proper and buttoned up shirts.

The boy's uniform was kept similar to the girls. They wore pants, of course. And instead of a tartan pattern, their pants were made from a simple grey material—another thing I envied. Their uniform didn't make them look like dorks. Or fetishes you would find in online forums (one of the many joys of being a girl, I guess). Arnold looked good in his—the uniform, that is. He looked great, in fact.

Like usual, he wasn't wearing his blazer. Just his shirt today and he had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I loved when he did that. It allowed for me to appreciate the ruggedness of his arms. Another weakness of mine: his arms. Arnold hadn't stopped meeting up with his friends on the weekends to play sport which in turn, had graced him with some muscles. Nothing crazy that made you think he was on steroids, but a nice definition that never failed to drive me crazy. That, and his eyes. Those sparkling orbs that sent me crashing into my deepest, amorous fantasies.

Stupid hormones.

Well.

Okay, I couldn't entirely blame the hormones here. Some of this was me (most of it was, if I was being honest). I'd been in love with the guy since pre–school. Could I really blame these sensations that I had only gotten a few years ago? When I was nine, I dedicated a shrine to him. Made from his own gum!

Yeah, I know. I was obsessed. And it was embarrassing. But you had to give me props for that perseverance. That had not been easy.

In my defence, I had tried getting over him. Really, really tried. I got rid of the shrine, threw away the poetry and cut the very small amount of contact I had with him. But alas, it appeared that one didn't need frequent social contact to fall in love with Arnold Shortman. No, one does not need to speak with such a fair spirit to know that he only utters the finest of words. One does not even need to look to see how absolutely and breathtakingly beautiful he is. No, Arnoldo was so perfect that simply cutting ties with him could never cease the infatuation felt for someone so exquisite.

So, in short, no. I had not gotten over him.

Arnold was, frankly, too good a human to simply 'get over'. Anyone who wasn't aware was, in my books, a weirdo and furthermore—

Screeeeeeeeeech!

My head flew forward until I had collided with a thump! into the bar in front of me. I groaned, feeling a headache forming. God, how many times could a girl get knocked around? It wasn't even eight yet!

An angry buzz of voices grew, asserting their annoyance at the sudden halt the bus had taken.

Can't say I blamed them.

Rubbing my forehead, I looked out the windows. What could possibly be so important that—

Ah.

Right.

We were stopped outside Lila Sawyer's place.

I cast a dirty look to the back of Pete's balding head. Sure, he had no problem stopping outside of little Miss Perfect's place, but mine? 'Simply unnecessary, Ms. Pataki.'

My blood was boiling when the doors shuddered open and said perfect specimen stepped—nay, glided up the steps. Cheeks turning a delicate pink, Lila avoided our looks and breezed down the aisle. And of course, she looked utterly fantastic doing it.

Which brings me to another thing I hated about her: she was hot. I hated to admit it, but Lila had only become more beautiful as time passed. She had been cute as a kid, but the years had stripped her of any baby fat and graced her with slender curves. Since entering high school, Lila had ditched the braids and let her fiery hair flutter around her shoulders like she was in a Lord of the Rings movie. Was it a surprise that most of the male populace at school was totally and head over heels in love with her?

Speaking of—

My heart lurched when Arnold straightened in his seat. He had been talking to Gerald about something when her honey–toned gaze had swept over him and now, he watched her with a look that reminded me of a puppy.

Gerald, in response, face–palmed.

"Lila," Arnold breathed like he was in the presence of an angel.

At the sound of her name, Lila's eyes flickered to Arnold before she quickly turned away. Her lips had slightly dipped when she found an available seat and scurried for it. I muffled a groan, realising that it was across from me. The bus was tiny so when she passed me, I caught a whiff of her perfume—dainty and floral. Exactly what you'd expect.

Her hands tied in her lap as she forced herself to look out the window. Of course, she looked a lot better than when I did it. She didn't slouch like she didn't want to be there. Her back stayed straight and her shoulders were pushed back. It really was like watching a princess from a fantasy movie.

My stomach sunk when Arnold's face fell and his shoulders dropped at Lila's rejection.

Swallowing, I turned back to the window, determined to ignore whatever was going on. But I could still see their reflections and even catch their conversation.

"C'mon, Arnold," Gerald sighed, turning to his best friend. "It's been six years, man. Six years. You've gotta let it go."

"I know, Gerald," Arnold grumbled, eyes still downcast. "It's just . . . hard, y'know? It's been six years and . . . but it's hard to let a girl like her go. It's Lila for God's sake—she's perfect."

His words burned my ears.

Perfect.

Right.

Lila, she was perfect. Everything seemed to come so easily to that girl. She was beautiful, smart, kind and talented. Was it a surprise that the boys completely infatuated with her included Arnold? He probably had fallen for her before the rest of them had. Of course he would. And of all her impossible feats, the most impressive was that she had earned his heart. She had earned his heart and it had been without trying.

Swallowing, I dug through my bag to pull out my phone. Popping in my earphones, I scrolled through my selection until I found something sad–sounding. When one caught my interest, I rested my head back and shut my eyes.

When you were here before
Couldn't look you in the eye
You're just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry

I wanted to cry. These lyrics were hitting spots that I never talked to anyone about. Well, not like I talked to anyone these days.

You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so fucking special

Placing my elbows on the bar, I buried my head into my folded arms.

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong her—

I gritted my teeth, sitting up with a small huff. This was supposed to be helpingme, not making it worse. I pressed skip and sat my head back atop of my folded arms.

Na na na na na na na na na na na na,
Na na na na na na na na na na na na,

The corners of my mouth tilted up, and my foot began to tap to the rhythm. Finally,a song I could relate to without feeling depressed.

I guess I just lost my husband,
I don't know where he went,
So I'm gonna drink my money,
I'm not gonna pay his rent (nope),
I got a brand new attitude and
I'm gonna wear it tonight,
I wanna get in trouble,
I wanna start a fight

When we finally reached the school, I could finally release that breath.

It had been downright agonising listening to Arnold go on and on about Lila. Gerald had been nodding along with a glazed look in his eye. And from across the aisle, Lila appeared uncomfortable, like she could hear exactly what I could. She knew that she had been the hot topic of discussion the entire trip.

Woe was her.

Yeah, I know, I was being unfair. She didn't even seem interested in him. But I couldn't help the jealousy I felt whenever Arnold glanced over his shoulder at her. He looked so in love, it was almost pathetic. And it was always with that look as well, the look that he always had when he liked a girl. The lines in his forehead would disappear and his mouth would part. His eyes would well up with stars as he searched their features. It was like he was trying to capture something, I still wasn't sure what. But the look would always make something wiggle in my stomach, until I remembered that it was never for me. Always someone else, he would look at them like he was an artist trying to learn and understand their beauty before replicating it on a canvas.

I should be happy that Lila didn't return his feelings, but I somehow always hated her for it. Any girl would kill to be in her position, but here she was, throwing away his interest like it was nothing. If Arnold wasn't good enough for her, then what guy was?

The bus came to a stop and I jumped to my feet. My actions were mirrored by Lila who quickly dashed down the aisle before I could even reach for my bag. She ignored Arnold's attempt to talk with her and left without a word. My heart dropped at the crestfallen look on his face and Gerald sympathetically patted him on the back.

Shaking my head, I pulled on my bag and made my way down the aisle. Music was still blasting in my ears so I didn't hear how close the voices were becoming. I was half way down the aisle when out of nowhere, a bag clocked me straight in the nose. I yelped and held onto my aching nose ( seriously, what was with my luck this morning? How many times was the universe going to keep throwing punches?).

"Oh, shi—I'm sorry!"

I froze when I recognised that voice.

A hand went to my shoulder and my eyes locked with his.

Green against blue.

My hoodie had fallen so his eyes were able to move across my features without restraint. Something dawned across his face, I wasn't sure what. But it made his smile shrink, lips parting. Sunlight was soaking into my skin. I couldn't run and hide. Neither could he. There was no hiding who he had run into, who he was still holding.

Sparks flew from his touch until my knees were weak and buckling beneath my weight. It had been so long since I had been this close to him. I hadn't realised how much he had grown. I barely even reached his chin while he had to slightly bend to hold onto my shoulder.

Speaking of—

His eyes moved to his hand like he couldn't believe what he had done. I couldn't either. His eyes moved back to mine and a warmth jammed into my heart. I found it hard to speak. I should be pulling away before this got even more awkward, but I couldn't help admiring his face.

He was handsome like a movie star. The sort of beauty that was cool and effortless. His skin was smooth and his freckles glowed like stars. The hair he had been attempting to tame still flopped across his forehead. My fingers twitched with that instinct to brush them away.

But thankfully, common sense kicked back in.

Clearing my throat, I forced my face back into its signature scowl and slapped his hand away. He held his palms up, signifying that he meant no harm. I tried not to wilt at that. He looked at me like I were an animal he had failed to tame.

Not that I could blame him. This was what I wanted after all.

"Watch where you're swinging that thing, football head!" I barked then elbowed past him. I ignored the thrill that shot through me at the nickname. I hadn't gotten to use it in years. This had been our first time interacting since before high school. But it was easy to fall back into old habits. Easy to pretend that his presence had no affect on me.

My fists were swinging as I stalked down the aisle. The scowl on my face must have been powerful because people jumped out of my way without argument. My chest had formed into a bunch of knots that didn't come close to relaxing until I had stepped off the bus.

I sucked in a breath that didn't do anything but could still feel a pair of eyes burning holes into my back. I scurried for the gates and didn't slow until I was on the school grounds when the eyes must have turned away. I had my bag straps gripped so tight that my knuckles had begun to cramp. Butterflies were swarming my stomach as I marched down the hallways.

I released my hold to pull my hoodie back over my head so people wouldn't see the water that was blurring my sight. Pressing my forehead against my locker, I shut my eyes and ignored the buzzing chatter. Pretended that I was one of the shadows dancing along the walls. My heart throbbed from the look on Arnold's face. He had looked at Lila like she was divine, while when he had looked at me . . .

Breathing through my nose, I tried shaking those images from my mind. But I couldn't. I could only think how much Arnold loved Lila, and how much he had forgotten about me.

Well, who's fault is that?

Right.

It's not like Arnold had ever really liked me. Not really. He was one of those guys who could get along with anyone and always handed out chances for people to redeem themselves. But even he had his limits. Not his fault that I had forced him into his. I used to be so cruel to him and punished him for how I felt. And now, he barely looked at me. Forgot I even existed. Suppose this was what happened when you bullied someone you were crushing on. Turns out, guys didn't love getting shoved against lockers and having spit balls thrown at them. It pushed them into hating you, which he did. He hated me. It made sense why he would go for someone like Lila instead. The girl who oozed kindness and always spoke gently with people. She was my opposite.

And as much as I hated her for it, I couldn't exactly blame him. The girl had a way with words, she could probably talk Darth fucking Vader into leaving the dark side.

It was so annoying.

Little Miss Perfect.

A hand suddenly slammed inches from my face into the locker and I jumped back in surprise. My fingers flew to my chest as I spun around to the smiling face of my best friend.

"Pheebs!" My heart was racing at an agonising rate.

Said best friend grinned at me without the slightest bit of regret. "Affirmative."

"Don't do that!"

"Sorry," she shrugged. "But alas, I couldn't resist."

I glared at her.

Right, Phoebe Heyerdahl—she was my best friend. Wouldn't blame you for not realising it, giving her usual greetings involved sneaking up on me to scare the total shit out of me. I don't know why, she just got a kick out of it (maybe, she was secretly a sadist?). Anyway, Pheebs here? Total genius. Seriously. She was a whiz when it came to . . . everything really. It was honestly quite rare to find a topic that she didn't seem to know everything about.

(Except for posing for photos. Unlike the rest of our generation, Phoebe had never gotten into the whole taking photos of yourself thing. She could never relax long enough. Every photo I had ever gotten of Phoebe, it looked like she was in the middle of saying something, or sneezing. Even when she was smiling, something still looked wrong. Not that I was exactly model material myself, but Phoebe and posing went together like oil and water).

So when she leaned against the locker next to me, I began rummaging through my own locker to grab the books that I needed. I let the silence hang for a while before—

"Take any groovy photos lately?"

"Shut up."

I bit back a smirk. See what I mean?

"No, really. I think you've got a real career ahead of you," I continued, hugging the books to my chest then facing her. "They're always looking for new ghosts to haunt Mario's castle."

Phoebe's eyes widened, shooting straight into mine.

"When are you going to stop—" she crossed her arms. "—bringing that up?"

Okay, let me explain: a couple of years ago, Phoebe and her maths team had won a major competition. I forgot what it had been called, but their winning was a massive deal cause our school never really won anything. The school newspaper showed up—no surprise there—but so did the city newspaper. The photo that the school grabbed was decent, but the city photo? It made Phoebe look like a Boo from the Mario games. I'm not sure how they managed to do it, whether it was down to a clunkier photographer, or if it was entirely on Phoebe's nerves. But in her attempt to overcome her less than stellar history with posing, she had pushed herself forward and forced whatever happy emotion she could onto her face. The end result was . . . a furrowed brow, a too wide smile and her accidentally pushing her tongue out too much.

I, as her best friend, obviously found this hilarious and had cut the photo out to keep in my locker. Of course, I was proud of her for her accomplishment, but come on. She looked like a Boo from the Mario games. That's objectively funny!

It was especially weird because Phoebe was actually a very pretty girl. She just couldn't relax when the camera was on her.

And sure, maybe I should have had more sympathy for her—it had, after all, happened a few years ago—but every time I brought it up, it never failed to get this exact reaction. That arrogance filling her eyes would fade, and her stare would move from me to the people around us, then back to me. Like she was afraid that bringing it up would make people more aware, as if they didn't all still get newspapers. The look she gave me was somewhere between a glare and an indignant pout. It never failed to make me burst out laughing. I swear, she was three seconds away from stamping her foot.

"When it stops being funny!" I managed to get out through my guffaws.

She merely pressed her lips together, making dimples appear in her cheeks. She knew that her expression was only going to egg me on. So, shaking her head, she chose to stay quiet until I settled down.

Which wasn't happening anytime soon. I had to press my hands into my stomach as if that was going to keep the laughter from coming. This was just something that happened when I was around Phoebe: my misery faded like it had been nothing but a mirage.

"You're hilarious, H."

"I know, I've been thinking of going into stand up."

"Please do," she got out. "You can never have too many tomatoes."

I merely stuck my tongue out her.

Grump.

The laughter had been fading until she shot her 'I'm not amused' look. Then, I could feel it moving back up my chest like it were vomit (not a great image, but you get the point). It was something that I appreciated about Phoebe. She made everything seem so far away.

Phoebe was still shaking her head, but her mouth was moving into that familiar grin. I smirked. I knew she couldn't stay angry at me for long. She looked like she wanted to say something when a high–pitched scream pierced the air.

Our eyes went in the direction of the sound, and I almost groaned when I realised that it had come from the cheerleader corner.

Specifically, Rhonda Wellington Lloyd.

She was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. She had a grin that threatened to split her face as she shook her fingers like she was having an exorcism. I briefly wondered if someone had told her that flannels really were back in this season, but she looked too happy for it to be that. And her friends seemed equally as happy for her. They were all surrounding Rhonda and some guy, who looked slightly sheepish to be receiving so much attention. Rhonda laughed then threw her arms around his neck, pushing her chest against his and resting her chin on his shoulder.

Rhonda was a loud mouth so Pheebs and I were far from the only ones staring at them. The entire hallway was their audience, and some whispers were floating around as people pondered on what had caused Rhonda to scream. I rolled my eyes because it was Rhonda. Did the girl really need a reason to make everything about herself? Although, if I had to guess, she probably just found herself a date for the prom at the end of the year.

I made a face, shutting my locker, then bumped my hip against Phoebe's. "Cheerleaders, right?"

She nodded with a giggle. "It's about time Nick asked her. I was worried for a moment."

That sentence should have been sarcastic. But surprisingly, it was not.

I rose a brow. "Er, why?"

But then she smirked and everything made sense again.

"I had a bet going with Nadine," she explained, rubbing her hands like a supervillain. "If he hadn't asked by the end of the month, I would have to pay up—now, I'm twenty dollars richer."

Ah.

I nodded.

Nadine and Phoebe had gotten close since high school, when they kept finding themselves in the same extracurriculars. They were both nerds so it made sense. This year, Phoebe's mum had somehow managed to talk the school into letting her daughter attend three different clubs this year. Biology, physics and . . . I forgot the other one. But it was totally too much. Especially since those clubs basically just existed to give out students more homework than train them into becoming trophies for the school to brag about. But hey, what did I know?

The bell then rang and like that, came the end of our socialising.

I, like the good sport that I was, groaned and pressed myself into my locker. I ignored the sound that it made and the amusement shining in Phoebe's eyes. I knew what she was thinking— Helga can be so dramatic. Which was false, I wasn't dramatic, not ever. But briefly, I did wonder how long it would take to organise a protest—Teenagers Against Their Biology Classes—and whether I could do it in under three minutes.

"I've got double bio."

And I did not like bio.

Phoebe knew this and gave me a sympathetic look.

"Good luck, H," she said, despite personally enjoying biology.

"Thanks. You too."

I said that because she had double English. She did really well in the class, but she did not enjoy it. You see, Pheebs preferred classes that had a formula to fall back onto, whereas, English was all about creativity and sometimes just feeling things. Not her forte. But she was determined to keep her report card happy and consistent. So she pressed on while grumbling to herself about it remaining mandatory for all students. The only class she hated more was Theatre studies, which also had been mandatory for our first year. I don't think I needed to explain why Theatre and Phoebe were not an ideal match.

Anyway, Pheebs and I exchanged another smile then bid our goodbyes.

I heard Rhonda giggling when I passed her. I didn't know if it was me that she was laughing about, or someone else she had chosen to make her target. Not that it mattered. I'm sure she would find something to laugh about sometime today. We didn't really speak nowadays, but we did send each other nasty and offensive looks when we could. She didn't scare me. But man, did her whispering to her friends make the day go so much longer.

And we shared two classes today.

I groaned and prayed that rest of the day would turn out better.

It did not.

In the slightest.

Turns out that my next class was algebra, not biology. Third period was biology. How the hell did I mix those two up?

Either way, I ended up barging into a class full of seniors. When it was silent. Humiliating. I wanted to shrivel up and die. I was forced to run across the school for my actual class. There was still a slight panging in my ankle from this morning, so I arrived later than it should've taken me.

Mrs. Brown was not pleased (but to be fair, when was she ever?). She didn't bother listening to my explanation and proceeded to let the entire class know how unhappy she was with my tardiness. The anger burned in my face and clogged my throat. I shouldn't have, but my eyes wandered during her lecture. Lila and Arnold were sitting together. It felt like someone had dropped a stone in my chest. I turned my gaze away before it looked like I was watching them and glared down at my shoes. For fuck's sake, why couldn't he sit with Gerald today?

When Mrs. Brown finally finished, I settled into my usual seat next to the window. My fingers were shaking so it was hard to jot much down. Not that I took notes that often. Mrs. Brown and I? Not a match, if you couldn't tell. I didn't like her and she didn't like me. And that unlikeness made it difficult to even pretend that I cared for Algebra. So I did what I normally did and looked out the window.

The classroom overlooked the school field. Wide and bare save for the wooden posts meant for students to play football. Clouds were floating across the sky; not thick enough to suggest that it was going to rain, but frequent enough to hide the sun every few seconds. I was watching the breeze rustle the trees when a sensation like needles sticking into my skin hit me. I paused. Was someone . . . Chills ran up my spine. Someone was watching me. But . . . it didn't feel like it was coming from inside, but outside.

My stomach lurched. I scanned the area for any creepy–looking men. Because that's exactly what stalkers looked like: men dressed in trench coats with flipped up collars that kept their faces hidden. Hats were common as well, to hide their receding hairline (We're choosing to ignore that I had once been a stalker. We didn't need to get into that, because it was really a long story when you got down to it and this class was only an hourish long and to completely explain myself, we would have to go back to when I was a child and that spanned quite a few years and—).

Ahem.

Anyway. No one stood on the field.

. . . Which was weird. I could have sworn that—

A pair of eyes suddenly popped out from the branches of a tree that skirted the field. I jumped back in surprise and was about to scream bloody murder, when the small body crawled out onto the knotted branch. I blinked. Holy sh—it was that dumb cat from this morning! The one that made me fall over! And just like this morning, its purple eyes were stuck on my form, judging me.

I made a face. Well, I—

"Ms. Pataki."

The voice was like a needle to a balloon. Popping the thought that had been expanding and jolting me back down to reality.

Ah. Right. Still in class.

The skin on my neck felt like it was on fire. It took a lot of strength—and I should be commended for it—to unlatch my stare away from the window and turn it around to meet the numerous bemused stares surrounding me. I wondered if I had accidentally screamed or made a noise, because why was everyone looking at me? The burning came back to explode in my face. Arnold was one of those stares. Although, his was a slight frown. Had I not been so consumed in my humiliation, I would have realised how strange that was and wondered what prompted that specific reaction. But I didn't. Instead, I forced myself to meet Mrs. Brown's glare.

Suddenly, thoughts about a stalker seemed much more appealing. I wished that there actually was a guy out there. Because then at least, I wouldn't look so stupid.

The entire fiasco ended up painting a target on my back. Mrs. Brown would direct random questions at me to make sure I was listening (I wasn't). I tried guessing the answers but got every one of them wrong. My skin, at this point, felt like it was seared from the embarrassment. God, I was such an idiot. And to think, Arnold was watching this all happen.

I couldn't forget the cat though. I found myself glancing back to check if it was still there. But it apparently had gotten bored and wandered off.

Which was great. I was going through all this for no reason. Yipee.

The moment that the bell rung, I high–tailed it outta there.

The pounding in my ears must have been excessive because as I ran, it almost sounded like someone were calling my name. But I figured it was just the PTSD kicking in from experiencing such a mortifying and humiliating event. No one really paid attention to me nowadays.

Now, as previously established, I wasn't a fan of biology. However, I was a little excited to get into the classroom. Not because of the lesson, but because it was the rare class where I had a friend—kinda.

I had also gotten close with Nadine at the start of the year. We weren't buddies or anything, but we did save seats for each other and whisper jokes when the lessons got too boring. She was the one thing that made this horrendous class bearable. So I was disappointed to learn that she was absent today. I knew that it was ridiculous, but I was still slightly on edge from whatever had happened in algebra. I wanted to sit with someone. I didn't even care if that included Nadine calling me delusional for letting something so trivial get to me.

But I couldn't get that cat's eyes out of my head. They were spikes that rushed to stick themselves into your brain.

I sat away from the window this time and sharpened my pencil until it resembled a stake. Yeah, alright, I was getting a little paranoid. But I wasn't taking any chances. What cat had purple eyes? That had to be demonic.

I flinched at the slightest sound—when someone moved, or there was a sneeze—and it earned more than a few stares. I lowered my eyes to the table, hoping they couldn't see how badly my cheeks were burning. Not that I was scared. Duh, of course not. I just didn't like the idea of getting stalked by a demonic cat. It wasn't how I had envisioned my death. Personally, I had always imagined myself drowning.

Yeah, I'd already planned it out.

I wasn't suicidal or anything. It was just—you know— poetry. Dying in one's sleep was boring and cliched, but drowning had that dramatic flare.

I mean, picture it: water closing in around you, darkness covering your vision. You would try to fight as long as you could. Holding your breath, kicking your legs, you struggle to break for that sun–speckled surface. Eventually, your body tires. Heart hammering, you realise that no one is coming to your rescue and release that tiring breath. Cold water fills your lungs as the illusion of survival dissipates. Darkness breathes you in as you send prayers that they'll discover your body and eventually pass it onto a loved one—

"Ms. Pataki!"

A pair of golden brown hands clapped inches from my face.

I jerked backwards, blinking. "Wha–what?"

I found myself staring at Mrs. Belmonte, the biology teacher. She had stopped in front of my desk and was moving her hands down to her sides. She pressed me with a hard look.

"Jesús, esta chica," she muttered under her breath. "Daydreaming again, Helga?"

Only about my death, miss.

Now obviously, I wasn't actually going to say that to her. Not if I didn't want to be forced into some counselling sessions that insisted on discussing the suicidal thoughts that I didn't have, and then having more than a few embarrassing meetings set up with Bob and Miriam.

Yeah, no thanks. Anything would be better than that.

So, I settled for silence. It was, after all, the best of answers.

Well, apparently Belmonte didn't agree. She kicked me out of class. I mentally sent curses to Purple Eyes as I marched out of the room. Clenched my teeth when the snickers from other students hit me. I slammed the door extra loud and crossed my arms as I waited outside. In the end, I was forced to stay there for the rest of the period. I suspect because she had forgotten about me. Story of my life.

Lunch didn't hold much comfort either. Phoebe didn't turn up. She had to attend another one of her geek sessions.

So I had my lunch alone then left for the library again. It had become a safe haven of mine. I often took a book out from the classics section—although sometimes, I would venture out to the non–fiction aisle—and settled at one of the tables in the corners. It was a cliché, but the library had become my place to hide from the world when it didn't want me. Reading opened me to worlds that were more welcoming no matter who you were, or what your past was.

Today, my mood was low so I went for a familiar one: Much Ado About Nothing. Yeah, I know, not a book. It was a play. But it was one of my favourites. I had first discovered it when I was ten and it had quickly become a favourite. Most people who knew me assumed that it would be Romeo and Juliet, and while I liked that play, Much Ado About Nothing cleared it. Who didn't love a good rivals to lovers? (I had been stoked to find out that we were going to be studying it sometime this year as well).

After lunch, I had Home Ec. which dragged on for what felt like months. Mr. Scott was so damn chipper and it was really grating on my nerves. I was seriously considering heaving myself out from the window just to escape his perky voice (But then, I figured, I would have to deal with a possibly demonic cat either scratching my eyes out, or putting me in a weird trance and leading me to a group who loved to make sacrifices on Monday mornings and drink the blood of different animals, because that's what they did in the movies).

In that end, I endured the perkiness until the class ended and I was in P.E. And I think it was safe to assume that Ms. Ainsley was having boyfriend troubles again.

We were forced to do ten push ups, fifteen sit ups then run at least three laps. And if she caught us stopping for too long, she'd make us begin again. My lungs were burning by the end of it, I wanted to heave my lunch up. I heard several students around me cursing her boyfriend for whatever sins he had committed this time.

I agree: I had never met Ainsley's boyfriend, but he must have been the most clueless man on the planet.

For months, Ainsley had been waiting for him to pop the question. She would always get herself worked up for the weekend, only to be disappointed when Monday rolled through. Which made us the perfect targets for her to take her frustration out on. Like today, where after making us run those laps, she forced us to play a nice, happy game of Go Fish.

(And by Go Fish, I mean volleyball, and by nice and happy, I meant so intense that three students had to be sent to the nurse's office).

I mostly got by without too much trouble, until Ainsley spun to catch me bending over to tie up my shoelaces. So I was stuck singlehandedly packing up all the equipment. I gritted my teeth when Rhonda and her minions snickered as they passed me. I had to wrap my hands extra tight around the net to stop myself from smacking her (not that Ainsley would be too displeased at it. She had a weird enthusiasm about students getting into fights).

By the time that I had finished, the last period had begun.

Thankfully, my favourite: English. The only class that I actually tried in.

We were supposed to receive our assignment results today and I was more than excited for mine. Not to toot my own horn, but— toot toot—my narrative was pretty damned good.

It was a love story—my favourite kinda story. It was between two teenagers who were separated by their social status at school. The boy, Aaron, was popular, well liked and a babe. And the girl, Heidi, was unpopular but beautiful. Shy, insecure and a mystery to her classmates.

One day, Heidi confesses her love for Aaron, but out of desperation to look cool in front of his friends, Aaron pretends that her feelings were unrequited. He humiliates her by proclaiming how he'd never go for a nerd like her and she must have been dreaming to believe that he could ever love her. Heartbroken, Heidi leaves in tears and Aaron watches her go, guilt–stricken.

Eventually, Heidi, unable to keep going with such a feeling remaining unrequited, decides to throw herself from the city bridge. But Aaron finds her before she can go through with it and confesses that he loves her as well. The story ends with them sharing their first kiss, in the light of the sunset.

Pretty great, right? I had a bit of a thing for love stories, so when Ms. Hartman gave us free reign for this latest assignment, I decided to indulge a little.

I could barely contain myself as I waited in my seat. I usually received high marks in this class, which you would think might lose its magic at some point. But it hadn't (It might've helped that my grades were sinking lower than the Titanic and this was the only class I had left to remind me that I had something going for me, otherwise, with every assignment that I received back, my already delicate sense of self worth was sent crashing further until one day, I woke up completely miserable and looking in the mirror, I was going to realise that I really was as horrible and wretched as I feared, and that I was going to live a completely meaningless and incoherent existence . . . but that was just a guess).

But then I heard a giggling and when I looked toward the doorway, it was to Arnold and Lila headed for their seats at the back. The sight felt like someone had punched me. Lila wasn't looking at him, instead her eyes were moving across the room as she greeted her classmates. But Arnold was entirely focused on her and whatever she had said, had left his cheeks flushing red.

I forced my gaze down to my hands on my desk and wound them together. Blocked out their voices. I had assumed that, from how Lila had reacted this morning on the bus, that maybe Arnold had confessed and she had let him down, severing their relationship. But they seemed fine, better than ever. Why? Why were they still spending so much time together? The veins in my hands popped as the questions raced through my mind. Where was Gerald when you actually needed him? What was with Arnold spending so much time with little miss perfect? I wanted to stop them, but they were moving through me without permission. Teasing me. Taunting me. Reminding me that I would never be her, or anything remotely similar like her. That giving up had been the right choice, because there wasn't any point in trying when it would inevitably end in failure, which it always would.

Don't you hate when that happens?

"—so, I can't decide which colour to go with."

Eager for a distraction, I rose my eyes up until I was staring at Rhonda Lloyd.

She was a few rows ahead of me, perched on her desk and admiring her painted nails. Her two minions—I could never remember their names, but to be honest, it didn't really matter. I just called them Thing 1 and Thing 2—were sat beside her at their own desks.

"You might be thinking too hard on this," Thing 1 said, although she didn't look away from herself in her mirrored compact.

Rhonda raised her eyebrows. "How?"

"Well, the prom's six months away," Thing 2 said. She was the only one actually looking at her, sliding her wrist along the desk to hold her hand out in Rhonda's direction. "There's still plenty of time."

Ah.

I rolled my eyes. Of course Rhonda was discussing dress colours for an event that was more than half a year away. Guess it made sense though, she already had her date, might as well snag a dress as well.

"Six months is not plenty of time," Rhonda scoffed, leaning backwards on her desk. "It's barely anything. I don't even know what vibe I want."

I made a face. Oh, to have the problems of a teenage, self–obsessed, vapid shopaholic. Must be nice.

"Isn't red your signature colour?" Thing 2 asked.

"Yeah and—don't get me wrong, it's super flattering, but also, kinda typical?" Rhonda shrugged. "For me, anyway. Like, I'm always wearing it and I just wanna pop, y'know? And stand out from my regular days—"

"Which is super difficult because you're always standing out, Rhonda," Thing 2 said.

Kiss ass.

Rhonda made a face, clearly liking that comment. "Exactly! You get it."

Ms. Hartman arrived after that and when she did, I straightened in my seat. She was carrying multiple binders in her arms, which she dumped onto her desk, then turned to beam at us.

"So, I finally marked your papers," she announced cheerfully. Only, unlike Mr. Scott, it wasn't infuriating. "So, guess what you're getting back today?'

Her answer was a chorus of groans as everyone slumped into their seats. Some even attempted to hide behind their textbooks or oversized blazers.

I, on the other hand, was practically buzzing when Ms. Hartman began handing out the papers. She reached my desk and I expected to be greeted with that proud grin that she always gave me. Instead, she pressed her lips together and looked away. She handed my paper then walked to the next desk and when my eyes went to the mark, I almost cried. A 9/20 was circled in red ink at the corner of the paper.

My jaw dropped.

People were either groaning or cheering when receiving their papers and turned to their friends to trade their scores. I stayed silent, eyes glued to the absolutely pathetic excuse of a score in my hands. Did I fail?

When she got to the front of the room, Ms. Hartman cleared her throat.

"If you have any questions concerning why you got your mark—" her eyes flickered to mine. "—just see me after class so we can discuss it."

The numbness was still pushing through me, so sluggish that it almost made me feel bruised. But through it all, I decided that yes, I would be staying back. Because this was obviously a mistake.

I knew that I would be the only one to stay behind. The people who failed didn't care about this class and those who received decent marks were satisfied (I wonder if Little Miss Perfect scored higher than me).

Waiting for that final bell was infuriating. The numbness had dissipated at some point and was replaced with a feeling that seethed beneath my skin. My fingers cramped from where they were wrapped around the edge of my desk and several times, I could feel a stare pressing into my neck.

The bell rung and everyone bolted for the door.

Calmly, I rose from my desk and packed my books away. Silence became a sound that drilled into my ears, a hollowing that took up the space in my head. I thought that everyone had left until I looked up into a pair of green eyes.

Arnold.

I was surprised to see that he was still here. Well. He looked like he was in the process of leaving. He had his bag swung onto his shoulder and had been walking down the rows when he had slowed a few desks away from mine. He turned his face away when our eyes connected and I dropped my gaze, embarrassed. His stare sent a lightning bolt hurtling through my chest.

Shuffling came from across the room. Ms. Hartman. Right. I suddenly remembered my mission.

I looked up again and met Arnold's gaze before he turned away and left the room.

I rose an eyebrow. Well, that had happened.

But I swung my bag onto my shoulder and crossed the room for Ms. Hartman. Deciding it didn't matter, because it didn't. She was packing away her things from her desk when she heard my footsteps.

She rose her eyes to mine.

"Look, Helga, your story—it wasn't terribly written or anything, it's just—" she struggled for the right word. "It's kinda, well, y'know? Um, dull. Yeah, it was quite dull and, honestly? It has me concerned."

I rose a brow. "What?"

Mrs. Hartman examined my expression for a second, before coming around so she could lean against her desk.

She crossed her arms, meeting my gaze.

"Helga, I'm not sure if you're aware, but whenever I assign writing assignments, you always choose to focus on romance. Which I get—hopeless romantic, right? There's no shame in it, I consider myself one as well. And naturally, you can't help escaping into your fantasies while writing, right?"

I bit on my tongue to keep the words from escaping my mouth. How did my perception of love and romance have anything to do with this?

Instead, I asked, "Is there anything wrong with that?"

"Not on its own, no," she shook her head. "But I know how much of yourself you project into your writing. And the girl that you're writing about here, commits suicide over a boy. That worries me."

I didn't respond but could sense where this was going.

Clearing her throat, she continued. "I know, I know, I'm your teacher and you don't want me barging in and making a big deal over nothing. But nonetheless, I am concerned about how you've portrayed this girl's worrying dependence on a boy as true love. And you were very descriptive when depicting her heartbreak—you knew how to vocalise those thoughts, even her suicidal ones, and I was wondering if yo—"

"Look, Ms. Hartman, I'm not about to kill myself over some guy and whether or not he likes me." I paused and quickly added, "I don't even like anyone. No one. This is fictional— all fictional. So there's not even a boy to kill myself over." Wait, that hadn't come out right. "Not that I would ever anyway!" But Ms. Hartman was already eyeing me, the line between her brows becoming prominent, so I quickly changed the topic. "So, why does this result in me failing?"

"Well, I wouldn't describe this as a fail." But she paused when I gave her an unimpressed look and cleared her throat. "But anyway, as I've mentioned—yes, your story is quite dull. It didn't stand out from other students, or even your own works. You're always writing about passionate romances and nothing outside of it. The assignment was to explore and understand the self, but you chose to shift it into a love story again. You're not showing me much range. The characters were two–dimensional and the moral wasn't healthy, to say the least. It just wasn't your best work, Helga."

Wow, Ms. Hartman. Tell us how you really feel.

"So, bottom line: it sucked," I translated. Because of course it did.

Ms. Hartman paused, surprise overtaking her features.

"Oh, no, no—it doesn't suck. It's just . . . a little boring," she cringed at her word choice but forced a smile. "Look, I know how much you care about your writing. And I know that you're talented, so I'll give you some tips. The next assignment is in a month. You remember, right? Rewrite a classic tale with a different approach. You're gonna have to write it with a partner, so why not open yourself up to something other than romance?"

I frowned. "Like what?"

"Oh, Helga, honey, there's thousands—millions of themes that you can explore!" Her eyes lit up as her smile became more natural. "You could write a coming of age story, a survival, the revealing nature of power, how unity can be found through disillusionment. The possibilities are endless!"

I knew that I should be reacting in a way that suggested that I got it. That I understood her. But I didn't. I instead felt lost. It swirled in my chest and ached like a cavity. The words she said meant nothing to me, as everything else did.

"But how can I write about things that I don't know?" I asked, quietly.

She smiled, releasing a breathy sort of laugh.

"Research, honey. Keep up to date with things, read some articles, ask people, do some googling. Explore." She scanned my face then placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "You're an intelligent kid, Helga. I don't know why you're not trying in your other classes, but I know that you're very bright. And you can go a lot further than what you, or anyone else, can imagine. You just gotta develop some more faith in yourself. Stop worrying about making mistakes, those are normal. Everyone has them. It's not about not making them ever, but learning from them, and evolving as people. Everyone can learn and everyone can grow. So do it. Become daring. Become more willing to put yourself out there and just . . . live."

The ride home was a blur.

Transport, motorways and tramlines
Starting and then stopping

I sat at the back of the bus with my hoodie drawn up and earbuds jammed in. My legs were pulled to my chest, hands wrapped around my shins, and sleeves covering my fingers. I had stuffed my blazer into my bag. The music in my ears, despite appearances, was turned down low so I could keep my attention up ahead.

Taking off and landing

Arnold and Lila sat next to each other.

The emptiest of feelings

It was a sight that left me nauseated. How well they looked together. The seats were tiny, so it forced a small proximity and while it didn't seem to register to Lila, it certainly did to Arnold. She would glance out the window, making a comment about something that passed, and Arnold's eyes would soften. Gerald was sat behind them with his elbows propped onto the bars. But that didn't break the spell that Arnold was under. He looked at her like it was just them.

Disappointed people

I didn't know what I had been hoping to find when I looked. I didn't know what it was that I was still searching for. Maybe it was the right moment; the moment when he looked up and I caught his eyes one more time. And maybe, my looking at him would make him finally discover the words I had imagined that he'd been holding back. Maybe they would surge so powerfully in his chest, that he would stand from his seat to approach me. Maybe, he would kneel down onto one knee, look into my eyes and tell me that I wasn't crazy and there really had been something between us this entire time. Maybe then, he would offer me his hand. And maybe, I would have the courage to accept rather than retreat. Maybe I was still hoping to get everything right.

Clinging on to bottles

But that was never going to happen. Because that was a fantasy, and it would be stupid to think otherwise.

Let down and hanging around

Arnold didn't care about me. He never had. And why should he? He had Lila. They would make a good couple. A beautiful couple. Hillwood's Prince and Princess. The perfect equation.

Crushed like a bug in the ground
Let down and hanging around

It was foolish to look at her and imagine myself in her place. We were nothing alike. Whenever I looked at her, I saw all the things that I would never be: Sweetness. Charm. Gentleness. Warmth. Beauty. Everything Arnold deserved. Lila was the kind of beauty that was so lovely that it felt like there should be a catch, like an apple so red that you knew it was poisoned. But so far, I hadn't found it—her poison. Lila was just good. That was it. And there was no changing it.

Shell smashed, juices flowing
Wings twitch, legs are going

Arnold's haze didn't clear even when Lila had gotten off at her stop. He just turned to Gerald and went on about how gorgeous she was.

Don't get sentimental
It always ends up drivel

I clenched my teeth.

'You're an intelligent kid, Helga.'

I couldn't remember the last time someone had told me that I was smart. No one believed that I was anything (they didn't think of me enough to gets as far as beliefs). I didn't try in my classes. Why should I? I could come home with Phoebe's grades, but it still wouldn't matter because I wasn't Olga.

'. . . why not try opening yourself up to something other than romance?'

My eyes went to the back of Arnold's head. Gerald had his cheek against his fist and nodded to whatever Arnold was saying, but from how he was slouching, I could tell that Gerald was inches from falling asleep.

I sighed.

One day I am gonna grow wings

I knew that I had to get over Arnold, but it was hard. Because when you got down to it, Arnold was a good person. I'd never met anyone like him. He was all that was right in the world, which made it hard to hate him. If he were like Gerald—a prick—then yeah, I could do it. But Arnold's nature was kind and simplistic. It was impossible to hate him. And if I couldn't hate him . . . how could I stop loving him?

A chemical reaction

Our stop was approaching.

Hysterical and useless
Hysterical and

Shoving on my bag, I dragged my feet down the aisle and pretended I couldn't see Arnold from the corner of my eye. He was doing his weird handshake thing with Gerald before waving goodbye. His presence slid behind me. I pressed my mouth into a line. His body heat was moving against the back of my neck and curling around my shoulders.

The bus stopped and when I stepped off, I expected for that to be the end.

But Arnold's presence stayed close.

My heart throbbed in my throat. I could barely do anything even when I heard the bus continue down the street. Seconds passed and neither of us moved. I moved my gaze down to my shoes. I didn't have the courage to see where he was looking. Whether, it was to the sky, or maybe, at me. The galloping became louder in my chest. I bit my cheek. I was being ridiculous—it wasn't like he was doing anything for me to act like this.

I then heard footsteps and looked to find him moving around me to walk up the steps to his door. His head didn't turn. He didn't spare me a single glance, which hurt because he had already given so many to Lila.

Clenching my jaw, I turned in the direction for my home.

"Helga."

His voice went through me like knives. I stopped in my tracks and felt those butterflies coming back.

"I'm, um, sorry about y'know . . . hitting you earlier."

The temptation became too strong and I slowly looked over my shoulder, seeking out those warm, glorious eyes—

Uncomfortable.

That was how he looked. His smile was forced and his fingers had hooked around the back of his neck. Those green orbs went up to meet mine for a second before slinking back down to his feet.

The air tightened and the silence turned thick and unsettling.

He was uncomfortable—because of me.

It reminded me of the last time we had spoken. He had been so uncomfortable. Arnold had a talent with talking to people; you could put him in front of anyone and with a smile, their shields would come crashing down. But when it came to me, the situation left him quiet and itching to get away. He looked at me like I were the ashes that wanted to haul down his throat so he would stop him breathing. I was something deadly to him, something to be frightened of.

I made him uncomfortable.

But even he was too good a person to not attempt to apologise over something as minor like this morning. No wonder he had been staring at me during class. He had been trying to approach me. To apologise. To me, someone who had bullied him for years.

Nausea crept to swirl in my stomach. The raw pain, the brutal cracks running down my heart, it was all relived as I began to remember—

Golden rays pierced the burnt sky as birds chirped their Gaian melodies. How I wished that I would grow my own feathers, sprout wings so silky and beautiful, so that I could escape. Push against the ground, then leave this earth. Float to something better. The breath in my lungs had become crooked, pausing when I met his unsettled eyes. A heartbeat quivered in my fingertips.

The way he looked at me was different: unfocused yet pressed.

Eyebrows furrowed, he opened his mouth. "You l—"

—no, no, no. I wasn't going down that road again, I wasn't about to remember that.

The space between us had become stagnant. Crisp. Cobwebs had been weaved; dust had settled. I had let this happen for a reason; I had dropped contact with him for a reason. It was too painful talking to Arnold. I hated looking at what I did to him, how uncomfortable I always made him,

I didn't spare him another glance and began walking home.

I turned my music up so loud that my ears were throbbing. I didn't care. I needed to get away from him. It felt like my chest had been sliced open. The breath had contorted. All my senses had rolled upward to pressed beneath my skin, needles jamming into me, so now, nothing seemed right. Nothing would ever be right. I had blocked this all out for a reason.

Ms. Hartman was right: I needed to get over him. It wasn't healthy—it had never been healthy. For anyone. That story had been nothing but the hopes that I had kept stashed away. The dreams that I kept for the nights where I couldn't sleep. The hope that Arnold would turn around and find something about me that was worth protecting. That was beautiful, more beautiful than Lila. But he hadn't because that wasn't possible. It was stupid. There wasn't anything about me that was worth it.

I would always be horrible, malicious and vile Helga Pataki: the girl who only cares about herself.

"I'm home."

I pulled the door shut behind me, taking out my earphones. I was expecting it, but my voice fell on deaf ears. No one was here save for the person still passed out on the couch. For a moment, I thought that Miriam hadn't even bothered waking up at all since I'd left, but then I noticed the change in clothing. She'd traded her mucky denim dress, for a purple, squared one. Her feet were still bare. There was a dark drool patch beneath her mouth, soaking the cushion. Dried salvia around her chin. Looking at her half–empty mug still in her hand, I snorted and stalked up the stairs.

Slamming my door shut, I dumped my bag and took off my shoes. I threw my hoodie onto the ground, leaving only my uniform on, and snatched the bands from my hair. It felt like my chest were being squeezed. I made my way across the room, aware that moisture was blurring my vision, and heaved myself onto the bed. Dug my nails into the pillow and buried my head in the blanket.

When had this all happened?

My family barely noticed my existence, my teachers had no faith in me. Phoebe barely spent time with me and Arnold was in love with the most perfect girl on earth. Not only that, but he found me as intolerable as everyone else did.

This, for whatever reason, was my fate. It was my destiny. To be alone, to be loveless. You were either loved, or you weren't. But I didn't want this, I never wanted this. I wanted to be loved. I wanted to be surrounded by people. I was tired of living like this, of being Helga. I wanted to be someone else. But what could I do, who could I talk to? Who could change my destiny?

The walls were moving as I thought these things; turning, like they were tying themselves into a knot that would keep me from leaving.

This can't be my fate, I shook my face against the pillow. Felt the fabric turn wet beneath my eyes. This can't be it, I don't want it. This is not my destiny.

Something ghostly crept over me when I thought those words. A chill that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight. I bolted up from the bed and my eyes settled on the window across the room. Or rather, the black cat that was perched outside—watching me.

Yelping, I leapt from my bed and onto the floor. But I had done it too quickly and lost my balance, falling onto my side on the ground. But I barely even noticed, because my attention was thrown ahead of me. On that fucking cat. I wiped the moisture from my eyes, which was difficult, because with how hard my heart was racing, it was making everything shake. I backpedalled across the floor until my back hit the bathroom door.

The cat watched this all happen, unimpressed.

"D–Did you follow me?" I demanded, clutching my heart.

The cat simply flicked its tail.

And a prickling sensation gnawed between my eyes. I grimaced, finding my vision blurring and my body seeming lighter. Everything suddenly felt wrong; like the floor should be rising to my eyes, and the walls should be crashing down to my feet. My limbs were moving like they were being pulled from strings and I realised that this wasn't a decision I was making. It was happening on its own. My body stood from the floor to cross the room. I held my breath, heart pounding beneath everything, as I moved towards the window. Electrical surges directed my arms to slide open the glass.

I swear the cat nodded before leaping inside. The moment that my fingers closed the window, I regained control and practically leapt across the room.

What type of satanic voodoo Darth Vader shit was that?!

In front of my door, I crouched down to the balls of my feet. I stared at my shaking hands. What the fuck made me do that? Had that cat infected me or something? An infection was the only thing that made sense as to how I suddenly lost control over my body like that.

Criminy, now I was stuck in a room with a diseased cat, which no doubt meant that the infection was going to take over my body again, then I would die because I couldn't get my hands on something to eat, then I'd come back to life because this illness was obviously supernatural, but I'd be so hungry that I would start eating people, then my life would be ruined because that would make me a murderer and the cops would be after me, then Arnold would hear about my freakass and get a bunch of his friends (and trust me, there were many of them) with pitchforks to hunt me down and I'd try running away but because this cat is satanic, it would zap me with its demonic magic and have me under its control again, then force me to do the macarena in front of Arnold, then my life would be ruined all over again, and then—

Purple Eyes pounced onto my bed and looked around the room. Its eyes swept over the posters sticky–taped across my walls, the rubbish flung across my vanity, and then the clothes covering my floor. I again felt judged and like I had to rush to explain that no, I wasn't normally this messy, I was just in a phase (which was ridiculous, I didn't even like cats).

Then, it looked at me.

I squealed, losing my balance and falling backwards onto my butt.

"W–What did you do to me?!" I shrieked at the thing. "That wasn't me! You did something, didn't you? A–And you've been following me all day—unless you're not the same cat, then I'd feel pri–tee dumb. Wait! No, no—there's no way some other cat that has purple eyes has been following me all day! No, that was definitely you! What the fuck did you do to me, Purple Eyes? It wasn't permanent, was it? I don't want to do the macarena in front of my beloved! I'm too young to be a massive dork in front of him! And why do you even have purple eyes anyway—"

"Are you quite done?"

. . .

. . .

. . .

I looked around the room for another person. I hadn't left the window open when I'd left, but if purple–eyed cats could become stalkers, then a man who could walk through walls wasn't that far–fetched. Hell, he didn't even need to walk through walls, he just needed to know that Miriam was useless. This house was not a hard target for a robbery.

Getting on my hands and knees, I peered beneath the bed, in search for any silhouetted bodies or beady eyes.

But I came up blank.

Pushing up onto my knees, I eyeballed my closet door. Perhaps—

"What on earth are you doing?"

My jaw dropped.

No way.

No. Way.

There was no way that human and British voice came out of the mouth of a purple–eyed cat.

"D–Did you just . . . talk?"

Purple Eyes reacted with offense at my surprise.

"Well, of course I can talk!" It exclaimed. "Really, you humans are such absurd creatu—what are you doing?! Unhand me this instant!"

Ignoring how it squirmed in my hands, I searched its fur for some type of battery compartment or glowing light or a selection of buttons—anything that indicated that it was a robot. It must've been one of those AI bots I'd seen in videos posted onto twitter, fashioned to look as realistic as possible.

Why they would waste their resources on making a cat robot, was beyond me.

"Where're the batteries?" I mumbled, inspecting its ears.

Growling, Purple Eyes clawed at my hands. I hissed and drew my hands back to my chest and the cat leapt from my arms to my bed.

"I have never been handled like that and I refuse to let it start now!" Its tail flicked around wildly as it levelled a glare at me.

But I wasn't paying attention: instead, I was looking down at my fingers, where there were two little scratches along the skin. It stung and I had to suck on it when the blood oozed between the two flaps. But it was when the skin began to swell, that it all hit me.

"Holy shit." I sunk to my knees, looking up at the cat. "You talk . . ."

The cat snorted—it snorted—but cleared its throat and nodded. "Well, yes, I can understand the surprise you must be feeling. I've become aware that cats on your planet do not possess the ability to communicate verbally with one another. Pity, really."

My planet.

"Anyways, I believe a formal introduction is required," it lightened its voice to sound friendly. Sitting down, its tail began rippling. "My name is Nel, and I have been sent to seek out four potential Guardian to defend this planet against enemy forces. This morning, I sensed quite a bit of potential from you, which is why I have followed you. I apologise if I startled you, but I needed to be sure that you were one of the four. Now I, without a doubt, believe that you—excuse me, where are you going?"

Looking up from the door handle in my hand, I met the cat's angry glare to find it— Nel—springing back up to her paws.

Dazed, I tapped my temple.

"Obviously, today has gotten to me more than I thought," I admitted, more to myself than her. "I'm going for a walk to clear my head . . ."

Nel sighed, sitting back down.

"I can see you are having a difficult time believing anything that I am saying to you. For this, I do not blame you. Instead, allow me to prove to you that what I speak is truth."

She began drawing symbols that I didn't recognise into the air.

I watched as it happened, everything slowly sinking in like needles prickling into my skin. I found myself sinking, back sliding down the door until I was on the ground. The hair over my eyes ruffled from my breath.

Then, there was a bright flash. I shielded my eyes, but it was too late. Spots flashed across my vision, and for a moment, I was dazzled. The light pushed a warmth across the arm that I held over my face.

Eventually, I opened my eyes and—

What the fuck?

—where the light had once burned, a golden pin floated.

I blinked and searched for the wires that were holding it up but yelped when it suddenly zoomed in my direction. Something stirred between my eyes, an energy. I ignored it and closed my eyes, bracing myself for the impact, when my arm shot out in time for something small to fly into my palm—

I gasped.

It was like a door had been swung open from deep within my mind. Foreign sensations moved through my veins, tickling beneath my skin, and a loud buzzing filled my head. Colourful spots flashed—amber that flickered into red, then blue. I could hear voices—whispering, singing, babbling, chanting, yelling. A sharp prick from somewhere in my brain before the voices were increasing. The sounds stirred, threatening to crush my vision until it was a paste. I couldn't register what the voices were saying but something was rising in my chest, like I could understand it.

I cradled my ears and hoped for it to stop. The pounding in my temples intensified and I bit down on my lip. Where were these voices even coming from?

Then, they slowed and drowned out to a stop, and I was left listening to my ragged breaths. What the hell was that? I felt strangely sluggish. Like the light that had been filling my body, had evaporated and without it, my body was just an unworn suit of skin.

Looking at my hand, I found the golden pin.

A shiver raced down my spine. It was a bird spreading its wings in flight, a golden halo wrapped around its body. I blinked. There was still a warmth tingling in my palm. It didn't hurt, but it wasn't comfortable.

Then, the pin pulsed.

I jumped.

"This is your own transformative device. It allows you to unlock your true potential as a Guardian."

Nel's words were lost on me. I stared at her. What the hell was going on? Sensing my confusion, Nel paused her explanation and sighed. "Right. Okay, how about this? Place the pin on your shirt and repeat after me: My Inner Guardian: Exorior."

I frowned. "What do—"

"Just do it."

I made a face. Christ. Touchy.

Still, what did I have to lose? This was obviously just a crazy dream I was having. Or maybe, a delusion I had created to escape reality. What was it gonna hurt if I played along?

Clearing my throat, I pushed my shoulders back and rose my chin. Pinning the bird to my shirt, I stretched my hand above my head.

"My Inner Guardian: Exorior!"

A warm—no, burning sensation surged through my body and a beam shot out from the pin, slinging out to wrap around me like a lasso. It was hot and turned my vision white. The warmth pushed through me like sunshine, and a power rose in my chest. The air crackled with static. I shut my eyes. The floor vanished from my feet. Lights bent and curved and shot past. It suddenly seemed as if something was snapping—a restraint. A cord that had been pulled tight, was finally snapping, and now, I was set free. Chains were falling from my arms, and my hair was fluttering around my shoulders. Clothes were shrinking and something was clasping around my feet.

And then, it all vanished. The warmth disappeared with a flash and my feet were back on the ground. The thud rolled out like thunder. The sensation travelled up my legs, and my lips lifted into a smile.

Nel's flabbergasted expression was the first sight that I saw.

I quirked a brow.

And realised I felt strange.

No, not strange—great! I felt amazing. Fantastic. My brain was racing, so fast that I felt I should be seeing stars. And my body felt so unbelievably strong. Everything looked so clear—so defined and detailed. It was like something had flipped in my brain and now I was watching the HD version. And my senses—fuck, without even having to look out the window, I could feel the air dampening and the clouds rolling in. The sun had been shining all day, but I could smell a humidity hanging in the air. There was a dulling in the light. I could also hear things—Miriam's snoring downstairs as she shifted into a more comfortable position. The drink swished over the edge of her mug and splashed onto the ground.

I grimaced. Bob was not going to be happy when he got back—

Wait a minute.

Did I just hear Miriam spill her drink downstairs?

I looked at my hands and felt my eyes widen. They had always been average–sized and callous with ugly, chewed up nails. Now they were longer with baby–smooth flesh and perfectly shaped nails. And along my forearms were beaming vambraces.

I leapt to my mirror and momentarily marvelled at how quickly I got there—it was like there'd been no movement. I had just thought of it and barely a second passed before I was across the room and staring at an unknown face.

My jaw dropped.

The girl in the mirror was an ethereal beauty. She had platinum blonde hair that flowed down her back in soft, bouncy curls. But two sections on either side of her temples were wound back into braids that joined across the top of her head like a band. She was tall and impressively proportioned, with a small waist, flat stomach and—holy fuck, boobs.

She wore a leotard that cut off so high at her hips that you could see the definition in her thighs. It was white and had a tight bodice with a sweetheart neckline. The shoulder straps were thick but turned gold at the clavicle as they stretched across my collarbones to join in the middle. The gold matched the undersides of her vambraces, which enclosed around her wrists almost to her elbows. Her boots were knee–length with impressive heels.

The girl . . . was most certainly not me.

She had light hair (although, mine was a dirty blonde whereas, hers was pushing white), but c'mon, since when did I have boobs? Mine have remained the same since I was twelve, I swear. And do not get me start on my lack of curves. This girl, on the other hand, not only had a curvy figure but appeared older. I couldn't tell her exact age, but she definitely wasn't sixteen. She was an adult.

I turned in Nel's direction then had to stop to marvel at how quickly that had happened. Okay. That was going to take some getting used to.

Anyway, with my hands on my hips, I pressed her with a look.

"What happened to me?!" I demanded, then froze. Because the voice that came out was not my voice. It was deeper, a warm rumble that was rich in tone. "What the hell—what happened to my voice?! What did you do to me?!"

"I told you," Nel shook off her shock with a cluck of her tongue. "You're a Guardian. You were born with an untapped potential—a power if you will. And the voice is so no one may identify you from your speech."

"Wait, what? I have powers?" For extra emphasis, I pointed at myself.

"Yes."

"No way!" A grin spread across my face. "What, what! Is it laser vision? Flying? Shooting fireballs from my hands? Moving things with my mind? How abo—"

"I'm not quite sure yet," Nel said, frowning. "However, as soon as that pin meshed with your DNA, you're granted capabilities that are far greater than other humans."

"Capabilities?"

"Yes," Nel nodded. "You should find your strength has boosted. Your wounds will heal quicker and as you've already discovered, your speed—"

And then, there was a scream.

Nel let out a gasp and jerked her eyes to the window.

I jumped backwards and bumped into the mirror. It rocked behind my shoulder, but I didn't care because the sounds. I needed to escape them. The hairs on my neck stood straight as my heart unfurled to pound in my ears. Bowing my head, I covered my ears to block out the noise. But it did nothing. It seemed to be getting louder. But it didn't sound like it was coming from outside . . . it felt like it was coming from my own head.

Nel grimaced, drawing her ears back against her head.

"W–What the hell was that?!" I demanded when it eventually stopped. But in its absence, it left behind a ringing that made everything feel as if it was going to fold to the floor like fabric. I still had my hands pressed to my ears as I turned back to Nel.

She had leapt from my bed to pad across the room. She peered outside the window. The sun was sinking below the horizon, so the last of its rays shot across her face.

She turned back to me. "An attack."

My heart went into my throat. " What?"

"Do you remember what I said about enemy forces?"

My eyes moved to the window and then I felt myself crossing the room. Twilight twisted across my face like copper. Shadows stretched, and the beams pinned my figure black against the wall. I didn't know what I was looking for. I didn't even know what was happening. Enemy forces. I stood next to Nel.

She attempted to open the window by shoving her paws against the glass.

"Whoa—what're you doing?" I wrapped a hand around her torso and pulled her away.

"Listen, Helga!" she said, scaring me with her force. "That scream means that somewhere a Mutant has spawned and is on the hunt for its victims. And it's your job as a Guardian to protect your people!"

"Wha—" my jaw dropped. "Are you serious?'

"Deadly."

I grimaced at her choice of words but covered it with a scoff.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but it was only five minutes ago that I witnessed a talking cat for the first time—now all of a sudden, I'm some type of superhero? Forgive me if I'm not jumping for joy."

Nel seemed irritated with that, but then closed her eyes and released a small breath. Her face softened and she opened her eyes back to mine.

"I understand, then. I know it is asking a lot to suddenly be told that you're a sole protector of Earth. To defend it from forces that you've never even heard of. And believe me, if I had another option, I would take it. It pains me to force such a responsibility onto such a young girl, but there's no other options. So, I beg of you, rise. Rise and protect your home from the dangers that await it."

No, I wanted to say . No, you had the wrong girl. I wasn't a superhero. I wasn't a hero, period. What made you think that I could ever do something like that?

I mean, did she know who she was even talking to? Being a hero and protecting people wasn't my thing. It had never been my thing. She had to have made a mistake.

I opened my mouth to decline the ludicrous proposal when another shriek split the air.

We both jumped and I covered my ears. The sound was unbearable and tore through me like claws racing down my back. It made me want to run and curl up in my bed, press my face into the pillows until it went away.

"If you don't—" Nel forced out over the screams. I looked into her hardened eyes. "—then everyone you know, anyone you could ever love, everything on this planet—it will all be destroyed. If not today, tomorrow. If not tomorrow, the next day. Personally, I give it under a month."

A blonde face flashed behind my eyes and my stomach knotted into cramps. Everything on this planet. He— everything—could be destroyed within days. Sweat dampened my skin. The world that I knew wasn't much. I often felt like I had resided behind glass. I'd seen a lot, but never felt it. I hadn't had many experiences. And suddenly, I had the desire to do exactly that. Find something. Feel it. Extend my world.

My heart bumped hard enough to bruise my bones. I thought of Phoebe. Her dark eyes as they glimmered in amusement after having scared the daylights out of me. Her face never quite coming out right in photographs. I smiled. She was the only person who had stuck by me throughout these years. We hardly hung out anymore, but I still loved her. She was my best friend. I wouldn't let her die. I wasn't a hero, but this world was my home.

I put Nel down on the sill.

She was quiet, watching me curiously. I kept my attention on my fingers, sliding the window open, and then, released a slow, calming breath.

"Let's . . . get this over with then, yeah?"

Our next move was to jump from the window.

Which wasn't a metaphor or anything—that was actually what we did. Surprising, to say the least. My room was on the third level. The impact should have shattered my legs at least, especially in these fucking heels. But when we landed, my ankle didn't so much as roll. The ground was almost cushioning as I landed on the balls of my feet. Delicately. I could hear the sound folding out from beneath my heels and marvelled at how effortless that had been.

Nel shot off before I could keep thinking about it, however. She was following the screams and so, I followed her. I stumbled though because I was experiencing the world with new eyes. I could distinguish every raindrop before it splattered. Feel the colours shifting against my face. Smell the different scents as we whizzed past the houses. It didn't matter that it was night, I perceived things like it were day.

The world became a steady stream that never stopped. It was still something I was struggling to wrap my head around: how quickly everything became when I was like this. I didn't know if my surroundings had turned smoother, or if I had become lighter. But prior to this, it was like I had been walking around with chains clamped over my wrists, and now, they had snapped and I was free—liberated. Everything slipped past like it were water and the breeze lifted my hair from my face. The ground was a twisted beat beneath my feet, and a pulse rushed, smooth and cool, in my neck.

I wanted to stop when we passed Arnold's house. Even from outside, I could hear voices. It was a warm rumble. Everyone speaking over one another and yet each one seemed to understand the other. They weren't yelling, they were conversing. There was a steady murmur beneath it—the television. Someone must have left it on, although I wasn't sure if they were actually watching it. I shook my face and tried searching for Arnold amongst the sounds. But I couldn't hear him. I quirked a brow. Was he not in tonight? Please tell me that it had nothing to do with—

Nel's glare found mine.

Sheepishly, I grinned, before we took off again.

Darkness hung from the skies to press into my face. I didn't know how much time had passed—it seriously felt like it had been seconds—but the world was reeling fast until grass was crunching beneath my feet. My heartbeat was still low and my breath slipped out smooth like honey. I wasn't sure which surprised me more: the speed that I could run, or the lack of fatigue of it all.

Nel and I hung back behind a building, observing a deserted park.

Well, almost deserted.

Gripping the edge of the wall, I leaned around to scan the situation (yeah, good word, Helga). It— holy shit—there was a monster. Like, a real life, scooby dooby looking monster!

What the fuck?

It had long, meaty hands wrapped around the neck of a young man. I narrowed my eyes. There was a yellow cloud of smoke that hung over his face. At first, the man struggled—he kicked and clawed at the hand—but his movements weakened as the monster began drawing the smoke into its mouth.

I gulped, taking in the creature's form. Legs like tree trunks, it towered over the man and had protruding eyes that reminded me of stop lights. Nails sunk into the man's neck. Heart throbbing, my eyes traced its deformed stance when the reality of the situation hit me.

Um, yeah. No thanks. I so did not sign up to get murdered tonight.

"Helga!" Nel hissed when the beam shot out across my face from the screen now clutched in my hands.

I turned to her. "What?"

"What are you doing?"

I scowled at her bewildered look. "Um, what do you think I'm doing? I'm obviously calling the police. Criminy!"

Turns out, having larger breasts had some benefits (outside of having larger breasts). Evidently, they made excellent places to store your belongings, i.e. a phone.

I then froze when I noticed that it had grown eerily quiet. Odd.

Now don't get me wrong—I wasn't a professional. This gig—for lack of a better term—had only existed in my hands for, at the most, five minutes. But even I was aware that such a pause in activity when two seconds ago, all I could hear was a man struggling against an alien. My heart dropped. Nel and I exchanged panicked looks before glancing in the direction that said alien stood. My breath hitched when I realised that its eyes had settled on me.

It snarled, baring ugly teeth, and narrowed its eyes. Ripping its nails away from the man's neck, it dropped him to the ground and stepped over his unmoving body.

I blinked.

And then, all hell broke loose.

The Mutant charged, shooting like it were a rocket, and hurdled in my direction. Its cries filled the air as the ground shook beneath its heavy bounds.

And I gulped. Oh, hell no.

Apparently, Nel did not agree with me.

"Alright, Helga, now's your chance." She said, ears folding back as she crouched into a defensive stance. "As a Guardian, you have the strength to—Helga?"

Looking to her side, Nel realised that I no longer occupied the spot beside her anymore. All that was left of me was my phone, which dropped abandoned at her feet.

Her words hung awkwardly with no one there to receive them. Because I had already begun running. Which you might find unsurprising. I was apparently a Guardian, the newly formed hero of the city and sole protector against an enemy force. You would think that I would be running, which I was . . . just . . . not towards the monster—I was running away.

I could tell that Nel hadn't been expecting that. I didn't look at her or anything (too busy for that). But I could feel her surprise even with my back to her and a distance growing between us.

I chose to throw myself into the bushes where my great, epic plan was to crouch and wait until the alien eventually got bored and left to go terrorise someone else (Oh, like you wouldn't do the same thing).

Apparently, I was quite good at it—hiding. The alien didn't know where I went and so, it spent a while searching for me. Which meant that it was trying its chances beneath a park bench.

Annnnd that was when Nel revealed my position, which was how I found myself here—running away from an eight foot tall alien, dressed in basically a lingerie set and heels. Did I mention that it had started raining as well? Because of course it had! I just fucking loved Mondays!

"Leave me alone!" I shouted over my shoulder. "You freak!"

Shockingly, the monster did no such thing and continued chasing after me. Footsteps became louder and louder and the sounds sent adrenaline pumping through my veins. I tried turning a corner but slipped on the wet leaves and landed on my back. The pain radiated in waves, throbbing in my skull and ringing in my ears. The wind was knocked from me as cold air shattered against my lungs. But the ground was still trembling beneath my skin as the footsteps approached. Panic heaved and I forced myself onto my knees. The world was still spinning though, and I watched as the ground whirled and tangled with my wrists. I wanted to push myself to move when a crushing blow came down onto my skull and sent me reeling back.

I landed with a sharp crunch! that turned everything into a force that wanted to keep me down. The pain that slammed into my chest was mangled and felt as if my bones had smashed into glass shards that threatened to tear me apart. The night sloshed around me, as everything else became a blur. I wanted to stand, but the air had tripled its weight to pin against my chest. My head spun and something coated my tongue. I spat it out and when it splattered across my knuckles, I realised that it was blood.

Crap. Shit. How was I supposed to get out of this? My brain tried planning an escape, but I felt too sluggish to even comprehend what was happening. The sound of rain filled my ears. There was a dull ache, I realised, that had settled on the right side of my jaw. Where the ground had smashed into my face. I was surprised that it didn't feel more broken and raising my hand, I slid my knuckles against the bone.

The skin hadn't broken, and the bone gave a small protest at being touched, but nothing seemed out of place.

Instinctively, I frowned. Shouldn't I be more hurt? In fact, shouldn't I be bleeding? I felt the back of my skull and was surprised to feel the same results—a small spasm in pain, but no cuts or gaping wounds. Nothing was broken.

I was fine.

Breath shallow, I tried moving. I slapped my hand against the ground then pushed— heaved—until I was back onto my knees. I released a small breath, somewhat surprised at how smooth that had gone. But before I could press forward, a shadow fell over me and the monster showed up from my left.

Helga, what are you doing?!

Nel's voice suddenly echoed in my ears and I shrieked, whipping my head around. I spotted her in the branches of one of the taller trees in the park. She blended in well with the night, but her eyes stood out like a pair of glimmering stars.

You must get up!

That made me scowl. "Oh, sit on it! You fight him if it's so easy!"

She made a face like she was offended at that. It made me want to roll my eyes. Oh, get a grip, you—

The monster slammed its foot inches from my face into the ground. The action made the words I had been preparing, shoot so deep back into my throat that it was like I had swallowed something the wrong way. I slowly traced my gaze up from its disgusting foot to its thick legs, ashy body and then bulging eyes. The monster pulled its fist over my shoulder. Nerves hurtled down my spine and my limbs became numb. I wanted to move, but nothing was obeying. Nothing was processing. Letting out a scratchy cry, the monster's fist came swinging down.

A scream ripped from my throat and I lifted my arms up. Squeezed my eyes shut.

. . . and felt nothing.

A loud crackling noise suddenly sprang to surround me and pushed a burning sensation into my ears. Prickles slithered up and down my arm as the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight. Something shook in my stomach, and my skin crawled as tiny whispers fell around me like thread.

Slowly, I peeked one eye open—

Holy shit!

—and gasped.

The monster's fist had banged against a thin, shimmering blue wall that had formed at the tips of my fingers. There was a buzzing—an electric pounding—that cracked the air as light spilled out onto the sidewalk. The sight was magnificent. Cerulean blue. Wrapped around me, protecting me. I watched it and as I did, something warm surged in my chest.

Helga, Nel's voice found me until I was looking in her direction. That's your power: forcefields!

Forcefields.

I moved my eyes slowly back until they were on the light. The mysticism hung like jewels on a beaded curtain, softly swirling stars that sparkled in the night. It took my breath away. It filled me with an odd feeling: a sensation that reminded me of summer skies and threatened to heave me from the grounds. But the air around me had cooled. It was calming, refreshing. I hadn't realised how warm I had gotten. But the coolness rolled across my face until it was chasing the pain away. Sparks moved beneath my skin. The blood warmed in my fingers as my breath turned soft.

Huh.

The barrier's haze rivalled the harsh bulbs of the monster's eyes. Its amber lights narrowed into slits as it let out a ferocious roar. I wanted to scream, but the monster threw another punch to the wall. The collusion had my skeleton rattling inside my body, but the wall held. Crackles filled my ears. Something electric zipped up my spine and, bringing my hands close to my chest, I thrust them back out towards the barrier. The barrier followed my fingers and rushed forward until it sent the Mutant flying.

Good job, Helga!

I shook my head, not even registering the words at first.

Right. Right.

I climbed back to my feet but when I did, something rushed over me so strong that I was almost toppling over. I wasn't sure what it was, but the force washed my skin until it was warm and my ears were pounding. It was like the energy that had been rising in my veins had swung back so powerfully that it threatened to move the ground until it was above my head. I shook my face. The barrier, I realised, must have taken more energy than I thought. Because now, everything seemed much heavier. The magical sensations were pulling back and I began noticing my injuries. There was an aching pounding across my knuckles. Something warm was sliding down my cheek, dripping into the corner of my mouth. I wiped it away. Rain hammered down like bullets and soaked me to the bone. My pulse was spiralling in my wrists. Looking down at my hand, I balled it into a fist. I spat out more red saliva, then pushed my shoulders back. Rose my chin. Thunder rolled, and a breeze fluttered the hair down my back.

" Now—" I said to myself, "—it's pissed me off."

Then, multiple gasps caught my attention.

The sound made something jump into my chest and I looked over my shoulder. My jaw went slack. Because there, standing at the edge of the park, was a growing crowd. I couldn't tell how many people there were, but it had to be at least two dozen, maybe even three.

It was surprising, considering not only was it a Monday night, but it was also a pouring Monday night. Since when were this many people out? But I decided it was not the part to be focusing on right now. These people were standing here, watching the entire thing with wide eyes. Some even had their phones out, flashes on, and were recording everything.

Shit.

My nerves had dipped to coil in my knees and the electrical currents that normally carried my thoughts must have packed up for the night, because when I looked at them, nothing sprang to mind. They were looking at me so I knew that I should say something. But looking at them, all I could come up was—

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Which was typical. Classic Helga: take that genuine worry and care that you feel, bury it so deep down, until it came back out as anger. Had I been in another situation, I probably would have found that funny: you could change my voice, face and abilities, but you would never get rid of the Pataki.

(For better or for worse).

"Don't you all see that monster? Get out of—"

Helga! Look out!

"Huh?"

Looking over my shoulder, my heart hurtled into my throat when a fist came right at me. Gasps and cries echoed from behind and I quickly dodged around the attack. I caught the monster glaring daggers before turning on my heel and bolting. Rain splattered around me, soaking my eyes, and my mind raced so fast that everything became dizzy.

"How am I supposed to defeat this thing?!"

Inside your boot!

I—

"What?"

Look inside your boot. Quickly!

I hid behind a nearby tree and slumped against the trunk to catch my breath. Hair tickled the middle of my back as rain slid to drip from my chin. The burn in my lungs had rolled into my throat until it felt like the saliva had been singed from my teeth. I pressed a hand to my chest for a moment before bending down to reach into the leg of my boot.

I paused when my fingers brushed an unfamiliar item.

Did you find it?

I pulled it from my boot as an odd tingling rattled in my fingers. I took it in, marvelling at the weapon now in my hands.

It was a dagger. An enchanting and strangely beautiful–looking dagger. The size of my forearm, it was a double edged blade forged from a blue–toned silver. There were writings carved into the blade, scrawls that I couldn't recognise. And yet, looking at them, there was a sense of familiarity somehow. The handle was golden with threads of silver twisting to the hilt, glinting in the moonlight.

I let out a low whistle. Nice.

Looking up, I shrieked when my vision filled with an approaching fist. I barely managed to roll to my side, clutching the dagger to my chest. The monster's fist glanced over my shoulder and smashed into the tree. I watched as the force was so great that it ripped the trunk from the ground, pushing it so that it came down with a tremendous crash. Startled screams echoed from the crowd—which, I realised, was growing—and the monster's eyes flashed before turning back to me.

Stop running away, Helga!

The monster snarled and swung again.

But this time, I was ready.

Heaving up my arm, a flash exploded from my hand and formed into a glimmering, protective wall. The fist cracked against it, and I gritted my teeth from the force. My muscles strained, but blood roared beneath my skin. It was a heat that made my biceps tingle and my spine straighten. Thunder exploded as the monster bashed its fists into the wall. But I stayed standing.

"Y'know—" I clacked my teeth together and met its glare "—you're seriously ugly, asshole!"

I sent my arms out so the monster was left flying backwards. It was momentary, but it was all that I needed. My fingers curled around the hilt and, wheeling my arm backwards, I sent the blade soaring through the air.

Swish! Swish! Swish!

The world froze until it became nothing but a whisper. I watched as the knife sliced through the air. The breath had become stuck in my throat. The pulse that had been rushing in my temples had lowered until it was pressed beneath my feet. I didn't hear the words that left the crowd's mouths, nor did I even feel the rain still pelting around me. Everything had stopped, except the knife.

Shing!

It lodged into the monster's torso.

Breath shuttered out past my lips.

The creature let out a high–pitched howl, its eyes flying to the knife in its flesh. The metal burned, until the knife was white against the creature's shadow. The world became a blur of terrible, horrible sounds. I covered my ears to hide from it.

Helga! Get out of there now!

I spun around and bolted. Everything suddenly seemed slippery, like too much energy, too much strength, had gathered that my body didn't know what to do with it. I felt overwhelmed and underused. The stress was becoming water in my eyes. But before I could take more than a few steps, I was swept from my feet by a warm gust of air. I landed roughly on the pavement and the impact knocked the wind from me. The collusion went straight into my stomach. I wrapped my arms around my torso to get the air back into my body.

Images lodged into my head and then spun without my permission. The glaring eyes, the shadowed body, the sounds of footsteps . . . the magic. It kept going and I was unable to stop it. Hair hung from my shoulders. I rolled onto my side. Blinked. Did . . . Did I just . . .

My body then acted on its own: in a flash, I was sat up straight with my arm outstretched in front of my body. The knife returned to my palm like it had been summoned and my fingers wrapped tight around it. Looking down at the blade, I caught glowing runes winking from existence.

I breathed loudly and my eyes found Nel.

She still sat in the tree, so I found her easily. She appeared equally as surprised as she was relieved at my success. When she realised I was looking back at her, she sent me an approving nod.

I felt my mouth moving into a crooked smile.

The pounding that had been echoed in my throat suddenly quietened, like it was sidestepping to allow me to hear the cheering and applauding coming from the crowd. I frowned, then turned in the direction. The rain was pouring down thicker so their faces were a little harder to tell apart. But lights from the street fell over their forms, igniting their expression. I scanned the sea of people and took in each of their smiles.

I blinked, unused to seeing expressions like that focused on me. It was . . . weird. People either avoided me or didn't notice me. It had been a thing— the thing. How everything worked for me. I wasn't used to receiving validation or causing relief. But right now, I was . . . was I liked?

The realisation became numbed when I recognised one of the faces: Arnold.

Panic sent my heart racing as millions of questions turned my mind into a buzz. How long had he been there? Did he see everything? Did he recognise me? I couldn't tell if he did. He was in too much shock. He wasn't smiling like everyone else. He was gawking. He stood amongst those who clapped, but his hands weren't moving. His mouth wasn't lifting. His eyes were wide in their disbelief.

And the longer that I stared, the more faces I began to recognise: Gerald, Sheena, Eugene—

Helga, we best be going.

I looked in Nel's direction, but she no longer occupied her previous position. I scanned the area for her when the sound of sirens suddenly hit me. That must have been what she had been referring to. I couldn't exactly disagree with her. Their lights began filling the air. It was probably a good time to get out of here.

I pushed myself up from the ground and turned to leave—

"Wait!"

I froze in my tracks but didn't turn. It became silent. No one dared to say anything. My ears, now more powerful than ever before, recognised the voice: Sheena.

"Please. Who are you?"

Let down again

I didn't reply right away.

Let down again
Let down again

Instead, I focused on controlling the frantic pounding in my wrists. Everything in me lifted until my stomach had gone into my chest and my heart in my throat. Thunder pounded like music. My eyebrows came together as I tried finding an answer for her question.

You know, you know where you are with
You know where you are with

Who was I? Who was I? I hadn't come up with a name. I couldn't use Helga. She was gone. Dead, buried. This was someone else. I was someone else. I could finally take off the mask that was Helga Pataki, embrace something different. Something better.

Floor collapsing
Floating, bouncing back

The possibilities flashed before my eyes. Someone else. Who? Someone who raced through your mind like a dream. Someone charming, but never helpless. She wasn't human. She was soft like the wind, dazzling like the sunset. Beautiful, but uncontrollable. I had another shot, another chance to play a role, and this time, I would do it right. I would still dance at the end of people's fingertips. No one would touch me, no one would understand. But rather than fear, they would admire. They would love, they would trust. The words were already collecting in my throat, I realised. They wanted to fly, they wanted to soar.

And one day
I am gonna grow wings
A chemical reaction
(You know where you are)

So I let them.

"Blue Jay." I turned back around, voice strong. "My name is Blue Jay."

Hysterical and useless
(You know where you are)
Hysterical and
(You know where you are)

Chapter Text

It's not like I hadn't stayed up late before.

I wasn't someone who typically stayed up til the early hours of the morning for the heck of it, but it also wasn't uncommon for me to complete homework that I'd been putting off until the night before it was due. Or bingeing shows so thoroughly that I lost track of time. There were even times when my fights with Bob had gotten to become so much that I'd slam the door and not come back for hours.

So, the concept of not having the best sleep? That wasn't a problem, nor foreign.

However, this? This sucked.

None of the above had happened last night; I hadn't stayed up late watching anything or panicking over overdue homework. I hadn't even seen Bob. What had kept me up, I'll admit, wasn't something I was familiar with; spending the night dressed in a tiny leotard, running around with a talking cat and—oh, yeah—fighting an alien.

Never, in my wildest dreams, did I ever factor that being something I would have to deal with. I wasn't even sure how it had happened—one minute, I had been in my room, pressing my face into my pillows, and then, next thing I knew, I was running around with magic powers.

Which, by the way, as cool as they were, were also inconvenient.

I mean, I thought it was a cliché, showing the superhero, the next day after finding out about their powers, forgetting about their strength and breaking things. But apparently, Hollywood wasn't too off the mark. It hadn't even been twenty–four hours since I'd gotten mine, and so far, I had broken the tap to my bathroom sink, my tea cup and a door handle.

That last one, I was still upset about. I had been so careful after shattering my tea cup and made sure to pinch things between my fingers if I needed them. But one glance at the time had me forgetting about my decision to be as delicate as possible, and in my rush to make it to the stop in time, I yanked the door open and found the handle between my hands . . . detached from the door.

Maybe I should just blame Miriam.

Nel had explained that I would get used to it eventually, it was just the first few days that would feel bizarre. She had also explained, once we got back home, how much that I needed my sleep. It kept you rejuvenated and alert and peaceful. But the minute that my head had hit the pillow and my eyes had shut, my mind found itself in a loop. Replaying last night's events—over and over and over again. The Mutant's gaze had seared itself into my soul. I couldn't unsee it, or its fists zooming for my face. Only this time, in the dream, I couldn't defend myself.

I shook my face.

And almost stumbled into a streetlight.

Criminy.

That was the fourth obstacle I'd almost walked straight into. Before, it had been a garbage bin, two separate cars and a parking meter. How was it possible that, one moment, I was an ultra–cool, super graceful, badass superhero, and then next, I was back to being clumsy, ditzy Helga? How was that fair?

This day had barely begun and yet already I knew that it would be a long one.

Shuffling around the corner, I noticed a hunched form down the next street. Superhero sight wasn't finding me, I was too tired from the lack of sleep. I had to blink a couple times and then squint to recognise the form—

Arnold.

He stood at the bottom of his steps, waiting for our bus, as usual. His bag was slung over one shoulder and his green gaze was locked on the screen in his hand. It was hooked to his earbuds. He looked bedazzled, bamboozled, with whatever he was watching—a funny video, I was sure.

A sensation suddenly grew as I approached him. It was a pressure, something that grew in the base of my throat and pushed down, like it needed to be released, or it would become an anchor. I frowned at the sensation. Where was it coming from?

Arnold didn't look up when I stopped a few feet away from him. I couldn't help the disappointment that sank through me. I didn't know what I was expecting, that maybe after having a night that I had last night, he would . . . I don't know, notice something about me. Not figure out what had happened, but just think that there was something different about me.

I knew that it was a good thing that I still was invisible to him. I didn't need anymore pressure then what I had been given. But a girl couldn't help but still dream that her crush would wake up one day and become enamoured with her.

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I avoided looking at him, casting my gaze across the road. The lack of sleep was really beginning to hit me. I could feel my mind slipping between the bars that I had built around myself, oozing between the cracks into a flowing stream. I had to be careful, make sure that I didn't let my guard down, and reveal something to someone. Not that people paid attention to me anyway, but still, couldn't be too careful.

'Oh, Helga, you look tired. Is there something wrong?'

'Nah, nothing much, Ms. Hartman. Just spent the night running around, dressed as a Victoria's Secret model, and killed an alien with a little knife. Oh, and did I mention that I broke a door today? Because I'm a worrying combination of strong and stupid? Anyway, how about that homework?'

'Um, what?'

Yeah, that wasn't going to go in my favour.

I then froze, stomach dropping, when I recognised a feline that was perched across from me. You see, where Arnold and I stood, waiting for the bus, across from us was a swing set. It had been a frequent escape for me when Bob became too unbearable. I would find myself here, sitting on the swings, and staring up at the skies.

Now though, in that spot, was Nel.

She stood at the swing set, across the road, and had her violet eyes trained on me.

Nel! My jaw dropped. What're you doing?!

I glanced to my side to make sure that Arnold hadn't noticed the cat from across the road. But thankfully, he still hadn't looked up. I released a small breath. Depending on how nosey he was, a purple–eyed cat might cause him confusion which would lead to questions. And questions would lead to observations; if Nel insisted on following me around, he would have more questions which could lead him down a rabbit hole that would eventually culminate in him—

Calm down, Helga, the boy hasn't even noticed you.

I made a face.

Really Helga, isn't it obvious? I turned back to her narrowed gaze and had to force myself not to roll my eyes. God, even with telepathy, her tone was still grating. I'm watching over you.

Right. Well, in her brain, I'm sure that made sense. But out here, in the real world, it fell apart like soggy newspaper.

I scrunched my face. Watching over me? Why?

She rolled her eyes as if the answer were obvious.

I pressed my lips together. Well, excuse me for not having a clue as to how the alien cat functioned.

Because, as your mentor, it is my job to make sure that nothing happens to you.

I rose a brow.

You? Protect me? Excuse me, but who, out of the two of us, delivered a major smackdown last night? I crossed my arms over my chest. What're you gonna do, scratch anyone you don't like the look of? Gosh, I feel so safe.

And then, she gave me a look. I'm sure it was meant to be intimidating. But here's the thing, given that this cat just claimed to want to look over me, while insulting me, her reaction to this all being a measly little look? The one that I could easily imagine coming from a grandparent, when you said something too vulgar. I laughed. I couldn't help it. This entire situation was so ridiculous, right down to this cat displaying such human qualities. She responded by sticking her nose in the air and looking away with a hmp! which only made me laugh harder.

Oh, what a do—

"Helga?"

I froze and my stomach squirmed. His voice was so warm and closer than what I remembered.

Don't look at him, don't look at him, don't—

I looked at him.

Darn it.

And found he was utterly captivating, with those vivid, glimmering eyes. They shone like a spring morning and when he smiled, it went straight through my chest.

"I didn't notice you there," he said.

I marvelled at how different he seemed; yesterday, it was apparent how uncomfortable I had made him. He would shuffle his weight and look away from me if he wasn't ignoring my presence altogether. But now, he seemed quite comfortable with meeting my eye. He even was throwing in a smile, for good measure.

It made me wonder and when I wondered, I spaced. It was embarrassing, how quickly my thoughts went from 'he must be up to something, he keeps looking at me' to 'hey wow, the way he looks is . . . he's got the prettiest eyes'. I hated it. Trust him to keep me acting like this. Even after becoming a superhero last night, Arnold still made me act like a dumb, love–struck teenage girl (yes, I was perfectly aware that I am, in fact, a teenager and a female, however that's beside the point).

Criminy Helga, you bloody idiot—stop looking at him!

"Well, of course you didn't, football head," I snapped and held onto my bag straps as I glanced away. Thankfully, Nel had since scrammed, so I didn't have to worry about him seeing her. "You were too busy with your dumb phone."

Shit, had that come out aggressive? That totally sounded aggressive. I hadn't meant to sound like a jealous girlfriend, bitter that her boyfriend wasn't giving her attention. I had meant it in a . . . well, I don't know, but not like that!

Christ, what if I did sound jealous? What if he thought I was super clingy and annoying? What if he saw through my lies and looked at me like I was a dumb, pathetic girl with a monster crush?

Well, what else, Helga—he'd be creeped out. Mega creeped out. He'd point at me, be all like, "Ew, you disgusting freak!" then run away and never talk to me and tell everyone else how crazy–obsessed I was with him and they'd all be disgusted and Phoebe would stop being my friend, then my life would be over and I'd have to quit being a superhero, then the Mutants would take over, and everyone would die, but then they'd hear about my crush and make a song about it and it would spread across the galaxy and—

"Right, sorry," Arnold chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. I blinked, coming back to earth. "I was just watching this video Gerald sent me last night and—"

"Whoa, football head, I don't remember asking for your life's story."

Arnold stopped, his eyes widening like the thought had genuinely not occurred to him. That I didn't want to hear from him, that is. Or about whatever it is that he was going to tell me. He pursed his lips together and lowered his gaze to his phone with a slight nod.

I cringed. Christ, I was the world's biggest asshole. Way to go Helga, now he'll surely like you. Not that I had even planned on accomplishing that. I just didn't want him to pick up on the mental detour that I was taking. Can't have him falling down the asking questions rabbit hole. Cause, you know, a big part about being a superhero was keeping it a secret.

Still, curiosity scratched at my mind.

"Uh, what did Gerald send you though?"

Of course, that small bit of curiosity was nothing compared to the overwhelming dread sitting in my chest. I wasn't psychic but I could wager a pretty hefty bet on what it was that had Arnold so captivated with his phone.

His face snapped up and he suddenly looked like a kid on Christmas. I clamped my mouth shut. He was smiling at me and criminy, was it beautiful.

I looked away when I became aware that my cheeks had become hot.

Arnold, as usual, didn't realise the effect that he had on me. Or he just didn't care.

"Gerald managed to get footage from last night," he gushed and stepped closer. "It's of that girl and the monster—can you believe it?!"

Yep, I was right.

Arnold had a video of me.

I gulped, ready to chuck my bag and run for the hills (or wherever it was that Nel had run to). I barely could handle talking to Arnold on the regular (not that it happened frequently). Let alone about women with supernatural abilities that could take down aliens twice her size. Worse, women who just last night, realised that they had powers that made them fast enough to race across cities in minutes, durable enough to land on their feet from a three storey drop and strong enough to yank sinks apart when they weren't paying attention. And they just so happened to discover all of this from a cat that approached them last night, speaking in a British accent.

Women like me.

I mean, I was a masterful liar and all, but when it came to Arnold, Pinocchio woulda made a better liar then me.

Still, there was a part of me—an evil part—that wondered what he thought about me—I mean, Blue Jay. This situation was so weird, it was something I'd expect to read in a comic book, or a—

Wait.

When had Arnold's face gotten so close?

At some point, during my mental escapade, Arnold had shifted his phone under my nose so I could watch the video. But he had also moved in closer which left his face inches from mine. I gulped and felt my entire body burst into flames. I wasn't a person who enjoyed standing close to others, but right now, I couldn't find that usual defensiveness.

Neither of us were touching, but I could feel his body heat along my cheek. The scent from his skin scattered across my face—musk. Wood. Vanilla. What body wash did he use? It was delicious. My gaze combed across his features. His eyes were locked on the screen and his lips had formed into a big dopey smile. My stomach did another flip. Gosh, he was just so handsome.

I turned my attention back to the phone.

The footage was shaky. You could hear a heavy breathing from the person filming the scene and the collective gasps and chatter from around them. It was nighttime and despite the streetlights, the shadows were thick and rolled across the ground like ink.

But still, through it all, you could see . . . her.

She was bright like lightning. Snow against the darkness. Her fists were tight, expression hard. My stomach curled. It was so different watching from a perspective that wasn't your own. You couldn't see the panic or experience the fear. Instead, you only saw a determined, young woman, set on taking this creature down.

The wind picked up and swept her hair over her shoulders. Her eyes burned. The fire in my cheeks cooled when she launched the knife. In my head, it had gone for hours. I could still remember how my pulse had throbbed in my ears as I waited for everything to go wrong. But in reality, it had all happened in seconds. I grimaced. The Mutant howled when the knife lodged into its flesh, and suddenly all I could see was my nightmare.

"I know," Arnold said and when I looked, he was already watching me. His eyes were pressed with concern, soft–looking, as he paused the video. His gaze went over my face, finding something that made his lips move to the side before he shoved his phone into his pocket. "It's a little graphic, huh?"

He had misunderstood my reaction, but I couldn't correct his assumption. I wasn't about to go around telling everyone that I was the girl from last night.

All I could manage was a short and simple, "Wow."

What else could I say? I had just witness myself killing a living thing. I knew that I should feel proud, I had saved someone in doing it. And it was a Mutant, it wanted to kill me. But I couldn't stop the guilt. At what I had done, what that made me. I crossed my arms over my chest. I still wasn't sure how to feel about it.

"She's amazing, isn't she?" Arnold said and when I looked, he was already smiling. It made the edges of his eyes crinkle.

I wanted to sigh.

Arnold thought I was speechless because of Blue Jay. Not because I'd . . . done that.

To be fair, this whole thing was bizarre. Downright fictional. Not only were aliens real, but apparently, so were superheroes. I should be happy that Arnold was choosing to focus on her and not—

Wait a minute.

I looked at him—really looked at him—and recognised something.

"Um, football head," I said, cheeks already beginning to turn warm. "What do you actually think of this girl?"

It was not a smart choice to ask this. Because once I asked, then I would receive my answer. And depending on that answer, that could result in something either really okay, or really, really bad.

And that's exactly what happened.

"What do you mean?" he asked, cheeks dark, as he suddenly became unable to look me in the face.

The bad thing, that is.

Oh.

Oh, crud.

"Uh, not that you're not justified or anything, because, um, wow, that was totally neat and awesome and—geeze, who woulda thought? Real life superhero and all, but um—" I cringed. Arnold had begun looking at me strangely. "Well, you're only focusing on her and not, well, whatever that is and . . . you seem to kinda admire her . . ."

I trailed off because when I said those words, they flipped a switch. I suddenly could hear my words, imagine my face, from another perspective. Criminy, how I must have sounded. I was trying so hard to be casual, to be a cool girl who wasn't really bothered. But it didn't matter how I tried dressing it up. It was obvious what I was asking: do you have a crush on this girl?

And that wasn't a cool, casual thing to ask.

"I, uh, yeah, I guess that's right," he cast his gaze to the park across from us. His eyes softened and the corners of his mouth lifted. "I don't really . . . know what happened last night—no one does, despite what they say—but whatever it was . . . she saved us. She—Blue Jay—she protected us against that thing—whatever it was. And I . . . it's hard not to admire that, y'know?"

I could tell you the moment that it was all over.

It wasn't when he said those words, or even when his cheeks began turning red. It wasn't his voice softening into a warm, pleasant sound. Not even the fact that he had become so enamoured with watching his video, that he didn't hear anything around him unless it was blaring to get his attention. It was his eyes—they were soft, gentle. They had taken on that same look that he got whenever he watched Lila in the mornings. Like he was looking up at her, even when he towered over her. Like he was ready to dedicate so much of his time and life to making her smile. The tenderness that he felt became so strong that when his voice wrapped around her name, it pushed her so high, that she became his oath.

He looked at her like he looked at Lila, the girl he had a crush on.

Which meant that Arnold had a crush on Blue Jay.

Arnold had a crush on . . . me.

My entire body flushed red—my cheeks, my face and my . . . knees? How the hell were my knees blushing? I shook my face. No, that didn't matter. I didn't care. All that I had room in my head was that realisation: that Arnold . . . had a thing for me.

He froze like I had said his name. His eyes darted across my face and his smile dropped. I tried not to be sour about that. He looked like he had realised who he was talking to . . . and regretted it.

"I–I mean, n–not that I, well, y–yeah . . ." he trailed off, nudging his toe against the pavement. His Adam's apple bobbed, and his gaze became shy. It dropped and scattered across the ground, and he wrapped his hands around his bag straps.

I stared at him, feeling like I was experiencing yesterday all over again. Where, I was making him so uncomfortable that he could barely look me in the face. That he was too polite to tell me that he hated talking to me, that he would rather be anywhere else if it didn't have me in it. And I realised that nothing had changed—not to him anyway. I was still Helga Pataki to him, and I always would be. The feelings that he had for Blue Jay were directed at an entirely different person. A person who was beautiful, tall and kind—his type. He had never been into girls like me; girls who weren't smiling even on our best days; who only talked when it was with their fists; who preferred to stay in the shadows. He wanted a girl from the sunshine.

AKA, not me.

I felt myself mirroring his actions, turning away so I could stare across the park.

It became silent as we waited for the bus.

The pressure was back, rolling in my throat. I realised that it was words, everything that I wanted to say to him. Arnold, I wanted to say. It's me, Arnold! Your dream girl! The one that makes you so excited that you can't look away from your phone! The one so dazzling that you look at her like you look at Lila! The one who makes you forget about the aliens, because she makes you feel so much good. I can be different!

He was watching me.

I bit my lip and ignored him.

He didn't like me. It was a good reminder; I wasn't the one for him. I had never been the one for him. I needed to get my head out of the clouds. I was being ridiculous, entertaining a thought that I had abandoned long ago.

Besides, I reminded myself. I had much bigger issues then a boy liking me. My life was about to change in more ways than one and I needed to prepare myself for it.

I nodded to myself, deciding that it didn't matter about his feelings for Blue Jay because, as far as he was concerned, we were different people. There were no similarities.

It was a dizzying thought though; that not only was Little Miss Perfect my rival, but somehow, I was.

. . . which just made everything really fucking complex.

The bus became stuffed with talk of the mysterious Blue Jay and her epic battle last night.

People were shouting across the bus, overhearing discussions about her, and chiming in to share their own views. Gerald had been in the middle of a debate with a dark–haired kid, when Arnold and I had gotten on. He had looked right past me to his best friend and a smile lit his face. He moved aside his stuff and the boys did their lame handshake before diving into their own conversation about it all.

Rolling my eyes, I settled into a seat that was far away from them.

Pressing my back against the window, I wrapped one hand around the seat bar and dug through my bag for my headphones, when I heard the conversations.

"—where do you think she came from—"

"—maybe she's an alien—"

"—I heard she's from the government—"

"—do you think that she can fly—"

I tightened my hold.

"—maybe she's a part of the Avengers—"

"—Serena, the Avengers are fictional—"

"—you don't know that, Molly—"

"—what was that thing she was fighting—"

I yanked my hand away with a small yelp. I hadn't realised that I had been applying strength that increased with every theory, every word that had been thrown around. The metal had caved from beneath my fingers and left behind a rather crude–looking mould. I blushed, feeling like everyone was staring at me, even though a small part of me registered that the opposite was true. I moved before I could think too deeply about it, heart hammering in my throat. I took the first spot that I noticed was empty. Slamming myself down so my back was against the window, I held a hand over my heart. It was pumping wildly. Because, oh my god, that had been close. I needed to be more wary of my actions; I hadn't even noticed that the bar had been shifting beneath my hand. I just needed to lose control at the wrong time and—

Green eyes found mine.

I stopped and realised where I was sat.

Oh, no.

I had been so hasty in trying to make my escape that I hadn't actually registered where the spare spot that I took was. Two rows behind from them. Gerald was rambling, having not noticed anything, but he had since shifted his position. He sat in his original seat, but Arnold had apparently switched, moving to the seat behind where he could sit with—ugh—Lila.

I forced my hands into my lap. I didn't want anymore incidents. But come on, since when had she been here? I mustn't have noticed that we had already stopped—which was ironic, considering how much better my senses had become since last night. I wanted to look away because I didn't need for the knife to keep hammering into my chest. But I couldn't wash away how close that they sat, how there was a natural forwardness that oozed from Arnold's body. She seemed oblivious and listened to Gerald babble, nodding along as she soaked up his words. I couldn't believe her, having Hillwood's Adonis in the palm of her hand, and she didn't even seem interested . . .

Hillwood's Adonis who was looking at me.

I froze, finding that yes, that was true—Arnold's eyes . . . they were on me. I didn't know why, and I didn't know when. But his bright eyes were there, pinning me in my spot, and the space between his brows was furrowing. I smushed my bag to my chest, feeling self–conscious. Had he seen what had happened? I forced my eyes to stay away from the crushed seat bar. I didn't want to unintentionally drag his attention there, in case he hadn't actually noticed. But why else would he be looking in my direction?

I glanced up again to find that his gaze had turned back to his conversation with Gerald and Lila. The grip around my bag tightened. Lila. It was always her.

"So, where do you think she came from, Gerald?"

Gerald smirked, raising his chin.

"I'm so glad you asked, Arnold," he said. I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. "There are multiple theories as to where she actually came from. Personally, I believe that she and that monster are both experiments from the illuminati."

My jaw dropped. What?

Lila voiced my thoughts. "What?"

"Think about it!" Gerald burst and held up a finger as his eyes danced between them. "We all know how the illuminati are and their thirst for power—who's to say they haven't been doin' a little experimenting to make the perfect weapon? That monster thing is an earlier version, where it was all big and scary and ugly and stuff, but what's more scary then a big, bad monster that could tear your apart? A sexy girl!"

. . . I honestly didn't know how to respond to that. There was so much in his statement, that I couldn't focus on only one section. I knew, however, that I was blushing.

"Gerald—"

"No, no—hear me out!" he continued. "She can do all that and a bag of chips, but she was hot while doing it! Do you know how dangerous that could be? A hot, sexy weapon? I mean, we've all seen Beyoncé's Run the World music video, right? The 'My persuasion can build nations' part? What if they took that literally? And made her sexy as a defence, so while you're distracted by her sexiness, she can sneak up and kill you! It could totally happen! And did you see her strength? She's not normal."

Yeah, no shit, dumbass.

Lila was shaking her head.

"Gerald," she sighed and crossed her arms. "I think that you have been watching ever too many conspiracy theory videos . . . and Beyoncé."

Gerald shot her a dirty look. "You can never watch too much Beyoncé."

Okay, he had her there.

"How would they have made her so fast then?" Arnold questioned, stroking his chin. "And strong?"

For the second time, my jaw dropped. Please tell me that Arnold did not believe this.

"Easy," Gerald looked pleased that someone was taking his theory seriously. He shifted so he could turn his attention onto him, which Lila scoffed at. Gerald ignored her. "Genetic engineering, man."

"I find that ever so hard to believe," Lila remarked. "I mean, last time I checked genetic engineering in humans was illegal, let alone impossible."

"Ah! But that, my dear friend," Gerald gave her a wink. She rose a brow, "is what they want you to think! C'mon, the illuminati's always starting shit. She's not an alien, but an experiment from the illuminati sent to fix their mistake of the previous experiment."

"Well, what about her powers, then? How would you explain that? Or is that also the result of genetic engineering?"

I blinked when three pairs of eyes swivelled around to stare at me. What the hell? Why were they staring at me like that?

Then, I realised that the voice that had been poking holes in Gerald's theories had been mine.

And somehow, my mouth was still going, "I mean, I'm not exactly sure what the extent of genetic engineering would be, but I'm pretty sure throwing up magical shields is not one of the perks that come with it. Strength and speed? Sure. But magic? Absolutely not."

Lila and Arnold stared at me—gaping. I wanted to be angry because I hated when people did that—look at me—but I couldn't blame them. I hadn't gone out of my way to talk to them since we were in Mr. Simmon's class. I hid behind walls to kept us separated. Even when we stood in the same room, we were on different planets. Who knew that thing that would disintegrate all that, was a mysterious superhero who looked like she had fallen right out of a comic book?

Although, to be fair, stranger things had happened.

To me, at least.

Gerald narrowed his eyes.

"Well, what do you know about genetic engineering, then?" he practically sneered.

Arnold gave him a disapproving frown which he ignored. Lila, on the other hand, kept her eyes on me, a slightly impressed look on her face.

"Uh, apparently more then you, Tall Hair Boy," I responded. "Genetic engineering enhances human capabilities; it doesn't create new ones."

There was a beat of silence, and Arnold slowly turned back to me with an indecipherable look on his face.

It made me flush and it slowly sunk in that somehow, I had entered a debate with Gerald Johansson about a superhero's origins.

About my origins.

Yeah, way to go, Helga. You wanna get people off your back and stop them from asking questions? Keep answering their questions, I'm sure it'll work out in your favour.

Typically, I kept to myself when I was on the bus. I had my hoodie drawn up and my earbuds in. It was a look that screamed, Stop! Turn around, I am not interested in talking to you. But as a heat crawled across my features, I became aware that my hoodie was no longer drawn. It had fallen in my mission to escape from my earlier seat so now, as I sat there behind Arnold, sunlight spilled into my eyes and hair.

Fuck, no wonder they were looking at me like that. You could tell from a mile away that I was blushing.

Lila pressed her hands to her mouth as soft pearls of laughter escaped her lips. The sound made me pause as a nervousness stirred in my chest. Was she laughing at my blushing?

"She has a fair point, Gerald," she admitted and flashed me an approving grin. "Your theory does have ever so many holes in it."

Oh.

Gerald's jaw went slack and his cheeks became a rosy pink. "You're taking her side?"

"There aren't any sides, Gerald," Arnold tried interjecting but was ignored.

"Why not?" Lila shrugged. "She raises a fair point. Besides, if this Blue Jay was sent from the illuminati, where is her gun? She only had a knife, from what I could see. No gun. I sincerely doubt that they would send her to take down that creature without a gun but a knife. If it was the illuminati, that is."

Yeah, the illuminati wasn't stupid enough to send Blue Jay into battle without a gun. Nel, on the other hand—

"Yeah?" Gerald narrowed his eyes at us both and crossed his arms. "Then where do you think she came from, if not from the illuminati then?"

Well, done Helga. You couldn't have kept your big mouth shut. Nooo, that would've been too easy.

"Aren't we being a bit hasty in trying to figure out where she came from?" Lila questioned with a slight frown. "I mean, we've only seen her once, yet there's an ungodly amount of theories about her—that she's a failed experiment, a weapon, an alien, even a ghost. I think that we are focusing far too much on the questions and intricate backstories instead of what matters—she saved us last night. From whatever that thing had been. Whatever she is, a lot more people would have been rushed to the hospital if she didn't show up. We should be showing more gratitude, rather than hounding her for answers."

Lila, I could kiss you.

Clearing my throat, I nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, ditto. Who the hell cares where she came from? Her actions speak louder, in my opinion."

And my opinion was obviously the superior.

The corners of Lila's mouth lifted into a slow grin.

"Besides," she continued. "I would much rather find out about that thing she was fighting. Seems positively frightening."

Never mind, Lila.

Frowning, Gerald opened his mouth to continue the debate when Arnold cleared his throat.

"So Gerald," he said a little loudly. "What do you think of Blue Jay, then? As a person, I mean."

Gerald paused.

"Well," he rested his chin between his thumb and index finger, looking up in thought. "She is a babe."

Three jaws dropped in unison.

And Gerald became the victim to three objections.

"—are you serious—"

"—this again—"

"—she saved us—"

"—and all you can think about is that she's hot—"

"—so degrading—"

"Alright, alright!" Gerald held up his hands to silence our protests. "Okay, fair enough. But c'mon, can you blame me? Did you see what she was wearing? Or, more specifically, the lack of it?"

He waggled his eyebrows and for the hundredth time that day, blood rushed to my face. It was bad enough that I had to fight in that skimpy stuff, I didn't need Gerald pointing it out to me.

"Not really," Lila admitted with a shrug. "I was ever so distracted by the monster twice her size with horns coming from its head."

Gerald shot her a look then turned to Arnold. "C'mon buddy, I can't be the only one who noticed! You had to have looked!"

Lila and I both raised our eyebrows at Arnold and his cheeks glowed from our accusatory glares. His Adam apple bobbed as he averted his gaze to his folded hands.

"Uh, well, it's not like I didn't notice, per say . . ." his eyes darted between Lila and I before going back to his lap. "She was definitely beautiful, sure. I just wasn't focused primarily on that."

Criminy.

I reminded myself that it wasn't me that he was talking about. That he had a face in his mind and it wasn't mine. But christ, was it hard not to take those words personally. To not imagine that he secretly meant them for me, rather than my alter ego. It felt like someone had set fireworks off in my chest. I ducked my face and scratched at my cheek in an attempt to hide the redness. I was aware of how pathetic I was acting, but I couldn't help it. He still meant his words for a version of me, just not me m—

Someone was watching me.

Frowning, I looked up to Lila's gaze.

She had a slightly narrowed look on her face. The space between her brows was furrowed and her face was slightly tilted. She was confused as to why I was reacting and why I was blushing when Arnold had been talking about someone else.

A good reminder that no one would ever mistake me for Blue Jay.

Flushing, I turned away to glower out the window. Of course, it would be Lila of all people who would catch me acting like that.

Lila stayed watching me. I could see her reflection in the glass. Her eyebrow had lifted. I was about to tell her to mind her own when I found my attention pulled back to the boys.

"Ooh, looks like our wittle baby Arnold did notice some things about her as well," Gerald sung teasingly.

Gerald had reached over the seat bar to send a playful punch to Arnold's shoulder. He had a sly grin on his face which grew when Arnold's cheeks burned darker. I ducked my face as Gerald continued teasing Arnold. The poor boy's cheeks had become so red that his face resembled a tomato . . . or a red banana.

"Helga?"

I glanced up into Lila's confused stare. She was examining my own red cheeks and panicked face. I wanted to pull my hoodie onto my face to cover the redness, but the damage had already been done. And because she had to speak so loudly, the boys had paused in their teasing to look at me.

"Are you alright?" she asked, oblivious. "You look ever so red."

Lila, I hate you.

My heart throbbed underneath Arnold's gaze.

Gulping, I turned away. "Uh, y–y–yeah, of c–course, I'm fine—why the hell wouldn't I be?"

Mentally, I kicked myself. If earlier, my behaviour hadn't been enough to convince them that something was most definitely not alright, then my stammering surely was. I wrapped my hands around my bag. Where were my lying skills? I was supposed to be good at this.

I made everything worse for myself when I glanced up and met Arnold's confused frown.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked.

Oh my God, could he be anymore of a dunce? What was I supposed to say? Oh, for the most part. I was just approached last night by a talking black cat who turned me into the superhero that you're all sitting here gossiping about and that Gerald thinks is a conspiracy to take down governments through being sexy and now I'm the only thing preventing an apocalypse and oh yeah, I'm still so in love with you after all these years, did you wanna grab some fries?

I didn't see that working out in my favour.

But before I could scramble together another flimsy response, something over his shoulders caught my eye.

Hallelujah!

I sat up straight. "O–Oh, lookie there! Would you look at that? We're here!"

Everyone's eyes followed where I was pointing over their shoulders and out the windows, but before they could say anything, I was leaping to my feet and hightailing it outta there. The doors had just shuttered open when I basically tore through them to put as much distance between myself and the bus as possible.

And yet, despite it all, I could still hear Gerald whistling.

"Damn, she moves fast."

The talk of Blue Jay on the bus had been a buzz in comparison to the hallways, where it felt like an outright roar.

The minute that I stepped through the doors, I was hit with a multitude of voices that were so thick, it was like walking into a wall. They were recounting last night's events then tossing around questions, re–enactments and elaborate backstories. I frowned when, on more than one occasion, I heard comparisons to Wonder Woman.

And then a yawn escaped me.

Fuck, I was tired.

That dumb cat had taken it upon herself to wake me up by pouncing onto my face. She had brushed off my annoyance and stated that it could have been worse—she could have used her claws instead. And then, she had the nerve to lecture me about my sleeping habits—apparently, if I went to sleep earlier then I wouldn't spend so much time being grouchy.

If that wasn't the pot calling the kettle black.

I wouldn't even be in this situation if it wasn't for her.

She had then proceeded to showcase her wonderful, sunshine of a personality by nitpicking everything and anything that she could think of.

Particularly, my hoodie.

For whatever reason, Nel had decided that my black hoodie was Public Enemy 1#.

I clenched my jaw at the memory. Dumb idiot cat . . .

"Helga, is that hoodie apart of your uniform?"

"Huh?"

Looking away from my reflection, I shot Nel a look over my shoulder. She had perched herself on the windowsill on the right side of my room. She had complained about that earlier as well, muttering about the clothes that covered the floors and the vanity that was full of junk that I didn't even recognise anymore. The bed was distorted, the blankets having been tossed aside in my haste to get up, and pillows were on the floor.

Nel was eyeing my hoodie which popped out from the collar of my blazer.

"Uh, why does it matter?"

She wrinkled her nose. "It just looks, well, sloppy, doesn't it?"

Oh, brother.

Rolling my eyes, I turned back to the mirror above my vanity. It was large and white, a curvy design that made me feel like a Princess getting ready for her photoshoot. It had been Olga's until she fell in love with a vanity that was sleeker and darker, with lights and everything. I hadn't particularly been interested in owning my own vanity but hey, it was a place I could make more room to stuff things into the drawers, so why not?

I grabbed my hairbrush and tugged it through my strands to tame it into its usual style.

"Look, Nel, you may be my—erm—mentor or whatever—" I grimaced when I yanked a sensitive spot. "—but you are most certainly not my stylist. Got it?"

Especially not after what I had to wear last night.

"I'm not your maid either, Helga," she frowned. "You should be able to get out of bed without me—you're sixteen after all." I rolled my eyes. "And stop rolling your eyes. It's rude."

"Oh, please," I scoffed and tossed my brush away to look at Nel in the reflection. "Like you haven't rolled your eyes at least twenty times this hour alone."

"Well, one can hardly blame me," she responded. "When half the things that come out of your mouth are truly imprudent."

I gritted my teeth, seriously fighting the urge to smack this stupid cat. Why had I agreed to become a Guardian again?

The look on my face must've expressed how I felt because without another word, Nel sniffed and turned away. My jaw dropped, was she serious? And I was the immature one?

I turned back to my reflection, scowling.

My face wasn't anything like Blue Jay. It wasn't made up or good looking or well–shaped. Her hair was a beaming shade of blonde that looked like it had been collected from the skies. She had high and dark eyebrows whereas, mine were so thick that I had to pluck them once a week. Her skin was smooth and flawless, looking like satin, and mine was inhabited by tiny spots. She had plump lips that were like pillows, whereas my top lip was too big and made me conscious of my smile. I wasn't a make up girl, but even if I were, I would stay away from lipstick, since it would only highlight the unevenness.

I lowered my gaze to the pin on my desk.

Blue Jay didn't have zits. She didn't have uneven skin, or odd shaped lips, or eyebrows so expressive, that it made me feel like a guy. She was perfect, without even trying.

I pulled my hair into its two ponytails and stuffed my pin into my pocket. I wished I could cover up the patches on my face with concealer, but I was already using so much to cover the bags under my eyes. The tube wasn't big enough to begin with and I was already running out. I had to save it for urgent situations.

Turning back around to Nel, I tugged on the hem of my blazer to straighten out any wrinkles then pushed back my shoulders. Apparently, she had gotten over her hissy fit as she was already watching me.

I forced a smile. "So, how do I look?"

She stared, unimpressed.

"Those rings underneath your eyes are big enough to rival those of Saturn," she then paused. "Oh, and also like you're about to mug me."

I threw my hands to my sides. "Would you quit it about the hoodie?!"

Snatching the bag from my bed, I marched and then slammed the door behind me. I huffed. Like Nel had any right to lecture me on what I was wearing. So what if I looked a little sketch? I happen to like my hoodie, thank you very much.

I had some time to spare, so I didn't hurry down the stairs. I was still pretty drowsy from having a cat pounce onto my face at six in the morning. But then, I heard chatter coming from downstairs and quirked a brow. It was never loud in the morning. Normally, Miriam was passed out and Bob had already left for work. Even with Olga back, the mornings weren't particularly rowdy.

I paused when I reached the living room. Bob was here. I blinked. He was crouched in front of the TV. He had his back to me, so he didn't notice that I was even there (not that looking at me had done much before). But he was flicking through the channels and muttering to himself.

I caught a few words. "Criminy . . . reporters these days . . . only celebrities gettin' knocked up . . ."

I drew my brows together before deciding that I didn't care and headed for the kitchen—where most of the noise was coming from.

I stopped when I entered, feeling my jaw drop, and then blinked a few times. But it all remained. The scene, that is. Miriam was not, for one, passed out. No, she was actually—I kid you not—cooking.

I blinked. Then rubbed my eyes. Then blinked again.

She hadn't noticed me as she was leaning over the stove. I couldn't see what it was that she was cooking (or attempting to cook. This was still Miriam), but the sizzling and spits and scents confirmed it to be bacon.

My stomach growled as I inhaled the scent. I surprised myself by actually wanting to stay back for breakfast. But I knew that likely, Miriam would just burn it. She wasn't even paying attention to the food. She was watching Olga, who was practically spinning around the kitchen like she was a ballerina.

Olga's hair was pulled from her bare face. She had a wide grin as she read over the newspaper that rustled in her hands. Excitement was twinkling in her gaze, and I realised that I hadn't actually seen her look like that for a while.

"A–Annd then w–what happened?" Miriam stuttered, eyes wide.

Olga chuckled and turned back to the current page.

"Well, let's see— 'Witnesses state that the mysterious woman identified herself as Blue Jay, but left without answering further questions, making a hasty exit into the night'—Ooh, how mysterious!"

The realisation was a fist to the face. I knew what they were acting so weird about—it was me.

"I–It s–s–sounds so unbelievable," Miriam said and cupped her face. "Liike one of those m–m–movies B love so much."

On second thoughts, I didn't need lunch today. Nel would bite my head off for skipping a meal, but I could pull through for today. Because to be honest, I did not want to hear about last night. I was already slowly coming around to accepting what had happened. I didn't want to add someone else's judgements on top of everything and ruin the illusion of safety that I had made for myself. And I most certainly didn't need to hear it from the two brainless—

"Oh, baby sis, what a surprise!" I stopped and mentally berated my so–called luck. "You got up without me!"

Act normal, Helga, I told myself. Do what you normally would.

I schooled my expression into that familiar formation that made me feel like a wall, where nothing could get in and nothing could get out, and turned around. They were already watching me.

"It's not like I'm incapable of functioning without you," I told her and crossed my arms. "What're you two chuckleheads losin' your marbles over anyway?"

Of course, anyone with a brain cell could figure out what they were talking about.

Olga's eyes practically popped out from their sockets as her smile widened. The paper crinkled between her fingers as she raced to my side.

"Why, little sis!" she shoved the paper under my nose in a wild gesture. "Haven't you heard? Well, I guess you wouldn't since you spent the entire night in your room, but there was some type of attack last night! And some guy was saved by a real–life superhero! Can you believe it?! A female superhero, at that!"

The words on the page trembled from how hard she was shaking. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed the paper from her hands so I could actually read the title.

Hillwood's Very Own Wonder Woman?!

I blinked. Wonder Woman?

Then, I scowled. Oh, come on, WonderWoman? Why Wonder Woman? I don't even like Wonder Woman! I mean, sure, our armour—if you could even call it that—were kinda similar looking—thanks Nel, you little rat—but other than that, we looked nothing alike. Why couldn't I be Superman? Or Batman? That would've been so cool, he was so badass. Instead, I get some sissy, bikini–wearing Princess, who's only fans were teenaged boys' way too aware of how little she wore.

Imagine that!

Pushing my lips together, I shoved the paper into Olga's chest. She slightly stumbled and raised her eyebrows at my reaction.

Unbothered, I held out my palm. "Did you make lunch for me or not?"

I honestly didn't have any time for this. The bus was going to get here soon and I still hadn't even left the house. And I really didn't want to have to go chasing it down the street today.

My question had been reasonable, but Olga reacted like I had just murdered a puppy.

Her jaw dropped and her hands rushed to cover her mouth. "Why Helga, you cannot be serious!"

I rose my brow. "What?"

"Baby sis!" Olga clutched my shoulders and dragged me close enough that I couldn't look away from her eyes. "Aren't you even a little curious about what happened last night?"

And you wanna know something? I wasn't even lying when I responded with a, "No."

I had gotten enough answers last night.

Olga's forehead crumbled as she looked at me like she was disappointed.

I shoved her away. "Alright, back it up, Olga! Criminy, I'm trying to breathe here!"

"Helga, honey," Miriam then stepped forward. She was clutching her spatula like she was approaching a ghost that she was seeking out to whack. "Last night, t–there was a–a—"

"I know what happened, Miriam," I interrupted her and put my hands on my hips. "I'm aware of the attack, I just don't care."

Miriam and Olga stared.

"Don't care?!" They repeated, looking equally horrified.

Well, shit.

That hadn't been the right response.

"Yeah," I nodded. "Whatever happens out there is where it belongs. It has nothing to do with me. Now, I'm on my way to go to school, so I need lunch. Did you make it Olga, or am I making it myself?"

They stared at me, looking like they wanted to say something, when—

"Criminy—finally!"

Bob suddenly shouted from the living room, so loud and sudden that we all turned to the cheering man. He pumped his fist in the air before throwing himself backwards into his armchair. His eyes were glued to the two news anchors.

I rose a brow. Since when was Bob excited to watch the news? I had just assumed he was excited to watch another commercial for his business.

Apparently not.

Groaning, I pinched my nose. Had I entered some weird dimension? Where cats could talk, aliens invaded, and Bob actually wanted to watch the news? He hated the news almost as much as he hated soap operas. Sure, he watched them, but only to keep complaining about them.

Miriam set the spatula down on the bench and crossed the kitchen to the living room.

"What'd you find, B?" she asked as she stopped next to his chair.

"Ooh, daddy, daddy!" Olga's shoulder rammed into mine as she followed Miriam's footsteps. She rushed and came to a stop on his unoccupied side. "Did you get it?!"

I rolled my eyes and turned around to switch the stove off. This was why Miriam wasn't allowed to cook anymore.

"Miriam, Olga—" Bob smirked as he addressed his family. "I just managed to find a half decent report on that hubbub last night."

My heart stopped and I whirled around. What'd he say?

Olga let loose an excited squeal.

"Oh, Daddy, you're an absolute genius!" she threw her arms around his neck, earning a small chuckle from him. "Now we'll get to see her in action!"

What an asskisser, I thought with a roll of my eyes.

Wait a minute—

That last part hit me. See her in action?

That wasn't good news. I mean, us Pataki's weren't exactly a closely–knit family (hell, 'household' was a better descriptor), but even if we weren't close, who was to say that they wouldn't recognise me? Helga may not have looked like Blue Jay, but come on, this bunch had raised me. Surely, they would recognise something about her!

I shook my head. I had to prevent them from seeing that footage.

I placed my fists onto my hips and stepped towards the small crowd around Bob's chair.

"Hey, what about my lunch?" I demanded. "Can someone please—"

"Miriam," Bob didn't look away from the TV as he addressed the woman. "Get the girl her lunch, would'cha? Miriam—hey, Miriam!"

I almost hit myself. Oh yeah, great job, Helga.

Miriam jumped from her thoughts.

"Huh?" she blinked then glanced at me. "Oh, in a minute, honey—after this report, m'kay?"

I actually did hit myself that time.

Okay, here came Attempt 2# at keeping the Pataki's from watching the footage of me.

I marched until I was standing in front of the television and spread out my arms. Bob frowned and leaned to the side in an attempt to keep watching the report. But when he still couldn't make anything out, he scowled at me. I didn't budge. His dirty looks were a regular occurrence, so they hardly got a reaction anymore.

"Listen, little missy, I don't know what's got you so wound tight, but whatever it is you're going through, go through it somewhere else! Can't you see I'm tryna watch the report?"

"But Dad—"

"No 'but's. Now get outta the way so I can see what all the fuss is about!"

I glared at him, wanting to say so much. Like that the reason why I was so 'wound up' was the same reason that he was trying to watch the news. He probably thought it was just typical teenage girl problems, something involving boys and gossip and mean friends. I wished he was right.

I opened my mouth—

"—the attacked occurred early in the night at Tina Park," the reporter's voice was pulling my attention until I was looking over my shoulder. The news anchors—a brunette woman and redheaded man—sat at a desk as they addressed the camera. "The victim, Michael Buckly, had been walking home from his job at the Bowling Alley, when he was assaulted by an unidentified assailant."

I wanted to snort. Assailant.

Shaky footage was then shown, and I felt my body go cold. The footage was awkward–looking, but anyone with eyes could see what was happening. Could see the woman in a white leotard, combating some type of creature.

"—witnesses described the attacker as some type of wild animal," the female anchor continued over the images. "However, police have yet to confirm the creature's species."

I watched as a blue light sprang from Blue Jay's palms and formed into a protective barrier around her. The Mutant's fist collided with the wall, but she remained untouched. Her eyes were blazing. She pushed her arms forward and sent the Mutant flying. The look on Blue Jay's face was surprising. She climbed back to her feet without an ounce of fear.

I had to admit that I looked pretty badass.

The rain came down in chaotic sheets and the wind lifted my soaked hair from my shoulders. Wet light spilled across the pavement and ran up my spine like a glistening cloak. There was a sharpness to my eyes as I watched the Mutant fly. Fingers squeezed into fists. Mouth turned into a firm line. You never would have known how terrified I had been. My eyes were fire beneath water, passion in ice. Gasps and murmurs echoed from the crowd.

I actually . . . looked like a hero. Not some clueless teenager who had only learned that night about her powers. No, she was a real hero—a superhero. I couldn't help feeling a sense of pride. The way that the crowd spoke, how powerful I looked, the sudden revelation of my powers—it was hard not to feel satisfied. I mean, considering that it had been my first time fighting a Mutant and all, I think I had done pretty good.

"The victim—Mr. Buckley—was rushed to the Drymon Medical Centre immediately, after the self–identified Blue Jay exited the scene," the news anchor continued. "And despite his injuries, he remains in stable condition."

He was safe.

I let out a quiet breath.

I hadn't stayed back to learn about his fate. I had been so focused on getting there before the police arrived, that it had slipped my mind that he had even be there. I felt guilty about it when I arrived home and had even contemplated going to the hospital to check on him. Nel had talked me out of it, insisting it would be announced tomorrow. Which had been fine, if it hadn't been another factor stopping me from getting to sleep.

But at least he was alive.

"Wow," I heard Olga whisper. I looked over my shoulder to find her grasping onto the arm of Bob's chair. "Blue Jay is positively magnificent! She looked much better on camera then in the papers! Did you see her shield thingies? I wonder if she's human, or perhaps some type of extra–terrestrial . . ."

Olga continued babbling. I wasn't sure if anyone was listening. I dropped my gaze to my folded hands in my lap. Last night had been a success . . . I had actually defeated the monster. I had saved someone. Rather then being the thing tearing them down, I had been the one keeping them safe.

A smile rolled up my face. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.

"Hey, what're ya doing on the floor?" I heard Bob's voice aim itself at me. "C'mon, missy, you have school to go to!" When I looked up to meet his scowl, I realised that, at some point, I had sunk down to my knees without even realising it.

A hand suddenly appeared in front of my face.

I looked up to the arm that it belonged to and found myself staring at Olga's grin. Her eyes were warm, shimmering like the glistening surface of a pool. She looked at me like she knew what I was going through. I didn't know why. But she was offering me her support.

I was tempted to accept her hand. To take the offer she was extending towards me. But before my hand touched hers, I remembered that, after living in this house for sixteen years, I didn't need anyone's help. I had never needed their help. I had gotten by taking care of myself and I wasn't to start changing that now.

Especially not now.

Climbing to my feet, I bumped my shoulder into Olga's hand. I ignored the look on her face to brush the dust from my skirt.

"I'll make my own lunch."

Not sparing another glance, I made my way into the kitchen. The air slipped into my chest like it were water and I realised that a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. The report, I realised, had changed my opinion on being a Guardian.

Witnessing the fight from another perspective, I saw how capable I was. I had looked powerful; I had looked like a hero.

I knew that there were others. I knew that maybe, there was someone out there more capable. But Nel had sensed something in me that had made me worthy. And so far, it was only me she could sense it from. I had to make sure that I didn't give her a reason to regret it. I had to rely on my own strength and save people.

So, I would.

"Helga, did you hear the news?!"

A hand slammed inches from my face and I jumped back.

"Jesus, Pheebs!" I gasped, clutching my heart, and spun around. "I've told you a million times to stop doing tha—"

I blinked at her appearance.

She was leaning over her knees, chest heaving from her raspy breath. Small drops slid from her forehead and one curled around her jaw.

I rose an eyebrow. "Did you just run a marathon?"

My words seemed to shake her from her exhaustion.

Eyes shining, she grinned and rose back to her full height, which wasn't much.

"No, I just wanted to get here early to talk about, oh—not much, except possibly that little incident involving a real life superhero battling a seven foot monster."

I stared at her and could only settle for a small, "Huh."

"I mean, isn't it so exciting?" she continued, then whipped out a rolled-up magazine from who knows where. Her eyes glistened as she opened it to an article. "She completely defies all scientific explanation. It's both so frustrating and fascinating, an anomaly wrapped up in a mystery! Certainly, a time to be alive in!"

Her excitement should have made me happy—my best friend believed in me, for God's sake. But instead, my heart sunk. A groan rolled up my throat as I shut my locker, shutting my eyes in frustration.

"You too?"

I couldn't escape her name.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't mind people talking nicely about me (which hadn't happened before, but that was besides the point). But that praise was attached to Blue Jay, not Helga. The girl who dazzled crowds as light bent around her. She held her arms out and then, the danger was gone. Praise roared from her fingertips. That should have made me excited, but instead, that praise tied itself into knots and slid down my chest. It was another reminder of my duties. That if I fucked up—which I was prone to doing—then the whole world would suffer as a consequence. People already had their expectations for her and the more that I learned of them, the more that I felt like I didn't fit into their vision.

That maybe this was a mistake.

"Me too?" I heard Phoebe repeat.

Eyes opening, I pressed my fingers to my forehead, twisting my lips into what I hoped was a smile.

"Yeah, cause, it's just that, well—" I struggled to find the words to explain myself without letting anything slip. The realisation that I would have to tip toe around how I felt, instead of venting to her my new burdens, was something I didn't like.

"I feel like—okay, so one night, this chick shows up and saves a guy. And, yes, it's totally impressive—I'm sure that only someone of massive intellect and strength could do what she did, but . . . I just feel like everyone's expectations are already so high, especially after only one night. What if . . . what if she can't fulfil those expectations? What if she's not nearly as good as people think she is . . . what if it was only a one time only thing?"

The words ached in my throat. I pressed my lips together. Phoebe had her face scrunched up in thought, her own lips pursed, as she contemplated her answer.

A few seconds passed before she clucked her tongue, shoving the rolled–up magazine into her bag, and faced me.

"Well, no one really knows who she is, Helga. She could be anyone. I mean, just walking down the halls I heard people calling her some type of Russian spy." She said that with a chuckle while I wrinkled my nose. There's another speculation to add to the list. "I suspect that might have come from the popularity of that superhero in the Avenger movies—Black Widow. She's Gerald's favourite." Softness welled in her eyes, but she shook her face, and the light was gone. "But anyway, the point is that whoever this girl is—she saved us last night. I'm not quite sure what it was that she fought, but it was obvious that it wouldn't come down from a regular weapon. We could've tried, but at the most, it might've slowed it down."

She paused, eyes misting over, and she slowly looked up at me.

"I'm not quite sure what it was that she fought but regardless, I am grateful that she was there. I get the feeling that it won't be the only one and that we should be preparing ourselves. But what can we do? We're a capable species, but not that quickly. In the meantime, Blue Jay is our only defence. It's a scary thought, but at the same time, it isn't totally. She's strong, capable, and different from anything I've ever seen. You look at her and you think, 'Hope'. You think, 'I'm no longer afraid because I know that this woman won't ever let anything happen to me.' You cannot help but trust her. Because she makes you feel safe."

The breath that moved through my body was light and all I could do was stare at my best friend. The weight had numbed, the pressure building up around me shattered, falling into tiny pieces that dissolved when they met the ground.

"You—" my mind was blank. "You truly believe that?"

Phoebe rose her eyebrow, slightly surprised by how eagerly I was hanging onto her words. I suppose it would be something that she would never understand. I didn't just value her opinion because she was my best friend but because she was the smartest person I knew.

Phoebe was the type of person to take apart a puzzle just to examine how its parts worked before she put it back together again. She loved analysing situations, hearing all sides of an argument, then forming her own opinion. If I knew her at all, Phoebe didn't just read that article in her pocket, she also watched as many reports or interviews before reaching that conclusion. And if that was the conclusion she had come to, maybe she was right, maybe I was overthinking it.

"Yes?" it came out as a question, and she sheepishly laughed. "I can't explain it, but there's just something about her that makes me feel . . . secure. Like there's a sense of familiarity."

My brain shot into overdrive and for a moment, all I could hear were sirens. She felt as if—fuck, did some part of Phoebe recognise Blue Jay as me?

No, of course not. She said she felt a sense of familiarity. That didn't mean she had already drawn a line of similarity between Blue Jay and me. It would be a big leap to take and, if I knew Phoebe, she wasn't one for taking leaps. Not unless she could detail every step it took for her to get there. She looked at evidence and facts, and there wasn't anything that connected me to Blue Jay.

But . . . what if there was?

The thought was like a bolt to my spine. Because I had nothing to say to that. Sure, there wasn't anything connecting me to Blue Jay now, but what about later when the fights got harder? I was lucky last night, but what if she called me up, wanting to make up our Sundae Monday, and I couldn't come because another Mutant was terrorising everyone. What if that happened so much, she began putting the pieces together?

My chest thudded. I turned my attention back to Phoebe.

"You sound like a fangirl, Pheebs," I teased, cracking a shaky smile.

She tried to look irritated but couldn't fight the smile.

"Hey!" she playfully whacked me in the ribs. It of course didn't hurt, but I pretended that it did.

"Ah, how you wound me, fiend!" Rubbing my side, I scrunched up my face in exaggerated pain. "Doth thou not realiseith how strongith thou areith?"

She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"You're such a dork, H," she muttered with a small smile.

I grinned and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. "Guess that makes me your dork, geek."

We shared a look, trying to hold back our laughter, but failed when our eyes locked. Our shoulders knocked together as we burst out cackling, ignoring the stares we received. It had been so long since Pheebs and I had been together long enough to talk, and I'd forgotten how much I'd missed this.

"Are you seriously serious, Rhonda?!"

Phoebe and I both quietened when another voice rang from the opposite side of the hallway. I rolled my eyes when I found myself staring in the cheerleader's corner again. Criminy, how did we always hear their conversations? Either we were too close, or they were way too loud.

Currently, only two of them were actually present, and the voice had come from Nathalie Nguyen, head of the squad. She was a beautiful girl with golden brown skin and long, dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She had a beauty mark beneath her right eye and long lashes that made every girl look at her with envy.

Nathalie was pressed against a locker, facing Rhonda Wellington Lloyd, who was digging through her own locker for whatever books she needed.

"Yes," Rhonda sighed and dramatically pulled out a Spanish textbook. Nathalie puffed out her cheeks, looking genuinely put off with Rhonda's stance. "I'm seriously serious, Nat. I just don't like that mockingjay girl or whoever she is."

I paused, raising a brow. Were they talking about what I think they're talking about? I turned to Phoebe for confirmation, and she simply shrugged and shook her head, communicating her own confusion.

"It's Blue Jay," Nathalie corrected, tightening her arms over her chest and rolling her eyes. "And why the hell not?"

"Well, why should I?" Rhonda shrugged and opened her textbook. She really didn't seem to care for this conversation as she quickly skimmed one of the chapters. "So, she killed that freakzoid thing last night, but did you see how? She threw a knife—big whoop. Everyone's acting like she cured cancer. The police didn't even get there until she had killed it, and their bullets are pretty harmful, who's to say they couldn't have done that? Not only that, but they definitely wouldn't have left that guy there without so much of a look his way. Did you see how quickly she left? Not a glance at anyone. At least the police stayed to make sure he was okay. She's just running around in a really tacky leotard and taking their jobs."

She snapped her book shut and faced a very taken aback Nathalie.

"And anyway, who even cares about this girl?" Rhonda gave an exasperated shrug. "Like hello, does no one else care about that ten foot monster? Everyone's focusing on this girl and barely asking questions about whatever that was. Honestly, that's where all those questions should be about—not her, but that icky . . . thing."

Whoa.

I guess the little princess could use that brain of hers. I was shocked, honestly. I thought she paid people to do her thinking for her.

But as much as I disliked her, Rhonda had a point. I hadn't shown concern for anyone else. I hadn't stayed back to check on anyone else. I had announced my name and then left. The man I had sought to protect, I had left him there, for someone else to take responsibility for.

I had been so focused on myself that everything else had escaped my notice.

I lowered my face. What type of hero was I?

Sure, I had been concerned for him, to the point that I hadn't gotten sleep over it . . . but I had still left him there. Because I wanted to save myself.

And everyone did care too much about Blue Jay. No one was asking about the monster. Sure, the news stations had thrown out some questions, but they seemed more transfixed with the mysterious girl with superpowers. And the general public were even more focused on her. They had no idea what was coming, no idea of the storm that was brewing and ready to hit us.

Though, I realised, I guess I didn't either.

Nel had explained to me what this all meant, patiently answered my questions and even warned me, but I hadn't fully wrapped my head around it. Right now, the future was a movie scene in my head, one that I kept pressing fast forward on, so I only caught terrifying glimpses.

I realised that not only was everyone in the dark about what was coming, but so was I.

Biting my lip, I looked down at Phoebe.

Her eyes were narrowed and stuck on the two cheerleaders. She had her lips pressed so tightly together that the colour was fading, and her pale hands were wrapped around her bag straps. I recognised that look—she wanted to speak out. She wanted to defend Blue Jay. She wanted to prove that Blue Jay wasn't stealing the cops' jobs. She wanted to tell Rhonda what she had told me, backed it up with the facts she had dug up last night.

But I knew Phoebe: she was painfully shy. She may have grown since grade school—could now approach her friends or tease those she was close with without feeling awful about it after—but to strangers, she was just as shy.

Sweet as a butterfly, Phoebe still hid behind her hair and could barely answer her teachers even when she knew the answer. Debating with one of the Queens of Hillwood High over something ridiculous like a one time superhero wasn't her forte.

I placed a hand on her shoulder and she jumped, looking up at me like a kicked puppy. I forced a gentle smile, hoping to somehow lighten her burden, but the smile she gave back didn't reach her eyes.

If only Phoebe knew that the superhero she felt so protective of was standing right beside her. That not only was Blue Jay her best friend, but she was warmed that she felt so strongly about her. That her words carried a certain weight to them that she would never know.

The school bell went off and we looked up with quiet sighs.

"Algebra," I told her.

"Biology," she shrugged and looked away, frowning slightly.

My chest tightened and I stepped closer, squeezing her shoulder.

"Lunch today?" I asked and grinned when she looked back. The chances were low, but I really wanted her to make it today. Being with her made me forget about this superhero business. I didn't feel like a Guardian with the fate of the world on my shoulders. I felt like a teenager whose biggest concern was overdue homework or her feelings going unrequited. I didn't feel any of that pressure from the outside world, instead I was encased in a warmth that made it easier to smile through it all.

"Sorry," she apologised, tilting her head with a sheepish smile. "It's calculus today. I should be able to sometime this week though."

I sucked in a quiet breath, pushing out a terse smile.

"Yeah, right, of course," I jerked my shoulders into a shrug. "So, I'm guessing we're not making up for our last Sundae Monday?"

It was stupid to ask. I already had a busy afternoon, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted to escape these burdens Nel had hurled onto me.

"Maybe next week, Helga," she suggested, shaking her head, but I knew that we wouldn't be doing no such thing.

Quietly, I sighed. Another week skipped. I couldn't remember the last time we'd actually gone for ice cream. Phoebe's schedule was just so tight and busy, it prevented her from doing anything with me nowadays.

Well, now there was even less of a chance of any of that happening. Blue Jay would more or less be the death of that.

It was during Algebra that the exhaustion crept up on me.

Mrs. Brown's lecture was, as usual, agonisingly long, and given my distaste for her and this subject, I could hardly be blamed for slightly nodding off. It wasn't a conscious decision or anything, everything was just moving so slowly and the next thing I had known, my pencil had fallen from my hand and my head dropped to the desk. It didn't count as sleeping, though. It was my body resting, but not sleeping. Nope, not at all.

Not that Mrs. Brown cared; the moment she noticed me, she yelped then sent me out of class. Yeah, you see, Mrs. Brown had never been my biggest fan, especially since I'd always hated her classes, so she must've been brewing with satisfaction as she watched me leave.

And I was so tired, I could barely find it in myself to feel humiliated from the encounter. I mean, yes, everyone's eyes had been on me and some had even fought to keep their chuckles to themselves but getting out of there was a blessing in disguise. Because it meant that I would be standing out in the hallway, waiting for Mrs. Brown to come out and lecture me. But I was aware that she more than likely wouldn't do that, so I was free to slump on the floor and nod off again. Although, I guess that wasn't necessarily the best thing for me, considering that any time my eyes shut, that Mutant's eyes were back in my head.

On the bright side, it made me jerk awake in time for the bell, which meant I was the first to reach Gym today.

Don't get me wrong, I still hated Gym, but being the first in the locker rooms meant I didn't have to deal with Rhonda and her cronies.

"Hello, Helga."

I jumped, jerking my eyes from my shoes up to the person who dared to socialise with me. I almost groaned when my vision settled on the unfortunately familiar face of Lila Sawyer, who was watching me with a wide smile.

I really didn't have the patience for Miss Perfect today.

Said perfect specimen stepped forward, brown eyes twinkling, and tucked her arms behind her back like she was Velma fucking Dinkley.

"How are you feeling?" she continued, despite my silence, and tilted her head slightly. "Unscathed and fine, I hope?"

Unscathed and fine—criminy, who said that?

"Um," I rose my brow cautiously. "Yes?"

She opened her mouth to say something, but I looked away to the basketball game currently taking place. I hoped—if there was a god—that she would take the hint. Maybe she would realise, if I didn't look at her, that I had no interest in continuing this conversation and leave me alone.

The haziness swirled in my mind like a fog and I blinked rapidly to make out the happenings on the court. As usual, it was mostly occupied by the boys while the majority of the girls were on the sidelines, chattering amongst themselves. Ms. Ainsley was in a much better mood today, so she had no problem with letting us stand this one out.

Thank you, Reed, for not pissing off your girlfriend today.

Ms. Ainsley herself was clutching her clipboard in her white hands, festering from the sidelines, and barking out orders to both teams so they were aware how badly they were doing.

"Johanssen, what was that?! I've seen six–year–old girls with better aim then that!"

. . . Hey, I said she was in a better mood, not a good one.

My pulse was racing in my ears the moment I spotted a familiar blonde boy, zipping up and down the court. The breath in my chest halted as I watched him move with the grace of a cheetah, hair rippling around his face and glistening with sweat.

Biting my lip, I held back a sigh, resisting the urge to swoon. I don't understand how someone could be so beautiful, so perfect. He even made our P.E. uniform look attractive.

"It is just that you were acting quite bizarre on the bus today," Lila continued, oblivious to my disinterest. My insides curdled and I glowered at her. She blinked her big eyes, in a way that reminded me of a looney tunes cartoon, and her forehead creased. "You were blushing ever so much then left so suddenly. I was ever so worried that perhaps we may have made you uncomfortable and not to mention that atrocious occurrence in Algebra today . . ."

Oh, boy.

A headache was beginning to form, and I genuinely didn't know if it was because I was still tired or because Lila was . . . being Lila.

I shoved myself from the wall and turned away from her.

"No, I'm fine," I said dismissively and began to walk away.

I wasn't one to care much if my actions were perceived as rude, but today, I truly did not care. I didn't want to have this conversation—or any conversation, for that matter—with the girl of Arnold's dreams. And for a very hopeful moment, I thought that maybe, perhaps, I had actually managed to ditch her. But then I heard a bouncing noise, the sound of footsteps thumping against the wooden boards, and knew that nope—she was following me.

Shoving my fists into my pockets, I swung around with the blankest expression I could muster.

Lila jumped back with surprise, hands held in defence, but didn't show any signs of backing down.

"Lila, what do you want?"

There. That should tell her, plain as day, that I didn't want to talk with her.

Lila's eyebrows knitted together.

"To see if you are alright, Helga," she answered, in a voice slightly calmer than before, and placed her hands onto her hips. "I am not quite sure if you were there last night, but it is alright to admit what has you ever so shaken. It was quite frightening, after all. Well, I imagine, I wasn't there. But the videos were admittedly a bit shocking."

. . . Huh?

I blinked owlishly at her. "What?"

Something sparked in her eyes.

"Well," she straightened up with a proud smirk on her lips. And I realised, with horror, that by asking, I'd just provoked this conversation to go on even longer. "You've been acting ever so oddly today, and I know that you're awfully shy and like to keep to yourself, but you spoke up on the bus—about Blue Jay. You were behaving uncanny when her name was mentioned so I figured that whatever it is that you're going through must have something to do with her. Gerald didn't mention you being there last night but perhaps he just—"

Blah, blah, blah, blah—criminy, could this girl go on. Wasn't it obvious that I didn't want to talk to her? I didn't even like her. Lila wasn't particularly smart but come on—a deaf, blind and stupid man could tell you I didn't exactly think very highly of little miss perfect.

Then, a sharp whistling suddenly rang in my ears. Lila's voice became lost beneath the other voices that drowned hers out.

"—look out—!"

"—Lila, move—!"

"—get out of the way—!"

Sliding in front of Lila, I slammed my palm into her shoulder and shoved her out of the way. She squeaked, hair flying into her face, and I stretched out my arm in front of me.

Thwack!

I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut when something cracked into my hand. There were multiple gasps from around us that was followed by a tense silence.

My palm stung from the impact like someone had taken a whack at it. The skin burned beneath the object which felt ice cold in comparison. I attempted to wrap my fingers around the object that was now in my hand. It was round, I realised, and much bigger than my hand.

Opening my eyes, I realised that it had been the basketball the teams had been playing with.

I looked to the courts.

Eyes were pointed in my direction, not just from the players, but the people standing around the courts. It was almost comical how in sync they appeared, gawking at me like I'd pulled a rainbow from my nostrils. I honestly could've collapsed laughing at how astonished Gerald, of all people, appeared. But as it turns out, I wasn't in a very laughing mood.

I checked over my shoulder at Lila, who also stared at me, slack jawed.

"Would you buckos please watch how you're freakin' playing?!" I snapped and swung back around to glare at the players. "You could've hurt someone, idiots!"

Irritation curdled in my chest when they showed no signs of hearing me. Instead, their gazes had shifted from me to my hand and, at this point, appeared truly confounded. Appalled, really.

Frowning, I looked to my hand—

What the . . .

—and felt my jaw drop.

Sometime, while I'd been yelling at those blockheads, my hand had, on its own accord, flipped the ball and balanced it on one finger, spinning it on the tip. I blinked, flabbergasted. When had I learnt to do that? Only the most skilled players could do that. So, how was I? I wasn't even left–handed.

I looked to the crowd and my eyes found their way back to Arnold. He was already watching me. But he looked like everyone else did, flabbergasted. His eyes were wide, jaw hanging as he swept his sweaty bangs from his face. Beside him, Gerald and Sid looked like I'd pulled a zebra from my pocket. I could imagine their minds desperately trying to connect the dots and causing a malfunctioning short circuit.

And then, it became uncomfortably quiet. I couldn't tell if they were more shocked that I apparently had skills in a sport I hadn't played in years, or that it had been Lila Sawyer I'd saved. It wasn't like my animosity toward her was a well-kept secret or anything.

Either way, enough was enough.

Taking the ball back into my palm, I launched it over my shoulder and towards the court.

"Watch where you're throwing it next time!" I barked and then turned around to Lila. "You good?"

Her mouth opened to form a response, but nothing came out. She settled for closing her mouth and jerking her head up and down. Nodding, I turned and began to walk away—

When everyone's gasps caught my attention.

Ugh, what now.

Looking over my shoulder, I was prepared to roll my eyes at whatever miniscule thing they were reacting to, when my eyes settled on the basketball. It was currently dancing along the ring to the net, spinning in circles against the edge. I drew in a shocked breath, spinning around, and felt my heart leap into my throat as I watched the ball move. It was hanging on the edge for what felt like hours before it dipped through the ring and plummeted through the air.

The breath was snatched from my throat when the ball bounced against the wooden floor. Its slaps filled the room. No one said anything, and all our eyes were glued to the ball as it thumped. No one knew what to say—I sure as hell didn't. I was still questioning how the fuck I even had managed any of that. Sure, when I'd been young, I was much bigger on sports, but that wasn't now. And I most certainly had never been that good, much less without trying.

Had that been my reflexes or . . . Blue Jay's?

It was when Arnold's eyes turned back in my direction that a rush jolted through my body. My sneakers squeaked as I spun on the balls of my feet and stomped towards the doors. My heart was racing so loud it felt like everyone could hear it, and I gulped. Now was a marvellous time for a bathroom break and honestly, I could care less about getting a pass right now.

My palms shoved open the twin doors and I practically dove into the hallways. The air seemed less heavy out here, like I'd just stepped out of a sauna. Desperately, I sucked it in. My heart was still pounding. I really needed to put some space between that class and I.

"Helga—hey, Helga!"

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

I gritted my teeth with exasperation. I'd just managed to start walking down the hallway when Lila had suddenly called out for me. Maybe if I didn't look, she would think I hadn't heard her and just give up.

Yeah, that was a good idea.

Keeping my eyes down, I stalked down the hallway. I'd managed to take three steps when—

"Hey, Helga! Wait up!"

Jiminy cricket, was this girl stupid?

I released an exasperated breath as her footsteps became louder. Reluctantly, I stopped in my tracks. Because clearly, there wasn't a point in ignoring her. It seemed that when it came to Lila, that wouldn't help me in the slightest. She was either too stupid or, for whatever reason, persistent to talk to me.

Could this day get any worse?

"What?" I snapped, not turning around. I didn't need to know she was standing a few inches behind—

"How'd you do that?!" she demanded, suddenly jumping in front of me with a lunatic grin. I sprung back in surprise. "I never knew you had such impressive skills!"

Blinking, I pressed a hand to my chest and struggled to get the air back in.

Lila continued to beam at me, so bright that it was hard not to imagine stars twinkling around her face. Her hair was slightly ruffled from her quick movements and she shoved it behind her ears, taking another step closer.

"I–I don't," I stuttered and stepped backwards. "I haven't played basketball in years."

It wasn't a lie by the way, not in the slightest. I hadn't played in years. It just so happened that the reason behind what I'd displayed five minutes ago wasn't dumb luck, but my superhero reflexes bleeding into my everyday life.

Totally normal.

"Really?" Lila's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Well, that was ever so impressive, Helga!"

It was slightly uncomfortable, being so close to her. Again, Lila and I didn't have the best history and I preferred to keep her at an arm's length. Now, with her so swept up in her giddiness, she stood less than a few inches from me.

"Erm," I shuffled awkwardly. "Thanks."

I don't know if it was my answer, how I said it, or something going off in her own brain, but suddenly, Lila's grin had shifted into wide–eyed curiosity.

"But Helga, if you don't mind me asking—" she placed her index finger to the corner of her mouth. "—where exactly did you learn such skill?"

"I would also like to know that, Pataki."

Startled, we both swung around in the direction of that voice. And I honestly could've smacked myself when I realised who it belonged to. Because of course—of fucking course it would be Ms. Ainsley.

She was slumped against the Gym doors, like she was imitating a leather–wearing bad boy from a 50s movie. She had her foot pressed against the door and arms crossed tight over her chest. The corner of her mouth was turned up and her plucked eyebrow raised like she'd just made an excellent point.

"So," she said in a particularly low voice. "What is it, Pataki? Where'd you learn moves like that?"

"Eh, here and there," I mirrored her actions and folded my arms, pretending I didn't care. Not that I did, of course. Sure, my heart was racing, but it wasn't because I cared or anything, I just wanted to get the pair of them off my back.

Ainsley nodded.

"Impressive nonetheless, Pataki," she admitted with a thoughtful expression. I didn't like it, not one bit. That look always promised misery, whether it was cruel pranks on some of the girls or particularly difficult courses for the whole class. It never guaranteed happiness for us.

"Um," I glanced over my shoulder, weighing my options. I could make a run for it, but Ainsley was a P.E. teacher with long legs. If anyone could catch me while I was making an escape, it was her. I turned back to them, but mostly focused my attention on Lila. Ainsley was giving me an uncomfortably long look while Lila stared at her with alarm. Couldn't blame her really. "Anyway, I'm just gonna go to the lock—"

"Y'know, we have a free spot on the basketball team," Ainsley interrupted and pushed herself up from the wall, moving forward. Lila's and my response were immediate, stepping back wide to keep as much distance from her as we could.

I gulped. "Um, actually—"

"I wasn't aware," Lila interjected, "that there was even an open spot on the team, Ms. Ainsley."

Ainsley shrugged.

"There isn't," she answered, then gestured to me with a nod. "However, I'm willing to change that for someone like Pataki."

My jaw dropped.

"You mean—" I started, unable to comprehend her implications, "that you would—"

"—kick someone off the team?" Lila finished, looking just as baffled, "just to make room for Helga?"

Ainsley remained oblivious to our trepidation and rose her chin with pride.

"Yes," she grinned. "Aren't I so generous?"

Lila managed a shaky smile. "Well, I—"

"Of course, it would have to be the boy's team," she quickly interjected, cupping her chin and looking up with thought. Lila stopped, eyes widening slightly, and I sighed. "The girls' team is pathetic, a total waste of my time. I would've kicked them all off and shut the thing down, but the school is forcing me to keep them—something about it being unconstitutional to allow only one of the sexes to play. Bull, I say! Unconstitutional is forcing me to waste my days trying to train a bunch of sissies who wouldn't know a basketball if it hit them in the face! Trust me, I've tried."

Lila blinked, mouth dropping with surprise. For once, she couldn't offer a rebuttal. Not because she agreed with it, but because she seemed so taken back. Hell, I was slightly shocked. Not that that was how she felt, but from how quickly Ainsley's moods had managed to change. She looked ready to punch a hole through the wall.

"Um, I—super, Ms. A," I lied, rubbing the back of my neck. "Erm, can I go—"

"Excellent," Ainsley interrupted with a wide smile, holding up her fingers to tick off her next few points. "Practises are Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays after school, sometimes we meet on weekends and—"

"Um," I stared at the short–haired woman with shock. "Hold on, I never said I was actually playing."

Ainsley stopped and turned her head back in my direction. She blinked a few times and then, when it had apparently hit her what I had said, her jaw dropped. Hell, even Lila seemed taken back with my decision.

"What?!"

My knees quaked at her shout, but I forced my face straight.

"Sorry, coach," I shrugged, eyes shifting to the corner above her head. "I just don't have time to be on a team."

Again, not a lie. Becoming Blue Jay hardly left me time for anything anymore. Sleep was hard enough, let alone extracurriculars that were managed by one of the most insane human beings I knew.

But the moment that sentence had left my lips, the air shifted—it became tense. Quiet. Disturbingly quiet.

Stomach squirming, I shifted my weight and glanced back to Ainsley. Her mouth had frozen wide open, so wide that a bird could fly in and set up shop. She had come to a complete and utter stop, one that scared the life out of me. It was rare when Ainsley chose to be silent, and normally it didn't lead to many good things.

It didn't help that I might've been the first person to decline her offer to join a team. You see, Ainsley hardly gave out invitations for students to actually join her teams. Typically, they showed up to try outs and if they impressed her, she let them in, as was required. But it was rare for her to spot someone and decide she wanted them to be under her wing, and that someone being a girl was even moreso.

That being said, when she actually decided to ask someone to join the team, she viewed it like she was Jesus asking someone to sit at the table with his disciples. It was a holy event, her extending her olive branch to someone in need, and she expected the uttermost gratitude for it.

"WHAT?!"

Lila and I both jumped. Ainsley had snapped back into action, eyes blinking rapidly with disbelief, and threaded her fingers through her short strands.

I gulped, suddenly aware that Ainsley was very tall. Like, seriously tall. And it wasn't like I was lacking in the height department, but next to Ainsley, I was at a clear disadvantage. So, I made the courageous decision to slip behind Lila, ducking my head behind her shoulder.

The redhead gave me an exasperated look.

"I'm sorry," I sheepishly smiled from around her hair. "But like I said, I'm pretty busy no—"

"With what?!" Ainsley demanded, fists digging into her hips.

And quite frankly, I didn't think I could give her an answer. One that would satisfy her, anyway. I mean, for starters, there's no way she would ever believe my reason for not joining (besides the fact that I didn't want to). And also, I don't think there was an answer in the world that would satisfy her that didn't involve my limbs falling off.

Lila folded her arms, watching me over her shoulder. Her eyes were slow, careful, like she was scrutinizing every thought running through my head. It didn't comfort me in the least. I already had Ainsley up in my goat, I didn't need her as well. Although, I guess she had started way before Ainsley, but still.

"Umm," I rubbed my neck. "Just y'know—stuff."

Lila rose her eyebrows. "Stuff?"

"Stuff?" Ainsley repeated.

"Stuff," I confirmed with a nod.

Her eyes darkened, like I'd just challenged her, and she lowered her chin, so her glare moved through her bangs like a knife.

"What type," she said through her teeth, "of stuff?"

The way she looked; it reminded me of the moments before werewolves transformed in teen movies. Her chin had dipped to her collarbones and how sharp her face had become, like I'd just ate her first born.

I cleared my throat, shuffling my feet, and tried gathering any remaining courage from last night.

"You know . . . stuff," I shrugged to show her I wasn't, in fact, scared of her. It was a complete and total lie, but hey, they didn't need to know. "Anyways, sorry coach, but I'm way too busy for—"

"Can't you quit your stuff?" she urged desperately, glare vanishing for an attempted puppy dog plea. "Please?"

She stepped forward and, once again, Lila and I immediately rushed backwards. Unaffected, Ainsley clasped her hands and twinkled her eyes, poking out her bottom lip.

It was weird.

"I–I'm sorry," I stuttered. "But I just don't have the time."

Lila and I fell silent as Ainsley tried to comprehend that someone had actually declined her offer. Her mouth opened and shut but no words were coming out. Her eyes glazed and dropped to the floor, her fists clenching and unclenching by her sides.

I rose a brow. Was she having a stroke?

Then suddenly, Ainsley dropped to her knees and clasped her hands together in a prayer formation.

"Please," her voice turned into a hoarse pleading. "I–I'm begging you!"

Lila and I jumped in surprise as her words bounced from the walls.

"You don't understand, Pataki!" Ainsley continued, oblivious to our growing fear. "You're the first real talent I've come across in this fat lump of a school! Have you seen that low down, sorry excuse for a team? Bunch of wimps and crybabies. Why, they're nothing more than ninnies, I tell you! They're the most talentless, non–moving gumps I've seen! Why'd ya think we haven't won any games as of late?

"B–But with you on the team—" her eyes developed into a demented, sadistic twinkle as the corners of her mouth stretched so high, they were a few centimetres shy of her earlobes. "—we . . . we might actually win—yes! HA–HA! We could win! Yes! You, Pataki, may have the talent, the means, to win me my first game since I was doomed with these pathetic piles of putrid pus! MWAHAHAHAHA!"

Lila and I stood there as our P.E. teacher transformed into the world's most feral, scariest supervillain. She had risen from her knees back to her feet, but seemed even more imposing than before, and her shoulders hunched forward like she was the fucking Hulk.

A part of my brain registered that, at some point during her monologue, Lila and I had wrapped our arms around one another and now stood cheek–to–cheek. But my focus was mostly directed onto Ainsley. What had happened to her?

BRIING!

"Hey—OI! PATAKI, GET BACK HERE!"

I was never going to P.E. again.

I don't care how I managed to do it—whether it involved coming up with weird, over–the–top illnesses or injuries or hell, actually getting injured—I was not—repeat: not—stepping one foot into that Gym again. And that was a promise. I was totally willing to move schools if I had to. Hell, that might actually be easier. Sure, I would have to bid Phoebe adieu, but at least I wouldn't have to constantly look over my shoulder for psychopathic teachers.

You see, after I'd booted it out of P.E., the she–devil—I didn't even feel safe thinking her name anymore—had made it her mission to win me over to her stupid basketball team. It was lunchtime now and she was spending it searching the school grounds for me. I'd spotted her just before I'd stepped into the cafeteria—she stood out right away to me. Her blue tracksuit was a pop of colour amongst all the crimson that I noticed her right away and quickly moved out of the doorway before she could turn around. Students around me glanced over weirdly, but I ignored them, pasting my back against the door.

Ainsley had been scouring around my table, the one I had reserved as my own. People had looked over at her, trying to figure out what she was doing, but quickly turned away when she had glanced in their direction.

Sighing, I had rested the back of my head against the wall. Obviously, my table was no longer an option.

Which led me here—the school roof. Alone. I'd been reluctant at first, considering how much of a walk it was from the cafeteria, but hey, the promise of no Ainsley was worth it. The door had squeaked as I'd heaved it open, and then the sunlight had left me blind for a good few moments.

It rushed down in white waves and splattered across the roof. It was wide and flat up here; an inter–linking fence enclosed the entire area. There was a beautiful garden that grew from the small, rectangular pit. Bright green leaves cascaded over the edges, framing the cluster of colourful flowers. There were daffodils, smatters of fuchsia and saffron hued primroses. But the one that had caught my eye was the centaurea; they were such an electric burst of blue, a chilling neon that reminded me of sapphires. And beside the garden, was a bench, in the perfect position to collect as much sunlight as possible.

It was so different out here; it was the same size as the cafeteria, but without the people and tables. There was so much room to move around. I could stretch out my arms, spin around in circles, and no one would even know. But it was quiet. There wasn't any mindless chatter or the scraping of chairs. The closest to it was the softness of the wind, folding against my ears.

Without the distractions, it made me notice the hollowness.

Clutching the fence, I bit down on my straw, the flavoured milk coming up stronger. It shouldn't have mattered—it didn't matter—and I pushed that detail to the back of my mind.

Heat swam around my face as I watched the world below me. It was a three–storey height, but I could see the school fields perfectly. It was mostly occupied by the guys that played football; they weren't dressed in their equipment, instead having taken off their blazers and jackets and loosening their ties. I slightly cringed, watching one with blonde hair skid across the ground. Not because he may have been injured, but because that was definitely going to leave stains. And if there was one thing teachers at this school did not tolerate, it was stained shirts.

But then my eyes fell on the hunched form of Ainsley, marching up to them. They paused their game, some even sneaking away, as she barked at them, demanding where her shining star was. They each looked amongst themselves, some shrugging since the name didn't ring any bells, then shook their head. I hadn't realised I'd been holding my breath until Ainsley let out a frustrated sigh and stormed off. That's when I noticed I was still holding milk in my mouth and quickly gulped it down.

I let out a relieved breath and turned to the skies. The clouds were white and fat, the air crisp. It slipped past me and pushed my hair into my face. I moved it from my teeth then traced my fingers along my scalp.

I hissed when I reached a sensitive spot.

Stupid Mutant had left behind a huge lump on my head. But Nel had assured me it would heal itself quickly; if not today, then certainly tomorrow.

I sighed.

Nel had actually explained a lot last night.

"Criminy!"

My jaw had dropped when my eyes landed on the face staring back in the mirror.

The first thing I noticed, were her eyes.

They were large, hard and blue. Not a soft, baby blue They were the type of blue that generated a feeling like I was being pulled into a lake. It was like all the myriad shades of blue swirled together to form a whirlpool of caution.

She had smooth skin, sprinkled with small freckles like angel dust, and her brows curved in swooping arcs over her eyes. The girl seemed so young, there wasn't a wrinkle to her face, but there was a maturity to her; something about how she was built. I couldn't put my finger on what it was exactly—the height, the eyes, the overall guarded look—but she just seemed so soldier–like, no nonsense.

Her blonde hair had become unruly, rolling down her back in sticky clumps, both from the sweat and blood. The air in here was crisp—since I'd left the window open—but despite that, her skin glistened with sweat. An especially bright pink patch shone on her right cheek and a tiny cut resided on her plump lips. But somehow, despite the bruises running up and down her arms, the girl remained an ethereal beauty.

And the longer I examined her, the harder it became to accept that the girl in the mirror was me.

Technically.

"Shit, I look hot," I murmured and then, turning around, my eyes widened when they zeroed in on my backside. "Jiminy cricket—" my jaw dropped for what felt like the hundredth time. "I have an ass!"

Because, quite frankly, as Helga, my figure had as many curves as an arrow.

There was a forced, awkward coughing and when I glanced over my shoulder, it was to the uncomfortable black cat.

Nel was perched on my bed, a paw to her mouth (I'd given up, at this point, questioning her human–like behaviour), and her face had morphed with impatience.

"If you are quite done focusing on such trivial, unbecoming things," she said with a hard stare, "I would very much like to continue explaining your new role as a Guardian."

Trust Nel to be a stick in the mud.

Rolling my eyes, I turned around to face her.

"Gee, Nel, sorry and all," I said, tone dry, and threw up my hands in exasperation. "But c'mon, did you see me out there? I totally rocked. I was awesome! I mean, this morning my biggest concern was catchin' that dang bus. Now I'm a freaking hero—a superhero! Move over Superman, there's a new man of the hour! Oh my God, this is so awesome! Why didn't this happen years ago? Imagine all the things I can do with these—"

"Are you done yet?" Nel's ears pulled back and she stood to her feet. "I cannot believe how selfish you are acting right now."

"Hey," I frowned, crossing my arms. "I thought I surprised you. What the heck crawled up your butt?"

Nel narrowed her eyes.

"You are treating your duties carelessly and refusing to see past your selfish gains," she hissed. "A man almost died not an hour ago, along with innocent civilians, and you have the nerve to treat your new role as if it were a joke? You surprise me, Helga."

She said it low like I really had disappointed her. I dug my fingers into my biceps. I hated to admit it, but Nel had a point. Ever since I had gotten back, I'd been high on this rush and hadn't even stopped to ask what would become of that man. He hadn't moved when he had hit the ground, and I remembered seeing flecks of blood . . . that man hadn't looked much older than me.

"Alright, alright, alright—I got it. I'm sorry, okay?" I waved around a dismissive hand and looked away, so hopefully Nel couldn't detect how I felt. The guilt pumped through me and swelled in my throat. But Nel's gaze was heated, two lightbulbs pressing into my skin, so I whirled around and wrapped my fingers around my hips. "Anyways, how do I, uh, change back?"

"Oh," I caught the surprise that flickered over Nel's face in her reflection, as she seemingly realised it was Blue Jay she was talking to, not Helga. "Right, of course—well, it's simple. Place your hand against your chest, close your eyes and conjure an image of yourself." I obeyed with a nod, shutting my eyes and placing my hand on my chest. "Think of what you had been wearing, how you had tied your hair, the colour of—"

"Alright, alright, I got it—geeze. . ." I waved my hand around carelessly at her. "No need to chat my ear off, Nel."

Call me psychic, but she was totally glaring at me right now.

Shaking my head, I squeezed my eyes even tighter and thought of what I'd been wearing today. I remembered that familiar hoodie I always wore beneath my blazer, that ugly, knee–length skirt, my twin ponytails, the stain on my shirt—

I gasped.

The electrical heat that danced under my skin was intoxicating. It pushed through my veins and my heart thundered in my ears. There was a sizzling energy, it was so warm and strong, yet it felt like a radiant mist, pulling me in all directions.

But then it was gone.

The absolute power, the warmth that made my heart sing—it was all gone, and I was left feeling cold and delicate. Waves of nausea hit me and the ground beneath my feet began to shift. The buzzing in my head was replaced with a throbbing sensation that made everything spin.

I clutched my head with a small groan. Why did I feel so tired?

Nel coughed sheepishly, ducking her head when I looked at her.

"Erm, well, yes, I forgot to mention that," she quickly admitted. "At first, when transforming back, you may feel a little strained—"

"A little?" I balked at her, completely stumped as to why she wouldn't mention that until now.

"Yes, a little," and then she had the nerve to actually roll her eyes at me. "However, given some time, I'd imagine you'd get quite used to it."

This cat, I decided, was too British for her own good.

And then her words registered.

"Wait—whoa, whoa, whoa—hold up! Time out!" I held up my hands in a T formation. "Who said this was gonna be a regular thing?"

Nel's eyes widened. "Helga, you cannot be serious—"

"Oh yes, I am, sister. Quite, in fact," I snapped and crossed my arms over my chest. "I mean, for cripes sake, I'm only sixteen! And you expect me to go around, fighting monsters just because some talking cat tells me to? No thank you."

"But if you don't," Nel insisted through her teeth, "then who will?"

"You said there were others—three!" I insisted. "Why don't you find them and make them fight?! Hell, you can even take this bizarro thing back and—"

"I don't know who they are!"

I stopped.

Nel's stare had become hard and her voice turned shaky. Nel so far hadn't shown a wide range of emotions outside of frustration, disappointment and seriousness, but now, she seemed to be swimming in them.

The surprise I felt must've been evident because Nel, shutting her eyes, took three breaths to calm herself. The hardness in her face softened and when she opened her eyes, they were different—worn, weary, like she had been drained of her energy.

I dropped my gaze.

"Listen Helga, if I were able to, I would. I'd choose someone else to fight these beasts—someone older . . . w–with more experience. But I . . . I can't. I do not possess the power to just pick Guardians, I can only find them. I cannot create. Because believe me, if I could, I would choose someone else. It pains me to put such a burden onto someone so young, but I'm not in the position to pass up your potential. You've seen those things; more are coming and I'm simply out of time. Otherwise I would. I would take your place, if I could, but I cannot."

She said that with her eyes low, an emotion swirling behind them, one that I couldn't recognise. But it made the weight in my chest sink down to my stomach.

"But I can assure you this," she quickly said, blinking away the misty emotions and looking up at me, "that I will do everything within my power to properly equip you. To train you to fight with power and skill against these things. I can promise you that."

She said it with such confidence, such fortitude, that I was left speechless. Her eyes were unyielding, never flicking away from mine, and burned like embers.

The thoughts swimming through my head were so conflicting and loud that I had to force myself to look away. All the thoughts racing through me felt like explosions, spinning around at an unknown rate. I could feel the fear, the confusion, hell, even the interest, all at once.

On one hand, I didn't want this. Any of it. Nel spoke so gravely about all of this, and though I didn't quite understand the situation fully, I did understand that by accepting this role, people's lives would be in my hands. Which was nuts. I barely could get myself out of bed in the morning, now I had to protect an entire city from those . . . things? And speaking of those things, I'd barely even gotten out of tonight's fight. Now, I'd have to keep doing that, over and over again? Why? Why did it have to be me and not someone else? As Nel said, someone experienced, older and smarter. This felt like a giant mistake.

But . . . Nel was desperate.

According to her, there were more of these monsters. Ones that were lethal, powerful, possibly even more than tonight's. The monster tonight had been so terrifying. . . and this was just the beginning. I knew that. And if someone didn't fight . . .

Who would?

I was the only one.

It terrified me, but it was true. Until Nel could find the other Guardians, I was the only one who could fight. That made it my sole responsibility . . . to protect everyone. I'd have to muster up every and any piece of strength I'd ever had.

I had to fight.

But that conclusion opened my mind up to images. The absolute terror on that man's face, his unmoving body on the ground, the vicious look on that thing's face—

My scalp began to burn, as if to remind me of that blow I'd received. I raised my hand to rub against the area but hissed when pain flashed. A lump was beginning to form. My stomach began to curl, because the reality was, if I accepted this duty, then lumps were the least of my worries. I probably was going to come home way more injured than I had tonight.

It sent shivers down my spine and I had to wrap my arms tight over my chest. Nel's gaze was burning. I looked away. Came back to my reflection in the mirror. I was surprised by how much darker the bruises appeared against my skin now that I was Helga.

The one on my left cheekbone was particularly nasty, a purple welt scattered across my skin like a disease. And the cut on my lip was unavoidable now. Blue Jay had lips that were plump like cream. But mine were less consistent. The bottom was thin, while the top was puffed like it had been stung. But the area around the cut swelled out and made the inconsistency even worse. It throbbed painfully. I could feel the blood rushing warm beneath my skin.

The results of tonight's fight were dark against my face. They were inescapable, a stark contrast to how Blue Jay had appeared. The injuries had been noticeable, but not like this; on her, they'd seemed lighter, almost artificial, like they were special effects. It looked like I had come from a very violent fight, but on her, it had been almost a scuffle. Maybe that was why her face looked the way it was, why it had been built so stone-like. It was like it had been crafted exactly like that, while mine was still human, and therefore worse for wear against bruising like this.

"Please, Helga," Nel's voice was soft, and when I glanced back, her eyes were pleading. "There isn't any time to waste. Many more Mutants will infiltrate this planet, if they haven't already and, without you, all hope is lost."

I couldn't ignore the desperation in her voice. Her eyes pinned against mine and silently, I could hear their whispers. How she was pleading that I consider what it was that I could be preventing. To imagine what would happen if I turned this all down.

I itched to tell her no, but the words were caught in my throat. What would happen if I rejected this? There were others like me, but how quickly could she locate them? I don't know how long it had taken her to find me, but she had done it the day that thing had shown up. Something similar could happen tomorrow, where it wasn't a guarantee that there would be someone to stop it.

The idea terrified me, but there didn't seem to be another option.

Besides, as much as I wanted to ignore it, there had been an elation I felt when I was her.

Blue Jay.

When I was her, it was like stepping out into the light when you had spent your life behind bars. The world broke apart as the bars melted from around me, and as I stepped forward, the sun crawled across my face. The air became swollen from its heat. It crept across my cheeks, sliding down my neck and brushing my hair from my shoulders. The surrealness engulfed me, dancing and swirling in a dazzling storm that curled like summer in my palms. It left my heart full. The tension that had been keeping my chest prison for years now vanishing and I was left dizzy from the unprecedented rush that beamed from beneath my skin.

She pushed the shadows away until I shone so bright, I was starlight.

I glanced down to the pin, still stuck to my shirt.

Being Blue Jay felt like I'd reunited with a friend I'd always known. A figure that had hung back against the corners of my mind. A haunted daydream that still beamed like a diamond, no matter how many shadows you covered her in. A missing part of myself.

I wrapped my hands around my arms, sighing. There were muscles I hadn't realised that had tensed. Keeping my head down, I crossed the room, pressing my lips together, and Nel watched silently as I sat down in front of her.

I cleared my throat. "Sooo, what exactly was that thing?"

I had said it softly, hoping that it came across as almost apologetic, and when I looked up, Nel appeared taken back. Her eyes widened for a moment, mouth parting, but when I rubbed the back of my neck, she shook it off with a reassuring smile. She gave me a small nod and though I didn't know her, I knew that it was her way of thanking me.

"That, Helga, was a Mutant."

"A Mutant?"

"Yes," her smile disappeared, expression turning grim. "A creation that was brought to life by the Priestess Acantha."

I furrowed my brow. "Ah–kan–tha?"

Her eyes softened, appearing slightly amused at my attempt at pronouncing the foreign name, as she nodded.

"Yes—Acantha. A woman of absurdly great powers and the leader of Mutants, like the one you fought tonight," she explained, smile once again vanishing. "She and her army of Mutants travel from planet to planet, killing all life before moving onto the next."

A shiver ran up my spine.

Drawing my legs to my chest, I wrapped my arms around my shins and leaned in close. There was a nauseous curl in my stomach, but I was still interested in what she had to say.

"I regret to say this, but truthfully, there is little I actually know about Acantha. People who encounter her usually are not heard of again. However, I do know that the most recent planet she declared war on—Laakia—severely weakened her army and she was forced to flee. She was temporarily able to open up a portal that allowed herself and roughly only 10% of her army to escape, which led her here. However, the rest of her army remained on Laakia."

She ended there, glancing down to hide the way her eyes had clouded over with something. I didn't know what was going through her mind, but I knew she wasn't about to share it with me, and I quickly blurted out, "What is she hoping to get from Earth?"

I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the answer.

"Energy—lots of energy," Nel answered, looking up at me. I froze, not because of what she had said, but from how different she appeared. The clouded emotions were gone, replaced with a sharpness, a passion that oozed like white hot flames. "The Priestess Acantha is a powerful woman—legend has it, she possesses a strength that could rival even the greatest of Guardians. However, even she has her limits; she cannot hope to open a portal of that magnitude for as long as it'll take to get everyone from there over here."

"How did she originally, then?" I couldn't help asking.

Nel paused for a moment, seeming a little peeved at my interruption, but answered anyway. "She was able to because there wasn't as many bodies to get through the first time. She had been injured, someone had gotten her rather badly, and had she not been able to get out so quickly, the results would've been fatal. I assume she had enough strength to get herself some place far away—in this case, Earth—but not enough to hold the portal open for very long."

"Oh," was all I could say.

"She plans on collecting enough energy from humans to open up another one," Nel continued. "And if she does, she'll regain control over the rest of her army. And if that happens . . . likely, she'll destroy everything on Earth."

Yep, I was right. Didn't want to know the answer.

Swallowing, I purposely glanced over that small 'destroy everything on Earth' factor. "Um, you say 'energy' . . . what exactly is that?"

Nel blinked, looking surprised that I focused on that part.

"To put it bluntly, your energy is your life force," she answered anyway. "It is what drives you in your regular life. It is a fundamental force that nourishes all life in existence. It is what allows you to think, to feel, to move, react—everything. Without it, we simply cannot exist. Everything gives off a considerable amount in their lifetime. Especially humans; you, in particular, give off a sizeable portion, which is why you're all, for the moment, so valuable to Acantha."

"So, that yellow cloud I saw on the man's face, then . . ." I said, the little dots beginning to connect in my mind. ". . . that mist that the Mutant was collecting, was that that man's energy?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Because of the amount you give off regularly, it shouldn't take more than a couple hundred of you to provide Acantha with the power to open up another portal. And if she opens up another one . . ." she trailed off, but I didn't need her to finish to understand the meaning.

"She sounds like a bitch," I decided.

The comment had been more to myself, but Nel cracked a small smile. She looked up, her gaze latching onto mine, and for a moment, I felt like the hanging tension maybe had been smothered. But as quickly as it had came, the smile disappeared and she proceeded to tell me about the upcoming apocalypse.

"There are three types of Mutants that I've counted. There are the general Mutants, Wraiths and Leeches. General Mutants are the most common; they come in all shapes and sizes, and each have their own strengths. However, they all share a common weakness—you maybe have noticed the writing on that knife I gave you," she looked at me expectedly and I nodded, prompting her to continue. "Well, that is an ancient incantation that enchants the blade, which acts like an acid to them. If the blade pierces their flesh, it will eradicate them, as you saw." Nel's face then shifted, from a cool shade to a blazing intensity. "Do not lose that blade, Helga—whatever you do. It is highly valuable and, so far, your only way of defeating them."

I blinked, trying to clear my mind. "Umm, what's the second type of Mutants, then?"

"Wraiths," she answered, grim with the thought, which didn't encourage anything warm or fuzzy in me either. "They are unlike regular Mutants in that they can disguise themselves perfectly reminiscent of humans. Unlike Mutants, Wraiths do not outright attack their victims, they feed off their happiness. Wraiths inhabit popular spots and collect energy through their victim's happiness. Shapeshifting aside, they tend to be much more powerful and lethal compared to other Mutants, so be careful, Helga."

I gulped, nodding.

"And the third type—" she drew in a breath. "—are Leeches. And I pray that you'll never have to come into contact with them."

"Why?"

"Because, Helga, unlike regular Mutants, they will not initiate their attacks. They are like Wraiths in that they are imperceptible, however their similarities end there. Unless they allow you to, you cannot see Leeches. They keep themselves concealed within barriers completely invisible to the naked eye. Once they choose a victim, they can read your deepest fears and call those victims to their barriers and into their nests. There, they'll feed off your insecurities, anxieties and fears. And for ordinary humans, once they enter a Leech's barrier, they cannot escape. Few people have made it out alive and they've all been Guardians. The rest have died from having experienced such terrors."

She stopped there, giving me the time to digest everything, but the silence became so deafening that I could feel my eardrums beating wildly. The air seemed colder, coursing up and down my arms, and my hands tingled. And yet my blood was burning, pushing up and hissing against my skin. What had I gotten myself into? What had Nel gotten me into?

I didn't want it—any of it.

I wanted to curl up beneath my covers and sleep. Only I didn't want to wake, not this time. I didn't want to face this new reality—I was still a kid; how could I defend everybody from . . . whatever this was?

"Why me?" I whispered, in a way that reminded me of cracked glass. It was so quiet that for a moment, I thought Nel hadn't heard me.

She hesitated, staring at me with a pained expression before sighing.

"That I do not know," she uttered and looked towards the windows that overlooked the city's lights. The night was dark and it reflected in her jaded eyes. "I can only assume there is something about you—something strong. Otherwise, the pin wouldn't have chosen you."

My stomach had sunken and I had to press my lips tight together to resist throwing up. Instead, I followed her gaze out the window. The night cackled with static as bright pink glistened from the skyscrapers, shining through the glass and washing across my carpet.

Finally, I found my voice.

"There isn't another way?" And when Nel turned back to me, incredulously, I added, "There isn't an option that doesn't involve fighting?"

The stress melted from her face when she realised she had nothing to worry about and slowly, she took a steady breath, shaking her head.

"No—all we can do is fight." Something in her voice made me turn back to her. Her eyes were worn. "If we don't fight, how can we win?"

"Uh, okay—didn't know we had this here before."

I hadn't known what to expect when Nel and I had gotten off that town bus. She had been curled up in my bag, since cats weren't technically allowed on public transport, but had made hissing sounds when our stop had approached. Sounds that were so blatantly unsubtle, that passengers had looked in my direction before moving their kids away. Yeah, thanks Nel, I always wanted strangers to think there was something wrong with me.

Anyway, the stop in question had been across from a gas station. It hadn't seemed unordinary until I actually had gotten off the bus, and the transport had already disappeared around the corner. Because, as Nel put it, we were off to find a space for me to train. A gas station hadn't exactly been what I had in mind. Honestly, I was expecting something like the wrestling ring or something. When I voiced these concerns to her, she merely rolled her eyes and started walking down the road. Pretty rude if you asked me, but hey, she's the expert. So, I'd followed her, and after getting to a certain spot down the road, we had travelled into the thicket of the forest that skirted the highway.

Thankfully, it wasn't one of those forests that had cliffs, or deep ledges, but it was still pretty thick. The air hung heavy from the moisture that soaked the moss–covered trees. And everything was just so green—violently so. I was pretty much sick of the colour by the time we got here.

Here being . . . a telephone booth.

Yeah, I hadn't been expecting that either.

It was so oddly placed; nestled against one of the largest trees I'd seen, the green roots twisted around the booth from the side. It was so brightly coloured; a fire truck shade of red up against green bark that curled up into the canopy of the forest.

I looked down at the cat sitting next to my ankles. "It's a phone booth, Nel."

"Yes, Helga," Nel's gaze didn't leave the small structure in front of us. "It is a phone booth. Although I prefer to call it a telephone booth."

"Why is it a phone booth?"

"Telephone," she stressed, scowling at me. "And because it is how we get to the training facility. Honestly, Helga, were you not listening?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, we mustn't be on the same page," I crouched to her level. She glanced at me questioningly. "How are we supposed to get to the training facility if instead you've taken me to a PHONE BOOTH IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WOODS INSTEAD?!"

Grimacing, Nel drew her ears back against her head. Her face scrunched into a glare, which she turned against mine.

"Yes, it is a phone booth and in the middle of the woods. Therefore, it will not draw the attention of regular people."

"That doesn't make sense!" I exclaimed. "There's nothing more likely to draw my attention then a phone booth in the middle of the woods!"

"Yes, but it is not accessible to them," she stressed through gritted teeth and motioned towards the door. "Now for goodness' sake, just trust me and go inside."

Gritting my teeth, I threw my fists to my sides and rose back to my feet. "Stupid cat—"

I took a step forward, not seeing the roots in front of my feet, and next thing I knew, my face had smacked into the ground.

A gush of pain throbbed in my nose and I lifted my face to spit out the dirt from my mouth. Sliding my hands over the ground, I pushed myself up into a sitting position to rub the left over dirt in my eyes.

Ah, nuts—now my uniform was all gross–looking. I couldn't get away with not washing it now, I guess I had to add laundry to my list of—

"Are you quite done, Helga?" Opening my eyes, I saw Nel sitting against the still–closed door, her tail snapping in the air behind her. "Come on, we haven't got all day."

Screwing my mouth to the side, I growled but obeyed, pushing myself to my feet and moving towards the booth. I kept my eyes on the ground, looking for any roots with antagonistic intent, and when I looked back up, it was to Nel's disapproving glare.

"You certainly took your time, Helga," she stated, motioning towards the door. I rolled my eyes but yanked open the door, and we both piled in. It was nothing special, a cramped space with a public phone and even a phonebook.

Huh, I hadn't seen one of those in years now.

Turning back to Nel, I opened my mouth to ask what other inane nonsense she wanted us to do. But she cut me off before I could even get one word out.

"Now, if you're done dilly–dallying, we can finally begin our tasks. Oh, and close your mouth Helga, you are not a fish. And shut the door, please."

You know, between my being larger than her and having superpowers, Nel was really beginning to push her luck. Gritting my teeth, I shut the door behind me and turned to look at her challengingly.

"Now what?"

"Now take out your pin," she instructed. Digging into my blazer, I pulled out my bird–shaped pin. The metal was cold from having not been used since last night. "Hold it in front of the scanner."

I stared at her. "Okay, what scanner, Einstein? We're in a booth."

She looked up with impatience, as if she were talking to an idiot. "Up there, Helga. Look directly in front of you."

Alright, this cat was officially on drugs. It was bad enough that Nel could talk, but now she was seeing things? Criminy, maybe this was a prank show—

Hey, when'd that scanner get there?

It had escaped my notice before but there was a tiny black box poking above the phone on the wall. The box was small and no bigger than my thumb.

"Now," Nel continued, "hold your phone in front of it."

I gave her a hesitant look, which she met with a small, somewhat encouraging nod. So, gripping the pin, I rose the bird's eye to the box. A blue beam of light shot out from the box and illuminated both our faces. I jumped back, but Nel remained still, watching it knowingly. The light traced up and down the pin then vanished as the box melded into the door.

I blinked, my hand falling to my side. "What the hell was that?"

Ignoring my question, Nel sunk to the ground with a determined glare. "Hold onto something, it has a bit of a kick."

"Erm, whaddya—"

The floor beneath our feet gave a low groan and weird noises came from the walls, before sharp sounds like branches snapping hit us. And the floor felt like it gave out as, like a rocket, Nel and I shot off.

Whoosh!

The force sent me tumbling to my feet and the back of my head smacked against the wall, earning a sympathetic grimace from Nel. Groaning, I rubbed the bruised spot—why was it always the head?

A blinding red light flashed, and wind whipped my hair into my face. I realised that the glass windows no longer showed the forest but now, a blackness. Looking closely, I noticed there was a rushing sensation, almost like we were . . . sinking. My eyebrows shot up, was this an elevator?

Then it was all gone—the light, the movements, the rush of air.

We hung in a silence, staring out the window that showed the same clouded darkness. Pressed against the wall, I was silent.

There was another groaning noise, and the glass door in front of us slowly began sinking into the ground. It made the darkness slowly creep open until light was flooding in. It was blinding and I groaned, covering my eyes before I even knew what was behind it.

I heard Nel stand and walk out of the booth.

"Finally," she mumbled to herself, then addressed me. "We're here, Helga."

Yeah, I figured.

My eyelids fluttered open and I strained to see past the harsh glare—

And gasped.

We were in a completely different space now. Like, totally different. Outside the door was an extremely spacious and open room. It was brightly lit, each of the walls matched the floor in an extremely pristine shade of white. A rectangular window almost covered a good third of the left wall and next to it was a plain door.

Slowly, I climbed to my feet and stumbled out of the booth.

Whoosh!

Startled, I whirled around, and realised that the door had completely vanished. Jaw dropped, I now faced a blank wall, that was practically glowing from its paleness.

"Um," I turned to Nel, who sat a couple of feet from me. "How are we supposed to get back now?"

"Really Helga, do you think I would allow us to get trapped down here?" Nel shook her head. "As long as you have that pin, you may leave. It's your form of identification."

I looked down into my pocket, pulling it open to peek at the pin. It was still there, nestled between the scrunched–up balls of tissues, with its eyes almost sparkling at me.

Swallowing, I examined the high walls with wonder; it seemed impossible that all this was connected to an ordinary looking phonebooth. Well, as ordinary as you could get for in the middle of the woods. The ceiling was so high; the walls stretched further then the length of my three–storey house. I wonder how far underground we even were . . .

"How'd you even get this place here?" I asked, turning back to the cat. It was a conclusion that didn't really make sense in my mind, but how else would this stuff be down here. It wasn't like regular people had built all of this.

"That doesn't matter Helga. What does is training you into a formidable soldier," she said, looking at me analytically. "Someone the people can firmly put their trust in. I will admit, you surprised me last night with how quickly you got the hang of your powers, but do not consider it as anything but luck. Compared to other Mutants, that one was relatively powerless. If you want to make it out of the fights to come, you're going to have to let me train you and for that to happen, you need to have complete trust in me, is that clear?"

The words slid from her tongue and her violet eyes became lasers. But, unlike the other times, they weren't full of anger, but of determination—hope.

Silently, I nodded.

"Good," she nodded back in response. "Now, transform."

Rolling my eyes, I gave a salute. "Right, boss."

She glowered at the name, and I grasped the pin tightly between my fingers. I stuck the spike through my shirt and an exhilarating feeling travelled through my veins, and I cracked a smile.

"My Inner Guardian: Exo—"

"You don't have to yell that anymore."

I paused, my hand awkwardly in the air, and looked at the nonchalant cat. She stared back at me, deadpanned, and I cleared my throat, impatient at having been interrupted.

"What?"

"That phrase," she said. "You don't have to say it anymore."

"Why not?"

She actually looked disappointed with my question. "Really, Helga, don't you think that perhaps suddenly shouting 'My Inner Guardian: Exorior' would look the slightest bit suspicious? It would bring an unnecessary amount of attention to yourself. Say it in your mind instead."

I huffed, rolling my eyes, but silently agreed with her. Technically, it would be foolish to do that, but still, she could have told me that before.

Clearing my throat, I punched my hand into the air again and thought over those words just as clearly as I'd said them.

My Inner Guar—

"Oh, and also," Nel chose to interrupt again, and looked up in thought. Irritation flashed hot, and I clenched my teeth together. "Now that you've officially named yourself, the phrase should become 'Blue Jay: Exorior . . ."

She looked ready to continue but trailed off when she noticed the look on my face. She paused, blinked, then slightly frowned with confusion. "Is there something the matter?"

I crossed my arms. "May I please transform now?"

Offense sparked in her eyes, and she huffed but relented a single nod.

Drama Queen.

Rolling my eyes, I punched the air above my head.

Blue Jay: Exorior!

A blast of warm, summer magic shot out from the pin and wrapped around me like a breeze. Sweet scents rolled over me as rainbows danced across my face. The magic waltzed across my skin like glitter. Sequins knitted together as my body lifted from the ground. I shut my eyes with a small smile. Time stilled but I could feel my clothes shortening, my limbs growing, and my hair curling around my shoulders. Light curled around my fingers like someone was holding my hand.

And then, it was over, and I was standing in the room as her.

As Blue Jay.

The overwhelming power that went through me was a river. It rushed and bloomed, feeling like hot summer skies. The honeyed feeling beaded across my skin. I couldn't keep myself from smiling. I felt amazing—dazzling. Light spilled out from my feet and spread across the floor in shimmering masses. There was a beating in my heart that I wanted to match; I wanted to turn around and run. I didn't know where, I didn't care. But I knew, wherever it was, I would get far. It was like I had woken from a thousand year nap, or I'd been injected with an awareness of the chains that had been wrapped around me, keeping me pinned in one place. But now, I had the strength to break free. I wanted to break free. My mind was racing so fast with possibilities that it made everything numb, and my blood thrived beneath my skin like it had wings.

Hair spilled across my shoulders as I looked down, clenching my hands into fists. There was a jolt that pushed from my fingers to my biceps, where suddenly, I felt like I could do anything. I could tear things apart, then put them back together. I could smash walls, throw cars, bend metal—anything I wanted.

These sensations, it was certainly going to take some getting used to. But criminy, who was I to complain?

A door slammed shut behind me and I spun around. Temporarily, I was taken back by how fast I moved, and blinked a couple of times. Right, I'd forgotten—Blue Jay's reflexes were much quicker than Helga's.

I pulled my attention back to the task at hand and realised that Nel had moved to the door next to the window. Slightly frowning, I crossed the room towards the window.

It looked dark, almost black, on the other side of the window. I could only make out Nel's head, poking up from the bottom, and the large chair she was sat on. There was a glowing keyboard, and her attention was so focused on running her paws along the keys, she hadn't even noticed my presence.

Raising my brow, I gave a swift knock to the glass.

She paused, looking up for a second and scanning my attire, before returning back to her typing.

"Hey, Nel!" I frowned. "What the hell? What am I supposed to do now?"

Nel threw me a displeasing look and reached over the keyboard to press a random button. Mechanical noises came from every corner in the room, and I spun back around. I don't know what I'd been expecting, but I was met with the same blank walls, and was prepared to turn back around to continue yelling when a beam of light zapped into existence from the other side of the room.

The light stuttered and shimmied, forming into the shape of a human. It was tall, with broad shoulders, strong limbs, and no facial features.

I was genuinely amazed and let out a low whistle. "Wow, impressive hologram, Nel."

It was like I'd walked straight into a Star Wars movie.

The figure threw its fists to its sides, pushing back its shoulders, then took off into a powerful charge. I lifted a brow, admiring its graceful movements. The way it moved, it bolted across the room like an Olympic champion. Each one of its might strides was worth at least two of mine.

It actually looked kinda intimidating. I crossed my arms, my heart twisting in my chest. Boy, would I hate to be on the receiving end of that thing.

. . . Wait.

The breath halted in my throat. Was it charging at me?

Alarm bells went off in my head when the figure crossed more than half the room and wasn't showing any signs of stopping or slowing down. Its featureless face was trained in my direction and never once did it look away.

. . . Oh, shit, it actually was charging for me.

"Criminy, what's it doing?!" I screamed, throwing myself up against the window behind me. "Nel, make it stop!"

She didn't respond—the dirty coward.

"Nel!" My shoes slid across the floor as I tried pressing myself further into the window. "Whaddya doin'?! Stop it!"

"I'm not going to fight your battles, Helga," I jumped when Nel's voice suddenly boomed from every corner of the room. "You have to learn to fight for yourself. No more running and instead taking a stance and—"

My hoarse scream cut off her microphoned voice when the hologram suddenly appeared in front of me. My knees were buckling, and I had to tilt my head back just to look up at its face. Jiminy cricket, how tall was this fucking thing? The figure drew its hand back over its extremely broad shoulder—seriously, those things looked like boulders—but before it could swing, I collapsed to my knees and covered my head with my hands. I didn't hear any glass breaking, but I could feel the vibrations when its fist smashed into the window.

Shit, fuck—this hologram was actually solid.

Clenching my teeth, I slowly looked back up and squeaked. The figure was standing over me, its fist still against the intact window, and its face had turned down to look at me. It didn't have facial features, but if it did, I could tell it'd be giving me an extremely nasty glare right now. The figure lifted its leg to deliver a kick, but I quickly scrambled between its legs and scurried away on my hands and knees.

Mentally, I was doing a little victory dance at my quick thinking but could feel a heated glare boring into my shoulders. My heart was throbbing in my chest, and I totally didn't want to, but I looked anyway. The hologram looked positively furious now, and again I squeaked. I didn't bother questioning how a faceless hologram could look so angry and instead scrambled to my feet.

I stumbled slightly—stupid heels—and let out a massive howl before sprinting off with the hologram hot on my heels.

"Helga,  stop  running away!"

I did not stop running away.

"You try fighting it then, you coward!" I barked over my shoulder, more than aware that the hologram was getting way too close. I tried urging my legs to pick up speed, but as it turned out, that was difficult to do in heels.

"Shit!"

My ankle gave out and I suddenly found myself slamming face first into the—

Thunk!

—ground.

Groaning, I rubbed my pounding forehead and cursed these stupid heels. Who the fuck designed this costume, Malibu Barbie?

The hairs on my neck shot up and I rolled over.

CRACK.

Heart in my throat, I slowly looked over my shoulder, and gulped. Hairline cracks had formed in the middle of the floor—right where I had been laying. The fissures extended like spiderwebs from beneath the hologram's large fist.

I glared at Nel. "You gave this thing super strength?! What the fu—WHOA!"

Before I could finish, the hologram had leapt at me with another bunch. I rolled away, swinging around onto my feet, but staggered again. These fucking heels—why were they so stupidly high? I couldn't do anything in them. Biting my lip, I tried throwing my weight onto my heels, and held my hands up defensively. There was a moment as the hologram watched me—well, I assumed anyway—before it lunged again. Grunting, I twisted to the side, and its clenched fist flew past my face. It glanced my shoulder and my stomach curled. I could feel its power pulsating through its hands. This thing could easily land me straight in the hospital if it wanted.

"NEL—"

The hologram's fist jammed into my windpipe and cut off my cry. I fell onto my side, grasping at my throat and hacking. I tried getting the air to flow back into my body and a blunt force to my nose sent me flying back onto my back. A throbbing encompassed my face and I blinked as spots shimmered across the ceiling. Since when did we have stars down here?

Something clasped my ankle and I was yanked, screaming, across the floor. The hologram dragged me into the air, dangling me like I weighed nothing, then began spinning in circles. The walls and floors merged into a continuous mass of white and my stomach jammed into my throat. I don't know how many times it had spun around but when the pressure around my ankle had disappeared, I was flying across the room.

"Craaaaaaaaaaaa—"

BANG!

And face first, I was sent into the wall.

I could feel Nel face palming from across the room at that. Hell, I'm sure even the hologram felt embarrassed for me. And I certainly was—embarrassed, that is.

Moaning, I landed in a pile on the ground. Painful waves wracked through me. Something wet dripped from my nose. Hesitantly, I reached to touch it when a burning sensation flared. I hissed and yanked my hand away.

Blood.

The wall was spinning. I pushed against it but didn't rip my gaze away from the blood along my fingers.

My head moved slowly in the hologram's direction. It hadn't moved and stood tall and powerful as it waited for me to make the first move.

I scowled. Okay, that does it.

I reached up to wipe the blood from my nose. It made a painful bolt flash down my face. Then, without looking away, I reached into my boot for my knife. The blade felt cold but secure in my hand. Seconds pounded against my skin. I swallowed then launched the knife. It hurtled in the hologram's direction, faster than lightning. The hologram was faster and managed to dodge it, giving me the opening that I needed.

The floors were woozy, but I bolted. The hologram's attention followed the knife as it clanged into the wall behind it. I leapt into the air and sent my foot heel first into the hologram's side. It stumbled backwards. I landed on the balls of my feet. Heat swam across my face. Tightening my fists, I launched into a defensive stance. The pounding in my chest filled my ears. The hologram mirrored my stance.

I glanced where its eyes would be then dashed forward. Twirling on the balls of my feet, I dug my foot into the side of its head. My hair hit my eyes and I growled, scraping it back, and struck again, aiming for the other side of its head. But the hologram blocked my attack with its forearm. I aimed a kick for its stomach but sensing my motive, the hologram's hand flashed and wrapped around my foot.

I froze—shit.

"Don't—" I began in a low voice, "—you dare."

Oh, but it did.

Tightening its grip, it twisted my foot sideways. I screamed, finding myself being jerked to the side, and threw my hands around like they were windmills. Then, the hologram heaved my body like it was a bag of rice into the air, and for a moment, another blur of white overtook my vision. My stomach entangled with itself as I spun in the air before I crashed back into the ground, head knocking against the floor.

I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut as everything spun so much that I wanted to puke. Why was this so hard?

Maybe if I laid here long enough, I'd wake up in my bed to the sound of my alarm screeching at me to get up because holy shit, I only had ten minutes to get ready and catch the bus.

A whistling alerted me of an incoming fist.

My eyes shot open and I rolled over onto my side. There was a thud! followed by a crack! from where it hit the ground. I landed on the balls of my feet as hair spilled over my shoulders like fabric.

Slowly, I turned back to the hologram.

It was hunched like a predator and slowly rose to its feet. I watched its movements stretch into a colossal figure that towered over me. I gulped. Fear sat cold in my chest. The ground trembled from its footsteps.

Somewhere along the way, I realised that I was shaking. It was to a point that it became harder to move. I couldn't even flinch as the hologram drew its fist over its shoulder to attack. My eyes snapped shut in preparation, waiting for the inevitable, but then, my body acted on its own. My leg swept underneath the hologram's feet and sent it to the ground with a sickening crack.

Something flickered in my chest. Where the hell had that come from? But I shoved that question out of the way in favour of getting the hell out of here.

Good plan.

I shakily climbed to my feet and attempted to run when something wrapped around my ankle. It gave a rough tug that sent me face first into the tiles. The pain that coursed through me was like a jolt of electricity, and instinctive tears popped into my eyes. My nose pulsated hot and blood spurted out, soaking the tiles.

Gritting my teeth, I kicked against the hand around my ankle but there was another tug, and I was pulled closer toward the fallen hologram. And before I could blink, its large weight settled onto my stomach and my shoulders were pinned back by its knees.

The blood continued to pour, over my lips and into my teeth. It swirled to the back of my throat and made me choke. A hand seized my collar and yanked me up, so the hologram's face loomed over my own. I gasped, unintentionally drawing in more blood that made me hack even harder. I tried wiggling my arms underneath the hologram's legs, but the weight had left me completely restricted. The most I could do was stretch out my hand and—

Wait.

My eyes widened.

That was it!

The hologram reeled back its fist again. But I focused on sliding my palm out across the floor, pointed at the roof, spreading my fingers wide. There was a tingling beneath my nails when—

Its fist suddenly lunged at me and I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut, and waited for the pain.

Shing!

Only none came.

My eyes opened. And then my jaw dropped.

The hologram's fist hung centimetres from my face, frozen in the air. I slowly traced my gaze from its fist up to its face. The entire figure had ceased movement, like someone had randomly hit a pause button, and now sat motionlessly like a statue on my stomach.

I rose a brow. Why had—

That's when I noticed the head of the hologram, or rather what was embedded in its head—my knife.

"Oh, fuck monkeys."

The hologram suddenly became fuzzy, blinking in and out of focus, before cutting out completely. The pressure on my chest disappeared and I sucked in a large and relieved breath. Something electrifying shot up my spine and I found myself sitting up, hand stretched out, and catching my knife by the blade.

I stared at the weapon in my hand before sighing and laying back onto the ground, exhausted.

My arms felt like they were on fire. The pounding in my chest pressed so hard against my back that it felt like it was smacking hard against the tiles. But the ground was like ice to my skin. I spread my arms out like they were wings. The knife tumbled from my fingers, but I didn't bother picking it up.

I just closed my eyes and enjoyed the peace.

Beads of sweat rolled down my face and my lungs felt like they would burst. A familiar pulse in my nose brought to my attention the metallic taste still in my mouth.

Opening my eyes, I reached up and touched my nose. It was a feather touch but that didn't stop the pain. It seared from the nostrils all the way to the back of my head, curling and radiating like boiling water.

I grimaced, pulling back my hand, and looking at the red on my fingers.

And like that, my exhaustion turned to anger.

"NEL!"

The ground lurched as I stumbled my way back to Nel's window. And that dumb cat actually had the nerve to look annoyed with me—annoyed. As if somehow, between my running for my life and being beaten to a pulp, I had managed to offend her.

Said offended cat sighed, pressing down on a circular button. "Yes, what is it, Helga?"

Of course, Nel would make it sound like it'd been me who had done something wrong.

"You dragged me here, to this ugly, abandoned forest—" I stopped outside the window. "—where I fell over—and I'm pretty sure I'm going to catch poison ivy—had me ride an unstable elevator and, without any warning, forced me to fight some freaky Star Trek hologram, which beat the socks off me—and before you say I'm 'simply overreacting, Helga', take a good look at my nose. I didn't get this from nothin'!" I gestured angrily to the bloody mess on my face and watched Nel's gaze stray from my eyes to my nose, then back down to her keyboard. "While you have the nerve to sit there—safely —behind your bullet proof glass and lecture me on your little microphone. And then sound angry when I'm even slightly annoyed at this?"

Nel glanced up sharply but didn't open her mouth with a response. So, I continued and threw up my arms for extra emphasis as I began to pace up and down.

"I mean, for criminy's sake! You didn't even warn me before you sprung that bloody thing onto me! I could've been injured, y'know! Hell, I was injured! You say I need to trust you but you're making it really freakin' difficult if you don't give me a little heads up once in a while! I mean, geeze!"

Silence hung in the air. Nel didn't respond right away, instead she shifted her face to the side with an uncomfortable look in her eyes. Panic flared in my chest as for a moment, I worried that I'd said too much. This whole thing, after all, was larger than the both of us. It wasn't about me anymore, it was about protecting my home. But my nose gave another painful throb, as if to remind me of my original point, and I quickly shoved those thoughts to the back of my mind.

I wiped away some more of the blood and glared at the black cat, waiting for her response.

Eventually, she sighed and looked back at me.

"Yes. You're right."

I nodded.

"I do need you to trust me. As I've said, trusting me will allow me to train you into becoming a soldier," her eyes hardened. I looked away. "Acantha's army is one of great strength and will be extremely difficult to defeat. And for now, you, Helga, are the only Guardian and therefore the only one eligible to defeat that army. That makes it you versus thousands, perhaps millions. Yes, my methods will seem harsh, especially given how little you know about combat, but you must believe me when I say that everything I teach you is for the best. Yes, perhaps I should've given you a warning as this is your first time and, for that, I apologise. But you cannot expect Acantha or her army to ever give you a warning either. You cannot expect kindness or courtesy from your enemies. They will not wait for you. You must always remain on your guard and ready to jump into the action—do you understand?"

At first, I didn't answer.

The air thickened until it had become a weight that threatened to snap my bones. I had glanced up from my shoes to look back at Nel.

"Do you understand, Helga?"

I blinked, my eyesight suddenly getting blurry. This was all so much to handle. I barely could even process her words. They were a whirl in my mind, melting everything into a soft, dizzying paste. But I forced myself to look back at her. Her eyes had hardened over her speech but when they met mine, they softened. She knew what she was asking of me—she knew the sacrifices that were required—but there wasn't anything she could do to make it better.

So, I nodded.

She nodded back and turned to her keyboard, typing. I wondered what it was that she was doing but decided against asking. There was something else I felt needed to be said.

"Nel," my voice was quiet, but I didn't let my gaze wander. Nel looked up in curiosity. "I'm . . . I'm sorry," I inhaled deeply. "F–For yelling at you, I mean. It's not fair, you're only trying to train me . . . none of this is your fault."

Her eyes widened. I couldn't blame her. In the short time we'd known each other, I'm sure she had put together that I wasn't one to regularly give out apologies. But nonetheless, she managed a small, grateful smile.

"Thank you, Helga."

Her voice was calm. But I had the feeling that she wasn't thanking me only for the apology.

I didn't understand Nel; not where she came from, nor what went on in her mind. But I didn't need to. I trusted her.

The corners of my mouth twitched as I nodded in reply.

Turning back to the keyboard, Nel pressed a familiar red button.

Low groans that I recognised filled the room and I turned around with a raised brow—

Wait, what?

I froze when my gaze landed on not one, but six glowing figures on the other end of the room, all glaring at me.

"NEL!"

"You know, you could've at least warned me before springing six more holograms on me, Nel."

Her tail was wrapped tight around her body. She sighed, rolling her eyes. "You're really going over this again, Helga?"

The ice was cool and welcoming on the flaming flesh around my eye.

"You're absolutely right, Nel," I scowled. "At this point, I'm just being selfish. Getting beaten by those six sci–fi freaks is completely my fault, isn't it?"

"If you," Nel began with exasperation, "had only been paying attention when that hologram had—"

"There were six of them, Nel!" The ice pack fell onto my lap as I threw my arms into the air. "Six!"

Nel opened her mouth to respond when a shriek suddenly cut her off—one that hadn't come from either of us. Together, we exchanged dreaded looks—we knew what that sound meant.

And quite frankly, I was annoyed.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?!" I shouted, threading my hands through my hair. "Now, seriously?"

Nel didn't share my annoyance at the poor timing and glared into the distance. Well, considering she wasn't doing any of the fighting, I couldn't say I was surprised.

"It's the enemy!" she said, standing on all fours. "Come quickly, Helga, it's time to put that training to good use."

I simply stared at her.

And when she didn't get response, she looked back at me, furrowing her eyebrows. "What?"

"You cannot be serious," I said. "I just spent the last few hours taking down six of your dumb holograms, and I have a black eye."

"You do not have a choice, Helga," Nel countered. "The enemy will not sit and wait for you. Given the chance, it will drain the energy of and kill hundreds of civilians. Do you really want that on your hands?" She watched me intensely, before looking at my eye. "Besides by the time we get there, your eye should have healed. Now hurry and transform!"

I sighed.

Looks like my day wasn't over.

The screams became louder the deeper that we ran into the city. They punctured the air and made the knot in my throat grow larger. At first, I could identify them belonging to the Mutant; the level of terror it unleashed on me could only belong to a creature like that. But at some point, it became hard to distinguish that from the horrified screams of civilians that were being attacked. And those screams were soon accompanied with multiple crashes and deep cackles. Nel was quick to locate the distressing scene in the heart of the city.

"Thank God," she whispered to herself as she peered around a bricked wall. I could tell from how quickly she scanned the area that she was making a deduction of the Mutant. "It's only a Mutant. And not a particularly powerful one either—oh, Helga, do hurry up!"

Why that little—

I shot her a dirty look and half-limped my way to her, muttering under my breath. You see earlier, because of these stupid heels, I'd taken a small detour and face-planted along the sidewalk—into someone's rose bush.

The thorns had scrapped across my skin so now I looked like a massive train-wreck. If the training hadn't been enough to knock Blue Jay's beauty from me, two-inch thorns certainly was.

Even worse, I now stunk of roses.

God fucking damn—I don't even like roses.

I gave Nel a final ugly look as I gripped the edge of the brick wall. Grumbling, I peered around to assess the situation for myself . . . and felt something shrivel up inside when my eyes took in the sight before me. Pulling away, I slammed my back against the wall and kept my stare focused straight ahead.

"Still," Nel continued, unaffected with my minor breakdown. She peered around the corner at the Mutant. "You shouldn't act too hasty with this one. It appears that its strength lies primarily in its arms."

Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

I glanced at Nel.

"I'm sorry," I frowned, "but how is this one not powerful?"

She glanced at me briefly then returned to watching the Mutant. I released an irritated breath but mirrored her actions and looked around the corner towards the roads where the Mutant wreaked havoc.

I recognised the road as the one that led to the city's shopping market. It was a perfect target for victims as it was a main road. Cars always snaked the pavement as people often stopped at the cafés on their way to work. Today was no different, as it seemed even more crammed than usual. But up ahead the reason for the commotion.

The Mutant was hideous, large and green. It had a wide, muscular chest and long, stumpy legs. Large, black pupils pierced from its bald, egg–shaped head and it had a full, sharp mouth. Its arms were vine–like and almost twice its size with four long fingers at the ends.

It totally looked like if Poison Ivy had been a dude.

I gasped. Poison Ivan.

Throwing back its head, Poison Ivan let out a howl as if it were screaming to the heavens that it was ready for a fight. I covered my ears and gulped. Fuck, I was going to have to fight that.

"How the hell," I glared down at the wincing cat by my feet, "am I supposed to defeat that?"

Nel's ears were pulled back in response to the Mutant's cries.

"You're going to have to find its weakness," she answered weakly.

I could've slapped her.

"Yes," I snapped. "Thank you so much for stating the obvious!"

Our attention was drawn back to the street when Poison Ivan's arms shot out towards a couple sitting in a red car. The couple managed to scramble away but the car was flung high into the air and landed with a tremendous crash on its roof. Glass scattered everywhere, and beams of sunlight rebounded from their edges.

"Helga, get ready." Nel said with a nod. "You're needed."

I hesitated. "But Nel—"

"Just go!"

Poison Ivan let out another terrifying growl as its arms shot out for a quivering man frozen in terror. He was crawled into a ball next to a car and his skin looked an eerie shade of white. The poor guy didn't move and only stared as the clawed hand flew closer and closer to his face. The hand was a few feet from him when he let out a horrified and cracked scream.

"Hey! Ass-butt!"

Poison Ivan froze. Its attention went from the terrified man to the voice. It searched for where that powerful feminine sound had come from.

Me.

Heart pounding, I stood on top of a car roof a safe's distance away from the Mutant. Sunlight flooded from behind me, I could feel the warmth sliding past my shoulders as the hazy glow surrounded the back of my head like a crown. Despite the situation, I couldn't contain the slight smirk. I had my hands on my hips and a shadow draped past me like it was a cape. I totally looked like a badass right now.

"Who're you?!" Poison Ivan demanded.

I made eye contact with the frightened man behind them. They had thankfully become forgotten by the Mutant, so I mouthed, 'Go!' But the realisation didn't catch up to him until I had nudged my head in a random direction. He shakily turned on his heel and sprinted out of danger. The Mutant either didn't notice or care about the escape as it continued to stare me down.

I cleared my throat and took a step forward. "I'm—"

But, as it turned out, lady luck was not on my side and (for perhaps the fourth time today) my ankle gave out. Screeching, I found myself sliding off the car and plummeting towards the ground.

Thump!

My cartilages cried out in pain and tears welled up in my eyes. Throbbing sensations assaulted my nose and I bit my lip to mask it. It wasn't the worst pain I'd felt today, but, with all the fighting I'd done already, it was certainly worse then what it should've been. My arms shook as I pushed myself up from the ground and sat on my knees. The world was spinning too rapidly so, with shaky fingers, I brushed away the tears from my eyes and sucked in a silent breath.

An awkward silence had taken place as I slowly climbed back to my feet. I could feel both the stares of Nel and the Mutant as they watched me stumble.

Flames danced along my cheeks; great, what a smooth impression you're making, Helga. Seriously, I can tell why you were chosen.

Shut up.

Planting my feet further apart, I placed my hands back onto my hips and turned back to the Mutant. Poison Ivan was still staring at me with confusion, no doubt questioning what it had just witnessed, but I chose to ignore that part. The humiliation wasn't worth it, I was still incredibly vexed right now.

You see, I had a personal bone to pick with this Mutant.

It had, after all, pushed back my time at home further into the day. Normally, I wasn't thrilled about being there but, after the past few hours of Nel's training, I've decided I much preferred it.

I took a step forward (and didn't trip this time—thank God, because that would've been ungodly humiliating) and pointed an accusing finger at the Mutant.

"I am Blue Jay—Defender of Justice and Champion of Hillwood!" I announced. "How dare you attack innocent people! As a Guardian, I will defend my people! So, on behalf of them—fuck off!"

The Mutant stared at me like I'd just pulled glitter from my pocket and sung it happy birthday. It didn't say anything, but its wide demonic eyes were glued to mine. Another uncomfortable silence swarmed like flies. This silence felt worse than the earlier one. I swear, I could actually hear crickets chirping this time.

I looked to the side and caught sight of a small ball of tumbleweed blowing in the distance. I rose a brow as the wind pushed the small ball to the other side of the road. Since when did we have tumbleweed in Hillwood?

My eyes flickered back to the Mutant when it began cackling. Its eyes met mine and it's laughter grew in volume. I couldn't help the irritation that hit me; of all reactions to give, it chose laughter? The Mutant doubled over, clutching its stomach, and let out another loud howl.

I frowned and crossed my arms. "Excuse me, Poison Iv—"

"I'm sorry—" It actually surprised me by not only apologising but also wiping a lone tear from its left eye. It covered its mouth with its long hand as if to rid itself of its amusement. I rose a brow as, slowly but surely, its laughter died. Letting loose a calming breath, it stood to its full height and regarded me with a smirk. "It's just . . . I can't take you seriously! With that f-fall—and the speech—gah! And I'm supposed to be afraid of you?!"

As the Mutant launched into another fit of laughter, I gritted my teeth in exasperation and felt a vein beginning to pop in my hands. I so very, very desperately wanted to hit this Mutant, but decided that now perhaps wasn't the time. Breathing through my flared nostrils, I forced myself to remain patient and wait.

Another few moments passed and the Mutant still hadn't stopped laughing.

Clenching my jaw, I decided now was a good time to retry my introduction.

"I—" I spoke with a deeper tone, one that was threaded with barely disguised anger, "—am Blue Jay. Defender of—"

"Yeah, yeah—I got it!" The Mutant interrupted, waving a dismissive hand in the air.

Reluctantly, I shut my mouth. It'd been such a good speech; one that I'd been repeating over and over in my head as Nel and I raced to the city. I'd even made minor edits and additions so I'd come across as a force to be reckoned with. A badass, if you will.

Perhaps I oughta write it down instead.

The Mutant lifted its shoulder up in a half-shrug and tilted its oval-shaped head to the side. Its eyes traced my form slowly, taking in my stance and build, before narrowing with warning. All signs of laughter became absent, and it let out a dismissive scoff.

From the corners of my eyes, I checked for any nearby civilians lingering about. I tried throwing my senses—sound, sight and intuition—to feel any presences stuck in their cars or hellbent on filming this. Everything read null and I held up my shaky fists to my face and glared at the Mutant.

"Heh," The Mutant scrunched up its face. "And they said you'd be difficult—as if. This shouldn't be more than ten minutes."

"They?" I repeated with a raised brow. "Who said—?"

Before I could finish my question, the Mutant fired an attack at me. It swung out its arms and, like ropes, vines were launched in my direction.

I dived for the ground and wrapped my arms over my head. I heard a crash from above me that left my ears ringing. Opening my eyes, I scanned my arms and legs for any injuries but came up empty (aside from those from the training session, of course).

I smiled. Thank god for my reflexes.

Looking up, the smile fell from my face when I caught sight of the gaping hole in the wall behind me. My jaw dropped—the size of the hole was large enough to fit Phoebe through it!

"You idiot!" I barked at the Mutant.

Immediately, I leapt to my feet and jumped out of the way, narrowly avoiding another intended death strike. I heard another crash but quickly bolted, yelling over my shoulder, "Your aiming sucks!"

Sprinting down the street, I could hear Poison Ivan's arms whizzing past me as it launched more attacks. I relied on my instincts and wove in-between cars and streetlights to narrowly dodge the strikes. Adrenaline coursed through my system as my legs took larger leaps. My blood felt like it was on fire, but I pushed my limbs to keep running forward.

Helga, what are you doing?! I heard Nel cry out, but I didn't slow. What did I tell you about running away?! You're a Guardian—fight!

Easy for her to say. She was watching from an alley without so much as a hair being touched. If I died, she could turn to the other Guardians, whoever they were. She had plenty to spare. But, for me, if I died, well, I died. There wasn't any coming back and I doubt my death would be quick and painless.

Still, a small voice spoke from the corners of my mind. You are a Guardian, are you not? What was it you said?

'I am Blue Jay—Defender of Justice and Champion of Hillwood!'

You're Blue Jay and you called yourself a defender and a Guardian. Is this what you call defending, running away?

Mind blank, I skidded to a stop. I could faintly hear Nel as she barked out orders at me—tell me to move, to look out, that I was an idiot for just standing there—but the blood that pumped in my ears was too loud. I was unable to move, rooted to the spot, but my mind was far off in the distance.

'How dare you attack innocent people! As a Guardian, I will defend my people!'

Not two minutes ago, I had spoken those words. Those words that had, for whatever reason, felt so familiar—so at home with me. I had declared my protection of this city, called these people my people.

'To me, Blue Jay represents a—I dunno—some type of protection?'

Phoebe.

My dear best friend. She hadn't witnessed the attack last night yet wholeheartedly believed in my abilities. She believed in me over the police and proclaimed me a hero.

Not only her—so had the entire school. They'd expressed gratitude and fascination with me. Today had been spent gossiping about the mysterious Blue Jay and her cool superpowers. They didn't know what that thing from last night was, but they still believed in Blue Jay's protection.

Surely, they must've seen something in Blue Jay—in me. Hell, Nel said that the pin had also sensed something in me that made me a worthy fit for the job. Perhaps there really was something that I couldn't see.

I balled my hands into trembling fists.

Fear curled in my stomach and gnawed at my gut. But I didn't allow it to show on my face. My eyes were steady; I was a Guardian, not a coward. It wasn't just me I was fighting for, it was . . .

A flash of blonde hair ran through my mind for a quick second. Squeezing my eyes shut, I shook the image from my head. No, he didn't have anything to do with this.

This battle was mine.

'You look at her and you think, 'Hope'. You think, 'I'm no longer afraid because I know that this woman won't ever let anything happen to me'.'

Letting out a small breath, I spun around to look the Mutant straight in the eye. It appeared surprised for a moment, its own eyes widening at my sudden movement. Then the corner of its mouth twitched before it sent a solid whip of vines bolting straight for me.

My nails were piercing my palms as I slid forward a hesitant foot. My body twitched with the impulse to run which, as the vines flew closer and closer, became harder and harder to resist.

Sucking in a small breath through my nose, I counted to three then let it out again. I shut my eyes and concentrated on the pounding of my heart. I blocked out the Mutant's cackles and Nel's distraught calls. My focus centred on my breathing and pulling forth any remaining strength I had. There was a powerful surge of something that rushed through me. It raced through my arms and sparkled at my fingertips.

Pushing forward another foot, I stretched out my arm, palm held up. I could hear the whip slicing through the air but forced myself to ignore it. Concentrating on the waves of power rushing through me, I felt something swirling in my gut. It travelled up my spine and vibrated along my arms in the form of goosebumps. I directed that energy to my palm where I could feel sparks nipping at my flesh.

Opening my eyes, I willed myself to form those sparks into a protective wall. One that would shield me from the Mutant's harm.

But nothing happened.

My eyes widened in horror.

The sparks at my palm vanished, and so did the feeling of immense power.

I was completely unprotected.

For a split second, I imagined myself outrunning it.

Spinning around, I'd managed to push a foot forward when something hot cut across my shoulder blade and sent me reeling forward onto my knees. Screaming, my hand flew to where the stinging resided. Thousands of needles erupted in my shoulder and I yanked my hand back. My stomach dropped when I caught sight of the red on my fingers. Looking at the concrete, I realised that it too was painted the same colour as my fingers.

Blood—my blood.

The realisation was ice cold. My powers—

Helga, run!

A stinging sensation ten times more powerful than the first struck my cheek and I felt myself flying through the air. There was a crash! as the back of my head bashed into something and a sharp crunch! as I landed on my stomach in a crumbled heap.

F–Fuck . . .

. . . there was a ringing in my ears—and I couldn't breathe. Something was pummelling in my chest. Strangled but shallow gasps for air surrounded me—or were they mine? Something was beating and it was loud—so loud it became intolerable and mingled with the sharp ringing.

A white-hot pain erupted from my shoulder. Fire speared both my leg and cheek, only it was worse in my leg. The slightest movement sent instant flashes of pain—I think it was my thigh. Something . . . something was piercing my thigh—why was it suddenly wet?

My eyes at some point had closed and I fought to keep them open. White spots danced along my vision. Blinking rapidly, I tried to calculate where I was—it wasn't in the streets. It was—somewhere inside. But where? Shapes surrounded me—shards of some sort. Shards of what? My vision was getting too blurry. I felt my head drop back down before I could figure it out.

There was something wet and sticky where I lay. What was it? Was I lying in a puddle? It wasn't raining. And it definitely wasn't water—it was too warm and thick. It smelt metallic and seeped through my clothes.

At the back of my mind, I heard something—no, someone calling my name . . . but I couldn't see them. No, I was . . . too tired. It was getting harder to . . . stay . . .

Fire suddenly flared up my thigh and my eyes burst open. I screamed in agony and twisted around to reach my leg. My gaze was blurry, and I had to stare for it to focus on my thigh—or rather, what was in my thigh.

A huge shard of glass.

My heart dropped.

The multiple shapes surrounding me were glass. They lay around me on the floor like tiny daggers. The light from the sun shone violently from them.

My eyes found the gaping window not a few feet from me. That's where they came from—the window! Looking around, I realised that I lay in the middle of a restaurant. One with pale tables and plush pink chairs. But it was abandoned—the owners and customers must've fled.

I suspected that it was smart if I did the same.

I tried crawling on my hands and knees but a sharp pain lanced through my thigh. I couldn't bite down on my lip in time to stop myself from crying out. My eyes fell on the glass that had sunk deep into my thigh. The flesh was flooded with blood, painting the white a darkening red. My body wouldn't be able to heal itself with that still in there.

Tears blurred my already wavering vision. My teeth were clattering so I quickly bit down on my lip to control it. Stop being such a baby, Helga. I whispered. It's like ripping off a band-aid.

Fighting away the voice at the back of my head that argued no, this is nothing like ripping off a band-aid, you idiot, I reached out a shaking hand. I grasped the shard tightly, ignoring when the skin broke and crimson slithered down my palm. Sucking in a deep breath, I shut my eyes and silently counted to three.

Now.

Pain. That's all I could feel—white, blinding hot pain. Searing fiery bursts pulsated from my leg. It was jarring—brutal. Tears spilled down my cheeks. Black swirled from the edges of my mind. There was a hoarse, heart-shattering scream and, with horror, I realised that it was mine.

My hand dropped the intact shard. I waited from the pulses to pass with a heavy chest, but they didn't. They spread further. I choked back a sob and clutched my hands to my chest.

There was a biting sensation from both my shoulder and cheek. My shoulder blade was wet and sticky. And something rose from my eye, I could feel it swelling. Touching a hand to my cheek, I realised it was a welt.

Tears dribbled down my chin as the reality hit me hard. This was real . . . all of this. This was all very real. Being a Guardian . . . wasn't about prancing around as a superhero. It wasn't about having millions of fans who believed in you. It wasn't about the cool powers or fun abilities. And it certainly wasn't about the talking cat.

Because none of that mattered. What mattered was . . . I could get hurt—I could die.

Footsteps—somewhere in the back of my mind, I could hear footsteps. But . . . where?

Biting my lip, I climbed back onto my hands and knees and began crawling. The sharp pain that flared up was almost enough to make me stop but I forced myself to keep going.

A low chuckling came from behind me.

"Didn't even last ten minutes," the voice sounded disappointed. "Seven, in fact."

I gritted my teeth but stayed silent.

Something smashed into the back of my skull and knocked me flat onto my stomach. Nausea twisted in my belly as the edges of my vision began darkening. My shoulder was dragged round so that I lay on my back, staring up into the Mutant's eyes. Its red eyes darkened and the corner of its mouth tilted up.

Its vines laced around my throat and squeezed. The Mutant's face loomed over mine—psychotic. My vision began to blur. I felt sick.

Nel, I thought weakly, I think this one you may have underestimated.

I felt my body leave the ground as the Mutant dragged me up into the air and closer to its face. The pressure around my neck became tighter. A psychotic grin stretched ear to ear.

The spots were getting bigger and clouded my vision. My heart was booming in my chest. Something brushed against my fingers—something sharp.

"It's a shame you didn't last longer," the Mutant's voice was taunting. "You were weak but certainly amusing. I'm sure my Master would've—"

I shoved the shard of glass straight into the Mutant's eye.

Instead of dark red, its eye socket pooled with a murky green that exploded onto my hand. Its remaining eye was glazed over in shock. The pressure from my neck was gone and I scrambled from its grasp, inhaling large gulps of air.

The Mutant blinked its remaining eye at me—and I leapt into action. Driving my closed fist into its eye, the Mutant fell to the ground in a large heap. I was on top of it immediately, straddling its waist. My fingers lunged for the shard and my stomach turned at the wet squishy noise as I yanked it from its eye socket. The Mutant screamed in agony and cupped its bloody eye. I clasped the glass shard in both hands and rose it high in the air. In a last attempt to save itself, its hands came up, spread across its face, and it let out another strangled cry. Its eye was full of terror, but I wasn't feeling particularly merciful.

The shard was clutched so tightly in my hands that my blood mixed with the Mutants. I let loose an animalistic cry as the shard fell and rose, over and over again. The Mutant's screams were swallowed by the third time it came down, but I barely noticed. The screams were replaced with a sickening wet thud every time the shard came back down.

All I could see was red. My body ached and cried for me to stop. My wounds burned in sync. The adrenaline was dying and now that the shard was out, thundering pulses from my thigh were becoming harder and harder to ignore.

Someone called out to me. I became aware of a tiny padding of feet—I counted two pairs. But I couldn't stop.

The shard kept coming down onto the Mutant's face, or what was left of it. There was too much blood, too much flesh. At some point, the shard, drenched in our blood, slipped from my grasp. Balling my fists, I threw clumsy punches. As my fists sunk into the flesh, I let out mad, strangled cries that only became louder.

I had to make sure it was dead.

Something knocked into my side and rammed me from the mangled body and onto the ground. Everything was spinning so much that I wanted to puke. I climbed to my hands and knees. My knife was at my side—I didn't question where it came from and quickly seized it.

"Helga—no!"

Nel leapt in the way and blocked my path. I froze, my hands stopping just an inch from her body. If she was at all scared, she didn't show it. She looked up at me with defiance. I noticed how deep her chest was moving and realised she was panting. But it wasn't out of exhaustion.

"N—Nel?" My voice was a whisper.

Her face composed but her eyes were sad—concerned.

"Yes, Helga—its me." She nodded and took a step forward. "It's alright."

My breath came out short and fast.

"N—Nel, it tried to—" my words faltered when my eyes fell on my hands.

Blood.

Green and red swirled together into a cloudy dark colour. My hands were covered in it. And my arms and clothes were splattered with it. I could only imagine how insane I looked.

The knife fell to the ground.

Nel stepped forward again with a questioning expression. "Helga?"

But my eyes weren't on her. Or my knife or even the mangled body. No, they were on my own trembling hands. The animalistic urges were gone, and my mind was reeling. Why had I lost it like that?

A small sob worked its way from my throat. I crumbled to my knees, my eyes not slipping from my hands—my bloody hands.

Nel moved closer and placed a soft paw on my thigh.

"Helga," she said it softly. Like she feared that being too loud would set me off. Make me shatter like the glass around me. "Helga, we have to go. The police—they'll be here soon."

I wanted so badly to tell her I didn't care. That for once, being a Guardian wasn't on my mind. I didn't want any of this—I didn't want to be a superhero. I'd just murdered someone in cold blood. Even if it was a Mutant, it still had a beating heart and flesh, just like me.

But I knew Nel was looking out for me—for us.

I could hear distant sirens ringing through the air.

I turned to Nel, who gave me a reassuring nod. I pushed back my shoulders and nodded back to her.

It was time for Blue Jay to disappear.

Buildings were lit in a blood–red haze.

Lights flickered from police cars and painted the street in copper shades. It twisted and pulled shadows back until they had covered apartment windows like dark cloaks. Crowds were forced behind barriers, but reporters had their arms stretched out towards the cops with microphones and cameras. From every direction, there were questions. Where was that girl? The one calling herself Blue Jay. Where had she gone? Why wasn't she answering any questions? Was she with the police? If not, did that make her an enemy to the people?

Sadly, I smiled.

How I wished to be them, oblivious. Demanding answers. What was more blissful, then ignorance?

"Helga," Nel's voice crept from behind me. My smile vanished, and the weight suddenly turned cold in my chest. "I . . . I think we should get going. It'd be wise if we went home. Your leg should heal soon enough after it's been washed."

Nel was right, I knew that. But I didn't tell her that, or anything.

The pain had dulled some time ago. It wasn't surprising anymore; becoming Blue Jay meant that things never lasted for long. I couldn't feel a thing anymore. Or maybe, I had just chosen not to. There was a part in my brain that was telling me that I was still torn up pretty badly. But it was like I was too tired and exhausted to even experience the pain anymore. Like the parts of me that were supposed to carry those signals to my brain had retired for the night.

So, I was stuck feeling nothing.

But Nel was right; even if I couldn't feel it, I knew I had to get everything taken care of. But for whatever reason, I couldn't force myself to go back.

It was funny; a few hours ago, I would have given anything to get back, but now, I couldn't bring myself to even move.

I suppose it was because I was too exhausted to pretend anymore. That place was full of people who didn't care for my existence. It wasn't warm and it wasn't soft. It was cold, hard and daunting. It usually didn't bother me—I had gotten used to that long ago—but right now, warm and soft was exactly what I needed, but exactly what I wouldn't be getting. I would instead be stuck in another yelling match with Bob over whatever it was I had managed to do this time. I had a house, but never a home. There was always something I had done wrong. And if there wasn't, then he ignored me entirely. I knew that it was actually a good thing that no one would be asking me questions, but right now, that wasn't what I wanted.

The wind moved through my hair and fanned out my curls to the side. I leaned back and pulled a leg to my chest. My injured leg dangled over the side of the building. Everyone was so occupied with their questions and harassing the cops, that no one spotted the answer to all of their questions sitting above them. No one saw the hero watching them from the top of the building.

"I guess this is it," I mumbled.

Nel appeared by my side. "Excuse me?"

I smiled.

"This is it," I announced in a voice that felt so strained, it was like someone was choking me. "This is my life now, huh?"

She didn't respond at first.

Instead, she watched the crowd harassing the police, and I followed her movements. I found myself watching a girl with blonde hair, tied back in pigtails. She was wearing her pyjamas and had a phone in her hand, eyes zipping between each adult. I felt something press deep into my chest as I watched her. I wondered if I would be like her had I not accepted this life. Would I be down there, phone in hand, and demanding answers? Or would I shrug with a roll of my eyes, turning my headphones up, and decide it wasn't my problem? What had I given up, taking that pin? Would I ever be able to get it back?

"I'm sorry."

I didn't move. I knew her apology was sincere—she was sorry. She didn't do what she did because she liked it; she was as desperate as I had become. And I wanted to forgive her. Like Nel had said, she didn't choose Guardians, she could only sense them. And given that there was only so much time, she didn't have the luxury or resources to ease her chosen into this world, she had to work with what she had, which wasn't a lot.

But at the same time, I blamed her.

It wasn't fair, I knew that. Nel was desperate. She wanted to save the world, like I did, perhaps even moreso. She was doing everything within her power to make sure everyone stayed safe. But I had really scared myself today. I had become a different person—no longer was I the hero, or the saviour. I hadn't even been Helga, who everyone looked down on and didn't expect much from. I wasn't a warrior protecting her city from danger. I wasn't the hero who fought for love and justice. Instead, I had fought with vengeance. Fear had overridden my senses until all that was left was instinct. It was like something in me had popped, and all the anger and rage I had been storing up exploded until I lost control.

I had seen myself shattered, in a way that had never happened before. Everything had been pumping. I hadn't been the city's superhero; in that moment, I had turned into something different. Something that scared me. I blamed Nel for it. She had been the one to contact me. Had it not been for her, never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I was capable of . . .

My hands twitched.

I could still feel it—everything.

I reached for Nel. She flinched. I wasn't sure why, whether it was the sudden movement after the long pause between us, or if it was me she was afraid of, but before she could help it, her body had seized. I ignored how that made me feel and laid my palm flat against her head. She looked up, startled.

I scratched between her ears.

She hesitated.

"Helga, about your powers—"

"I'm on my own now," I said, and tore my gaze away from hers.

My eyes found themselves back on that girl again. She had shoved her phone into her back pocket and was pulling her shirt tighter to her body. Her gaze flickered around and when her lip caught between her teeth, I knew she was contemplating going home. To her warm bed, with loving parents, possibly siblings, and a hot meal.

The feelings in my chest soured. Because suddenly, I looked at her and saw everything I had taken for granted. I may not have had her home, but I had those worries. Homework, getting a good night's sleep, arriving to class on time. Those seemed so small now and more than anything, I wanted them back.

I was shaking, I realised. Hard. My entire frame vibrated so hard that my teeth clattered. And when my chest tightened, I let loose a sigh—I knew what that meant.

"Um, Nel?" I cleared my throat and pretended my voice hadn't wavered. Keeping my eyes down, I feigned fascination with the crowd. "Could . . . could I have a moment alone, please? Y'know, to think and stuff. Got a lot on my mind."

My laugh wasn't fooling anyone.

Nel knew what it was that I was asking.

"O–Of course, Helga."

She hesitated then climbed to her feet. Her eyes were on me for a second too long before she forced herself to move to the other end of the building. She readied herself for the leap down the fire escape before turning back to me. I wasn't looking at her, but I could feel the worry in her gaze.

"Are you sure you want to be alone?"

Clenching my teeth, I forced a smile at her. But I didn't speak, I didn't trust myself to.

So, I nodded.

With another concerned look, she disappeared into the night.

And I was left alone.

The smile slipped from my face, and I turned back to the crowd. The siren lights swirled around them, lighting up their faces then leaving them in darkness again, over and over. I spotted another girl, cuddled up to a boy much taller than her. She had large and frightened eyes and when I looked at her, I suddenly remembered Phoebe.

'In the meantime, Blue Jay is our only defence.'

The pain moved in me like a knife, and I had to clamp a hand over my mouth. I tore my gaze away from the crowd like they had hit me, turning to the shadows, and felt something sting my vision.

'It's a scary thought, but at the same time, it isn't totally.'

That girl believed in me, so much. She had hope in me, despite knowing nothing about me. It was profound and so unlike Phoebe; she wasn't the type to throw out explanations and scientific equations for faith in the unknown. That just wasn't her. So, what was prompting her to do exactly that now? And how would she react if she found out I wasn't who she thought I was?

I wasn't a hero.

I had fooled myself into believing that maybe I could be, but I wasn't. Not if I was being honest with myself. Heroes didn't do that—act in anger, punish with violence. They saved people, not for any reward, but because it was the right thing to do. They didn't. . .

My gaze went back to my hand.

I rose it to my face. There was still blood caked beneath the nails. Tiger stripes along the back, no longer green, but a flaky brown now. The blood had dried, I couldn't bring myself to wipe it away. I felt like I was trying to hide something of myself. But now as I looked, I could see the trembles.

Balling my hand into a fist, I swung at the ground. Biting my lip, I held back a cry as a searing pain burst in my knuckles and lit stars in my eyes. For a moment, I sat there. Cradled my knuckles to my chest, held back whimpers.

A cold breeze swelled at the back of my neck, lifting my hair, and when I rose my eyes, I suddenly saw Nel, her words swirling in my mind.

'For now, you, Helga, are the only Guardian.'

Everything she had ever said suddenly crashed into me. That she had found and chosen me, that there was an army that wanted to take over, that I was the only one who could defeat it, and then, a colossal wave hit me again and I was blinded with an unstoppable rage. Throwing back my head, I struck at the floor. The pain burnt but I paid it no mind. I ignored how my knuckles burned and the sharp crunch! they made when hitting the pavement. I threw another punch, then another, and another, and another . . .

Punch after punch, searing pain shot up to my shoulders. I lost track of how many times I hit the ground. I was disconnected from my body. Everything became a haze. All I knew was that a face stared up at me from the ground, beneath the blood. Salt stung my face. I didn't know what face it was, it kept changing. The Mutant, Nel, Bob . . .

It was like everything had collapsed onto me. I couldn't run, I couldn't hide, I couldn't lie. I wasn't a hero, Phoebe was wrong. They were wrong. Except him, Bob. He was right. I was a screw up, I was a loser, I was a fake, I made mistakes.

This was a mistake.

'You cannot help but trust her.'

I was a mistake.

'Because she makes you feel safe.'

No. No. She was wrong.

'I am Blue Jay: Defender of Justice and Champion of Hillwood!'

Lies. I had been lying.

I didn't defend justice. I was never a champion of anything. I knew that; I knew that now. Heroes did what they did because they were good. They were on the side of righteousness. They had strong hearts, stronger morals. But that wasn't me. I wasn't the type to be chosen for stuff like that. I was what righteousness spat out like poison. I wasn't doing this because it was the right thing to do. I was doing this because I was scared.

I had accepted the role because I knew that I would get caught in the crossfire if I didn't. And I had been curious to know what it was that Nel had seen in me. I had always been the last choice my entire life. Picked last, forgotten about, looked at with disdain. I had been treated as the villain, but now, someone had actually looked at me and seen a hero. Had picked me first. I needed to know why, what was it she saw when she looked at me.

I wish she had left me wondering.

I didn't stop until my knuckles were torn and bloody. The sharp stinging was pushed to the darkest depths of my mind. My mission to keep the tears from running had failed. I tried to ignore it. Maybe, I reasoned, it would help wash away the blood.

Broken sobs wracked through my chest as tears streamed down my face. The walls that I had built all these years were torn away from me. Now, I was struggling to stand. I lowered my face until my forehead was pressed to the ground. I wasn't a hero; I was a failure. I did this because I needed to know that I was more than Bob's words. More than his failure daughter. Now, I was trembling. Covered my head with my arms. But I couldn't stop trembling. Even as I pressed my face further into the ground, hoping to disappear. I trembled.

I couldn't stop.

"Why?" I whispered.

My powers . . . I thought by now they would . . .

"—and, with enough practise and training, you should be able to hold up multiple shields at a time. Hopefully."

I gawked at the black cat perched on top of my bed. "Rewry?"

Nel rolled her eyes, unimpressed.

"Do try to restrain yourself from speaking with your mouthful, Helga." She wrinkled her nose as she took in the toothbrush sticking out of my mouth and the foam dripping from my chin. "You are not five years old."

I rolled my eyes and turned back to face my mirror. The cut on my lip had long since healed and my cheeks were back to looking normal again. Most of the bruises were on their way to completely healing. Except, I remembered with a frown, the lump on the back of my head. Nel said that would take a day or two, given the size, but it should be gone relatively soon. Her nonchalance had, of course, irked me to no end. She didn't have to go around with a lump the size of a fist on the back of her head.

Leaning over the basin, I spat out the toothpaste and rinsed my mouth out with water. After wiping my face with a pink towel, I strolled into my room, whistling a random tune, and headed for my desk.

I sat myself down in my chair but could feel Nel's curious stare and sighed.

"What?" I asked her flatly, raising my eyes to the ceiling.

"I must confess, Helga," Nel replied, oblivious to my growing irritation. What? This cat could bloody well chat your ear off! "I've only heard of Guardians with powers such as yours. I've never been there to witness them. Truthfully, I am a little excited to begin your training."

I looked over my shoulder. "Seriously?"

Nel nodded, looking actually giddy, which was an odd look for her honestly. "Oh, yes. I believe, if used wisely, your powers could aid you in becoming one very powerful Guardian. The possibilities could very well be endless."

Nel had my full attention.

I swivelled around in my chair to face her, unable to hide the grin spreading across my face. Crossing my arms over my chest and placing a foot on my thigh, I leaned back in my chair.

"Oh, really?"

Nel gave me a funny look but nodded. "Yes. In fact, why wait to discover what it is you can do? Try activating your powers—now."

Honey, at this point, with the pride in my chest, you'd have to physically restrain me from not activating my powers.

I leapt to my feet, eager to test out my new abilities. Of course, I thought, it couldn't hurt to prepare myself for the big show . . .

I began jumping on the balls of my feet and twisted my neck from side to side. Nel gave me an extremely worrying look and hesitated in even speaking. But she did, of course.

"Um, Helga, what on earth are you doing?"

I stopped bouncing on my feet and began rolling my shoulders while clearing my throat.

"Oh, just a few exercises," I told her.

Nel truly looked like she wanted to say something. But she instead ended up sighing and shutting her mouth.

Good choice.

A few more seconds passed before I deemed myself fit to test out my new superpowers. My heart raced with an untamed excitement. My mind was running a mile a minute, thinking of new and fun things I could do with my powers.

Clearing my throat again, I pushed back my shoulders and rose my chin. Sucking in a deep breath, I closed my eyes and mustered up whatever strength I could find that resembled what I'd felt not a few hours ago. Something tingly curled around in my stomach as the hairs on the back of my neck stood up straight. Sliding a foot forward, I thrusted both my arms in front of me . . .

And frowned.

Pulling my arms close to my chest, I shot them back out again, my palms stretched out towards Nel.

Nothing happened.

So, I tried again. Then a third time. And a fourth. By the fifth time that nothing happened, I began to worry. What the heck was going on?

Arms still outstretched, I shot Nel a questioning look. Nel herself seemed a little stuck for answers. She wore a hard look of concentration on her face as her eyes traced down my arms. I knew that, if she had hands, she'd be stroking her chin right now as if she had a beard.

That was a weird image.

Shaking my head and focusing on the current issue, I asked her, "Um, Nel, where the heck did my powers go?"

My response was literally a small 'hmm' noise.

"Don't tell me I lost them!" I responded, suddenly feeling very, very vulnerable. "I mean, that's not fair! I only had them for, what, ten minutes, tops? I almost died tonight, had it not been for them! How am I supposed to be a Guardian—"

"It's possible," Nel interrupted, looking up in thought. At some point during my ranting, I had begun pacing with my hands flying around me. I stopped in my tracks and spun around so quickly I almost fell. I was eager to hear any theories she had to offer. "Because your powers are mental based rather than physical, they'd be harder to control."

I didn't respond to that, but, looking up and understanding the confused look on my face, Nel continued. "Because your powers are reliant on your concentration, they'd be exceptionally more difficult to control rather than, say, something physical like enhanced speed."

I clucked my tongue; I wasn't entirely sure I liked that answer. "So, what you're saying is that my powers haven't disappeared, then?"

"What I'm saying is that, due to your powers being tied down to your mental capabilities, they're likely to be quite unstable at first. They may seem difficult but, once they come back, you should eventually learn to control them." She tried to sound sure of herself. But something in the way her gaze shifted told me she wasn't quite as sure as she'd have me believe. "In the meantime, we're going to have to work on your other abilities as a Guardian. With some training, of course."

I rolled my eyes. "Sounds fun."

Nel frowned.

"This is not supposed to be fun, Helga," she spat out the word like it were a disease. "This is serious. You're the only Guardian I've found and your powers are, for the moment, inactive. Though I'm quite sure they'll come back soon, we shouldn't just sit back with our feet up and wait for them to return. No, we should begin training. We simply do not have the time to relax with Acantha coming . . ."

As Nel continued to prattle on—stressing how important it was that I remained in 'tip top' shape and how we should began training as quickly as possible—I tuned her out. And that cat was such a chatterbox that she didn't even realise that I'd completely blocked out her nagging.

I held my hands to my face, palms up, and examined them. I'm not sure what I expected to happen, but disappointment hit me. Perhaps I had hoped for light to shine from my palms, as it had not two hours ago. That, like before, my powers would save me.

But nothing happened.

There was no light, no hairs standing on the back of my neck and no exhilarating feelings. Just my plain, calloused palms.

I swallowed. It was only thanks to luck that I had made it out tonight. The force behind that Mutant's punches could've killed me. And without my powers there to save me like they had tonight . . .

My hands fell to my side and blinked away the tears. Turned away from Nel, who was so wrapped up in her lecture that she didn't notice.

I would not cry—I refused.

There was no reason to act like a sissy. Nel said we would begin training tomorrow. I wasn't thrilled with the idea of basically running around in lingerie. But I trusted Nel. She knew what she was doing. She knew what she was talking about. This world may have been new to me, but it wasn't to her. Besides, even if my powers didn't return, I still had a lot more strength now. I was far from weak.

So, shaking the thoughts from my mind, I tried, for once, to focus on the brighter side. I was considerably more powerful when I was a Guardian. I could remember it now. Things were different when I was Blue Jay; strength pumped through my body. I felt so powerful and yet, I was light. When I moved, it was like I was floating, or like it was the world that moved around me, rather than the other way around.

Being Blue Jay—being a hero—it was exhilarating.

My mouth twitched into a small smile. Yeah, even without my forcefields, I was far from helpless. I was still a Guardian. I would still be able to take down Mutants.

Although, I'm sure that at some point, my powers would come back. They would spring back when I needed them, like they had tonight.

I nodded to myself—yes, they'd come back.

I knew it.

But they hadn't.

My eyes fluttered open to darkness. It folded around me, pressing into my body until I was choking. The sirens no longer flashed; the chatter had since stopped. Everyone had gone home. How long had I stayed out here? My eyes felt worn, throat dry. My body moved without permission; I uncurled myself to sit on my knees, wrapping my hands around my torso.

The shivers hadn't stopped.

My powers—they hadn't shown up today. They hadn't shown up when I needed them most. I'd almost died believing they would.

What superhero lost her powers?

Tears came fresh.

Was I even a superhero? Superheroes fought for justice, out of love and care. I'd fought with rage and anger. If that had been caught on camera, would Blue Jay still be hailed as a hero? Would Phoebe still believe in her?

Teeth grazed my lip.

But what about that man?

An image flashed through my mind; the man I had saved today. The one I had urged to get out of here. I blinked—yes, that was right. I had saved him. And many others. I'd saved many people tonight, that I couldn't deny.

That was my job now—as a superhero.

As Blue Jay.

The wind blew my hair as I stumbled to my feet. My fists were scrunched tightly so I wouldn't tremble. I crept to the edge of the building and peered down where so many confused individuals had stood before.

'I am Blue Jay: Defender of Justice and Champion of Hillwood!'

Those were the words I had spoken. I had declared myself the protector of this city, defender of justice. Whether I believed in it myself, that was what I had promised. I had to live up to it. I had to protect the people of this city.

The world.

It was true, this would be a regret I would carry with me. But that was not on them; my mistakes shouldn't become their burdens. I should have played safe, rather than jumping in without weighing the options, but I hadn't. I had danced with the devil and now I had to pay for it.

And now that I had done it, I would do everything within my power, with or without my superpowers, to save everyone.

But, a small voice spoke, who was going to save me?

Chapter Text

The television was the only light in the Pataki household that night.

Its wide screen hit the floors in pale strips and bounced from the furniture to cast shadows against the walls.

The shadows were thin and erratic and poked the ends of the room like knives. But there was one that stood out from the others. It stretched further and widened so it swept out like it were a cape. The shadow belonged to a girl cocooned in a blanket. It was the same shade as her childhood—girlish pink—but her stare had become vacant. Lost. Her eyes were dark but remained locked on the screen.

That girl was me.

It was well past my bedtime and yet here I remained. In front of the television with the volume low enough not to wake anyone, but loud enough that I could understand what was being said.

"We have now had two incidents in the past 48 hours—"

Nel lay asleep by my side, oblivious to what they were saying about me.

"Although there is no footage of the conflict, some eyewitnesses have claimed to have seen her limping from the area before the authorities could arrive," the news anchor reported. "Despite the considerable damage left to the roads and nearby buildings, the self-proclaimed Blue Jay managed to take down the creature and prevent any casualties. After authorities arrived at the scene, an anonymous source claimed to have seen her on top of the Suncrest Apartments—"

I could hear them, ghosts that wouldn't leave. Screams that rang in my ears. Red eyes piercing from the shadows. I shuddered. Squeezed my eyes shut. Clasped my ears to block out the shrieks.

"—although we have a name, authorities are unsure of much else. Just who is this woman, and where has she come from?"

Why was I watching this?

"—your thoughts on Blue Jay?"

Why was I willingly watching these images again and listening to people recount my nightmares? It only made the memories more painful.

"I, uh, don't really know much 'bout her," a younger face admitted. His eyes darted around awkwardly as he sheepishly tried his best to ignore the camera watching him. He looked around twenty and had orange strands that peaked out from his beanie. "But from what I've seen online, she seems pretty cool."

"I love Blue Jay!" It cut to another face—a girl who looked twelve with braided hair and bright eyes. "She has such awesome powers!"

"She really kicked that alien thing to hell and back," the next face was of a woman who nodded in approval. Her lilac hair was a stark contrast to her dark skin and black lipstick. "She's just like Sailor Moon!"

I sucked in a breath—they . . . believed in me. In Blue Jay. They'd only seen her fight once but somehow approved of the idea of her.

"No, I don't like her."

The smile—the one I hadn't been aware of—slowly fell.

"And why's that, sir?" The reporter asked.

"Because she's just a girl—a child," the man shrugged. He was an overweight man with a fringe of grey hair that circled his balding scalp. "Much too young to have any experience."

"You don't think she has the experience?"

"No, I don't."

"Could you tell us why, sir?"

"Well, as I've said before," he said and crossed his arms, "she's very young. It's just not possible for her to have any experience concerning something like—well—this."

A similarly aged woman with curly, wheat-coloured hair, nodded her head in agreement. "I most certainly don't trust her—" my nails sunk into my skin "—we know nothing about her or who or what she is . . . and the police have had years of training."

"Yes," the old man nodded and turned from her to the reporter. "I trust the police—they've been trained. They're professionals. This woman—this girl—she's just one person. And it's in my and my wife's opinion that, give or take a few weeks, she'll either be gone or useless. She's got a pretty face, but she's a poser—a pretty fake. Mark my words, she won't las—"

The bright image on the screen shrank into nothing and plunged the television into darkness. The remote fell from my hand and clattered to my feet. Shaky fingers ran through my hair, and I bit down hard on my lip. Pretty fake, pretty fake, nothing more than a po—

This wasn't helping. It wouldn't change anything. They were coming back. I didn't have my powers, but it was my job to protect everyone.

"—had it not been for her, a lot more people would have been rushed to the hospital—"

"—she seems pretty cool—"

"—just like Sailor Moon—"

"—love Blue Jay—"

"—You cannot help but trust her—"

Pretty fake. He'd called me a pretty fake. Was that what I was? A girl playing dress up, pretending to be a hero? I had no idea what I was even doing anymore.

I hissed curses and ducked my head between my knees. What was I doing? They may have placed their trust into Blue Jay, but who was I really?

A nobody.

Helga G. Pataki: the girl no one liked.

Would the same people believe in her if they knew it were me? Would they still feel so safe if they knew that Blue Jay was really an ugly little girl?

Something was crushing my ribs. It was getting hard to breathe. I wanted to scream—for help, for air—but that would wake everyone. I . . . couldn't get in their way—wouldn't. Not that they cared. They couldn't see it—no one could. They couldn't see the weight that slowly crushed me.

Pretty fake. Pretty fake. She's a pretty fake.

Something sharp dug into my scalp—I think it was my nails. God, I wanted them to be claws.

She'll either be gone or useless.

Gone.

Dead.

"—she saved us. She—Blue Jay protected us against that thing—whatever it was—"

My heart thundered.

"—I just . . . its admirable."

Arnold.

He believed in Blue Jay. He admired her. Had faith in her. Liked her. Blue Jay, not Helga. She was just his stalker. A freak. She bullied him relentlessly when they were children. She wasn't a hero; she was a villain.

But Blue Jay, she was a hero. She saved people. She didn't torment. It wasn't within her nature to make things worse. She was right, she was fair; she was good. She was who you received when you reached the ends of your prayers. She was strong. She fought evil. She was a lover like she was a fighter. She was a force to be reckoned with—a hero.

That's what he believed in, what they all did: a brave warrior. Flawless, a champion. Someone you could lay your hopes and dreams with and know that they would remain safe.

I lifted my head.

That was who I had to become.

Perfect. Faultless. I would become her, I just had to keep pushing myself.

The air dropped like it was becoming heavier. There was a pressure that forced its way into my chest. I didn't know how to handle it, how to get rid of it. I shook my head to clear myself from the smoke. I had to become a warrior, I had to become a soldier. I didn't know why I had been chosen as I was the last thing anyone would ever imagine when considering the term, "Hero." But something happened to me when I was her, a cosmic light flooded my senses until I no longer was Helga G. Pataki.

And I needed to take advantage of that: I was no longer Helga and thus, I was capable of being anything. Of being good. I just needed to do anything and everything so I would have nothing to do with Helga.

She wasn't a hero; she was a villain.

Forever.

I knew that; I could accept that, as I had when I was a child. And yet, my body responded to that before my mind could catch up and give its permission. Standing, I picked up my hoodie from the armchair and headed for the front door.

I needed a walk—

". . . did you see how she left? . . . she's just taking the cops' jobs . . ."

—an extremely long walk.

To say my night was restless would be an understatement.

I had only desired to walk for an hour, but it ended up lasting much longer. The sun was rising when I made it back. I only had two hours left to sleep. I was too tired to be angry and clumsily stumbled into bed.

I found Nel, already asleep.

She didn't wake as I shut the door. I was safe from hearing any lectures until I woke up.

But though I had two hours, I only slept for one. Too much time was spent moving around trying to find a position that was comfortable. But everything in me was in too much pain, too much discomfort, to make it work. I chose to stare at the roof until sleep overcame me. And by the time that I managed to close my eyes, Olga burst in, screeching that I'd be late if I didn't wake now.

So, I reluctantly got up and readied myself for school, ignoring when Olga asked when we'd gotten a cat.

Getting ready was difficult, although, truthfully, I was convinced I pulled it off decently (all things considered) until Nel had to open her big mouth—

"Helga, your socks do not go on your hands."

Bah. I knew that. But who was to say that originally wasn't my intention? Wearing one's socks on one's feet was awfully conventional. For all she knew, I was rebelling against the societal norms of sock–wearing by preferring my hands over my feet.

I wasn't, but that was beside the point.

Anyway, the morning moved eerily quickly. Things were happening and I wouldn't realise until they had passed. I didn't even notice that I was on the bus until—

"Hey, Arnold, you gonna be able to make it this afternoon?"

My eyes found their figures at the front of the bus. They were ahead of me—the boy with tall hair and the boy with blonde hair. But for once, my heart was too exhausted to jump when looking at him.

Arnold smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Gerald, I can't. I'm babysitting today."

"You serious, man?" Gerald groaned and threw his head back dramatically. "Again?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, Gerald."

The dark-skinned male sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is it that weird kid again?"

Arnold frowned at Gerald's dismissal but nonetheless nodded. "Yeah, it's Micah."

"Man," Gerald gave another pained groan and shut his eyes. "I don't know why you put up with that kid."

Irritation twisted Arnold's expression.

"Because, Gerald, Micah is a good kid," he replied, tone now sharp. "Just a little shy is all."

Gerald, observant as he was, finally noticed the tone. He opened his eyes and scanned Arnold's posture. Moments passed before he shrugged and turned away.

"Whatever you say, Arnold . . ."

Something burned in my system. It shifted, slid and climbed up my body. It became hard to breathe as it wrapped like a noose around my neck.

I glanced down and found veins bulging in my fists.

I frowned, was I angry? Why? Certainly not if Arnold was involved. Never could I remain angry at such a fair creature. He was too good . . . unless—

"Did you do Mrs. Garland's homework?" Arnold suddenly asked, looking ready to put the disagreement behind them.

"Homework?" Gerald's eyebrows drew together. "What homework?"

"The homework, Gerald," Arnold rolled his eyes. "The homework she gave us on Monday . . . that's due today."

"What?!" Gerald's eyes almost popped out of his skull. Several nearby students jumped and turned to give him annoyed glances. Arnold's cheeks turned red, and he squirmed from the attention. "Aww, man, you serious?"

Arnold nodded. "Yeah, man."

Gerald knocked his head against the window, shutting his eyes.

"Shit," he groaned. "This really bites."

Pete's eyes glared at the boys in the mirror and Arnold, seeing this, turned his gaze in any other direction—mine.

My breath hitched.

Emerald on blue. My heart was quaking. But not just in delight, there was something else—something heavier.

Arnold blinked, oblivious to my turmoil, then cracked a slow grin and waved, eyes twinkling.

And—like a brick—it hit me.

I turned to the window and watched the blurring landscapes. In the reflection, I saw Arnold frown his confusion before giving up and turning back to the moaning Gerald. Eyes downcast, I realised why I felt like this—why my stomach lurched when Arnold talked with Gerald, why when he smiled my heart would hurt or why I wanted to break down in tears when seeing how innocently his eyes sparkled—

I was jealous.

Of how simple everything was for Arnold. How simple it had always been. His world was perfect; he was surrounded by people that he loved. He was beautiful. He was noticed by everyone and got along with everyone. He didn't have to try to be likeable, he just was. He was a flashlight, filling rooms with his gentleness, his goodness. It wasn't a mystery as to why everyone loved him so much, how he managed to collect people's hearts without even trying.

He was kindness fashioned into a human.

It shone from his soul when he smiled. It lit everything up and made you feel like everything really would be okay. He smiled like he had never been hurt, like he had never experienced pain. I had always been envious of his ability to smile and make everything alright. I wanted to possess his endless optimism and altruism. As a child, I didn't just want to be with him, I wanted to be him. I wanted to be popular, I wanted to be loved, I wanted to be gentle, I wanted to be kind. I wanted to walk into a room with such a glow that everyone would be forced to stare in awe at it.

God, I wanted a reason to be optimistic.

I would sell my soul to walk in his shoes, even for a day. What would it be like to be like him? To be surrounded by so much love that you didn't know what to do about it. So many people loved Arnold, it felt like every day that passed, someone else had fallen in love with him. What was it like, to have so much kindness and compassion, that it shone from your eyes and drew people closer to you? To walk into a room and know that people will love you, so long as you remain true to yourself?

I had never experienced something like that—love. I had always been forgotten, passed over. While Arnold was destined for the sun, I was made for the shadows. I didn't belong in the light; I didn't belong with the good. I was numb, detached, and ignored. People didn't see me, they never had. There had been a time in grade school when I had tried getting them to notice me. But I wasn't likeable, I had just earned people's scorn and fear. I wasn't Arnold, I was Helga. I didn't attract, I repelled. I wasn't gentle or kind; I was disturbed and I was wicked. That was my nature and that was what people saw when they looked at me.

I was his opposite.

So, why me?

Why was I the one to defend the world? Nel said there would be more Guardians, but at this rate, it was still me verses thousands.

And after what happened yesterday . . .

Boots trampling. I run but keep coming back to the same spot. A light shines ahead—that must be the way out. I'm walking for that light when movements catch my eye. I spin but find nothing but black.

Time passes, I'm not sure how much—seconds or hours.

I then turn to find a hideously, distorted face, baring its teeth centimetres from my nose. I scream but my muscles have frozen—I'm stuck, staring up with wide eyes.

Its lips curl into a horrible smile. A clawed hand raises, ready to strike. The beast snarls and swings—

I jumped, eyes snapping open.

A gasp escaped.

I blinked. Looked around. The blurriness, it sunk back as my surroundings became crisp. Arnold had thrown his head back, laughing at something Gerald had said. The beating had hollowed out my throat. There was a new addition to the group now. Sat behind Gerald—

Lila.

Shutting my eyes, I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to calm my heart. Had that been just a dream?

A burning sensation branded my thigh. I bit my lip, holding back the screams. I could feel eyes turning in my direction, but I buried my senses beneath the throbbing. I tapped my forehead onto the window and prayed I hadn't reopened the wound. I shouldn't have—the stitches were decent—but still.

Nel would have my head on a platter—again. She was already mad that I'd taken a walk without informing her. Re-opening my wounds, therefore slowing the healing process, would only make today harder.

All I wanted was to sleep—I wanted to get off the bus and go back home. It wouldn't take long to sink into a deep sleep for the rest of the day. Hell, at this rate, I could sleep for the rest of the year.

My eyelids began slipping shut without permission, but I was too exhausted to fight against their weight. The world blurred as I drifted in and out of consciousness. Random images floated by aimlessly in endless pools of my thoughts.

The engine suddenly stopped.

Several footsteps patted down the aisle and I groaned. Time to get up. I counted to ten before rising to my feet, swinging my bag onto my shoulder, and stumbling down the aisle.

Eyelids fluttering, my focus began diminishing. Colours merged with one another as sounds fused into a singular drop. Darkness wrapped me in a blanket, submerging me in a current that pulled me further and further from consciousness—

Something rammed into my shoulder.

I was knocked backwards until my head had smacked into the ground. I groaned. But didn't open my eyes. I wanted to stay there. The darkness had become a sinking sensation, pulling on the sides of my face, and lulling me back into another sleep.

But then, there were several sharp intakes of gasps. They made everything freeze as a silence settled around me. I could feel the eyes turning in my direction.

And then, a familiar voice muttering a curse beneath his breath.

My eyes snapped open—there, standing in front of me, was Arnold.

He was looking down in absolute horror, like he had kicked a bulldog. Gerald was behind him, shifting uncomfortably and wringing his hands as he glanced at his friend. Lila watched with curious eyes, the only one lacking apprehension.

I frowned. Why were they apprehensive?

Arnold held up his hands like he was taming a bear. I chose not to let that hurt me.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry Helga, I—I didn't see you," he stammered. "Are you okay?"

He continued to ramble, explaining that he hadn't seen me just stop there in the middle of the aisle. And as he continued to babble, I sat up. Ignoring his offered hand, I climbed to my feet. My face was hot, I realised. I didn't know why as I didn't think that I was embarrassed. Brushing off the dust from my blazer, I muttered a quick, "Sorry."

Ducking my face, I didn't wait for a reply. There were gasps around me but I didn't bother to wait to find out what they meant. I just kept my eyes down as I stumbled off the bus. Stares bore into my back, but I continued for the school's entrance.

I stepped onto the grounds and could see everyone's smiles as they laughed with one another. It was warm and simple and normal. I didn't think I'd ever felt so lonely before.

I didn't have qualms with being alone; I liked walking down the hallways on my own. I liked eating my lunch on my own, reading on my own. I liked riding the bus on my own and I liked walking home alone. But as I passed students with oblivious smiles plastered on their faces, I realised that even though I liked being alone, I didn't enjoy it.

I really tried keeping my eyes open—honest.

But, as time ticked away, it became more and more difficult.

Because, despite the outside world moving like a blur, the afternoon crawled on all fours. I couldn't count how many times my eyes managed to slip shut. My head lolled from one side to the other. There were so many times I was called on to answer a question, but I got them all wrong—I didn't care.

The past forty–eight hours had turned my life into a hurricane. Something that kept spinning wildly until it was out of control. It was so chaotic and so dangerous and so unconventional, that it managed to carry away my cares and worries. Answering what a mitochondrion was seemed futile.

Not that Mr. Carlton cared. I kept falling asleep and his patience eventually snapped. He sent me out of the room and told me to wait for him. Which I did until ten minutes passed without him showing up.

My mind was still swimming with that departing dream. I knew that I couldn't keep this up.

So I turned on my heels and went to the bathroom. Mr. Carlton could blow a fuse when he realised that I left, but . . .

Who cared anyway?

The water ran cold and refreshing.

When it pooled from the faucet—the pipes emitting an unpleasant noise—I didn't hesitate to splash it across my face. I had hoped that it would wash away my weariness, but it did little to rouse me from my dream.

The bathrooms were quiet. There weren't any girls complaining about their teachers, nor flushing toilets, nor clacking shoes crossing the room.

It was just me.

Alone.

Nothing was different.

Turning off the tap, I rubbed my eyes.

And then looking up, my reflection caught my attention. It sent a wave of nausea curling in my stomach. The girl that stared back had such white skin; it was like the life had been pulled from her flesh. Her shoulders were slumped in a way that wasn't normal for a teenage girl. She was carrying too much weight; her spine was cracking from the white-knuckled grip that the world had on her. But it was her eyes that had my stomach in knots—they were so pale. Her eyes, they used to be an electric blue. The sharp kind, the kind that felt like knives running through your throat when they turned in your direction. Blue eyes were supposed to be beautiful, but I had never gotten that from mine. They were sharp and dangerous, but they weren't beautiful. Beauty comforted people, mine pushed them away. So I had never known how I felt about them until today where I was standing there. That electric blue had melted until it had turned into water that was without defences. It didn't have the walls that I preferred, or the sharpness that turned people away. It was raw and vulnerable and made me feel that anyone could read my thoughts if they looked hard enough.

What was I doing?

I wasn't made for this. Not like I had thought I had been. I had thought that maybe, this was my chance. That maybe I could be something more than what everyone saw me as. I thought maybe, since I had kept myself hidden for so long, that maybe I had become something without realising it. When you grew in the dark, things were sure to slip your notice. I thought maybe, stepping into the light, that I could be someone else.

But I wasn't.

I would always be her—a screwup.

She's just a pretty fake.

I bit back a sob. They were right.

I was just wearing a costume and playing pretend. I was new to this and you could tell. How long did that give me, before the inevitable happened? I was just one girl. There were smarter individuals out there. Better individuals. Good individuals. Why had I been chosen for this job?

For as long as I remembered, destiny had kept me shackled beneath her spell and held beneath her waters. I had been suspended, held captive. I couldn't speak, I couldn't move, I couldn't call out for help. I could only sit there, helpless. I would watch the skies from beneath the ripples, wanting so badly to glide and be free. Time passed, but I stayed the same.

When Nel had offered me the chance to become something greater, something that wasn't Helga, I tried abandoning destiny's ship, but turns out, I was still going down with it anyway.

I couldn't outrun myself.

I couldn't pretend to be something that I was not.

I was Helga.

And nothing was changing that.

Time was cement for Arnold that afternoon.

He drummed his fingers along his white mug. Familiar sounds of magic spells, weapons clashing, and kids yelling at each other, were coming from the living room.

When Arnold arrived, Micah was in one of his moods.

The one where he would barely acknowledge your existence as he buried himself in his fantasies. Some days, he was satisfied with his comics, but others, it meant TV.

Today was one of those other days.

Arnold had tried getting the boy to at least finish his homework first, but when he had left to make himself some tea, Micah had switched on the television. And, really, Arnold couldn't find it in himself to switch it off.

So, as the boy lay on his belly, eyes glued to the magic battles on the screen, Arnold sat at the dining table, looking out the window and sipping his tea.

Bored out of his mind.

Don't get him wrong, Arnold did not dislike Micah. He actually really liked the kid, despite Gerald dubbing him 'weird.' He wasn't weird, but he was different. And when Micah was in his moods where he was different, Arnold wasn't quite sure how to handle it. He became easily stressed out if he perceived that he was being forced into doing something. Arnold knew this wasn't because the kid was spoilt, but due to genuine distress at the idea of having to interact with unknown environments. He needed to have things thoroughly explained to him, which could last a while. Otherwise, he wanted to stay within the known. Which meant that Arnold was stuck inside whenever he was babysitting.

Stuck inside and with nothing to do. Not even homework to complete. All he could do was—well—sit there.

Arnold heaved a sighed. He'd ditched his friends for this.

For a good cause, of course. He was getting paid. But that didn't take away from the sting that, no doubt, his friends were having tonnes of fun without him.

He tapped the surface of his drink and watched as the ripples spread. Arnold heaved another sigh, blowing the hair from his face, as he remembered that not even an hour had passed. His gaze strayed to the window where he began to count the bricks of the house across the road. It was painful, but at least it gave him something to do.

—thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-se—hey, where's she going?

The door that he had unknowingly began watching, suddenly was thrown open and a familiar girl marched out. Arnold recognised her dirty blonde hair immediately; the way she swung her fists and her face had set itself into its signature frown.

He hadn't even noticed that he had begun staring at the Pataki house. Micah lived close to Arnold, so it was only required that he walk down the block.

Arnold narrowed his eyes when Helga held the door open and a small body followed her from the gap.

It was . . . was that a cat? He stopped. When had Helga gotten a cat? As far as he knew, she hated cats. And—he blinked—did it have purple eyes? Was that even possible?

He was brought from his internal questioning when Helga slammed the door shut in a huff. Arnold figured that she was, once again, in one of her moods, no doubt from another argument with her dad. But . . . something about her appearance was off. He didn't know what it was . . . he scanned her form—she was no longer wearing her school uniform. She had adorned baggy jeans and a worn hoodie. That wasn't out of the usual, Helga preferred to wear clothes that kept her from being noticed. His eyes jumped to her face and he then realised why she seemed so different—Helga wasn't angry. She was serious.

Her complexion was smooth and steady like glass. She had her jaw clenched, lips pressed into a line. She looked at her cat, who he swore he could see nodding, before she pulled her hoodie over her face. Her eyes moved upwards and for a moment, Arnold's heart jumped into his throat as he thought she caught him looking. Her eyes had always had that electric look, the type that either zapped you in their zest, or pulled you along for the ride. But then, Helga dropped her gaze, her stare melting into a ghostly wisp, before she and the cat dashed down the street, rounding the corner out of his sight.

He sighed in slight relief. She hadn't noticed his staring. Her eyes had barely seemed to even register that there was a window across from her, let alone that that someone could be watching her from it. She seemed much too tired for the thought to even occur to her.

But then, he frowned. Why had she seemed so tired?

Not that it was his business, but something about Helga seemed . . . off. Different. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it seemed like Helga from last week and Helga today were two totally different people. When Arnold had knocked her over today, he had expected her to jump up with smoke pouring from her ears. He expected for her face to be red, for her to threaten to hit him, maybe even spit on him.

But she hadn't.

Instead, she had looked at him—somehow, it seeming like she wasn't actually seeing him—and apologised. Her, Helga Pataki, had apologised to him.

Even Gerald had thought it strange. In fact, his best friend was convinced that that wasn't even Helga, but actually, an alien in disguise who had disposed of the real Helga Pataki but hadn't been smart enough to study up on her character.

'Helga Pataki—that girl never apologises,' Gerald had stated as he crammed chips into his mouth. 'She probably doesn't even know what an apology is! It's totally an alien, I tell you! An alien that wants to eat our brains then take us over! And it's starting by disguising itself as Pataki, although why they would wanna pretend to be her, I do not understand.'

Arnold frowned, thinking on it.

He hadn't liked how Gerald had talked about her. He knew Helga could be rough, but she wasn't bad. And even if she were, she had never been as bad as Gerald often described her. How their grade would describe her. He knew that technically, Helga had never been his friend, but he remembered those times from their childhood, when she would reveal to him that side to her. The side that wasn't what everyone thought of her, what she thought of herself. The side that dreamed, the side that was gentle. The side of her that loved, loved so ferociously that she would race to the ends of the earth to protect. The side of her that cared so much that she had to pretend that she didn't and had learned to keep her cards tight to her chest.

That side. The side that Arnold—truthfully—still thought about.

He wanted to brush off Gerald's theories, but given what had transpired, Arnold was embarrassed to admit that perhaps there was some truth to his best friend's words. Because apparently, monsters and girls with superpowers existed. Were aliens even that far–fetched anymore?

Arnold couldn't get that look out from his head.

The one that she had given him on the bus. It had been so chilling. For as long as he had known Helga, she always had this intensity. It burned from her gaze like a force. She had begun dressing as she did, so she could sink back into the crowd. But Helga Pataki had always had an edge to her and regardless of what she wore, Arnold thought she would always stand out from the crowd. She couldn't help herself. And that was something he had always admired about her.

That's why the look that she had given him, it scared him. Her gaze lacked its usual intensity. It no longer was burning with her passion, that inner light that she had kept trapped behind glass. When her eyes had moved to his, it felt like her mind was elsewhere and she wasn't really seeing him, even as she apologised.

It had made him curious and throughout the day, he couldn't stop peeking in her direction. He wasn't sure what he was specifically looking for, other than some understanding. Something that maybe he would find that would make everything click. But she had remained like that for the remainder of the day—lifeless. Empty. She had gotten in trouble for wearing pants rather than the mandatory skirt, but even that didn't seem to get a reaction out of her. She had that blank look as she had simply muttered, "Must've forgot."

Even Lila had seemed curious about it. She had shot him a look from where they were all sat at the back of the class.

Come to think of it, why had she worn pants today? Helga didn't much care for rules, but she also didn't like calling attention to herself. Surely, she'd know that if she disobeyed the rules like that, then attention was exactly what she would receive.

Arnold watched that corner. She had long disappeared, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from it. He almost wanted to follow her so he could know why she was behaving so strange. He had watched Lila approach her yesterday, even chasing after her when Helga had tried walking away. He envied her for that. There had been multiple times that Arnold had wanted to approach her, but he didn't. He remained behind, because as curious as he had become about her, he also knew that she was adamant about her boundaries. That she had created a small space for herself, and she didn't want people walking into it. She may have been quiet this morning, but that didn't mean she wouldn't break that silence to yell at him if he crossed those boundaries. Although, he pondered whether that would be worth it, because at least she would be feeling something rather than nothing.

He wanted to follow her, but he didn't. Because they weren't friends—nor had they ever been. Arnold liked Helga and didn't mind the thought of pursuing a friendship with her, but given what had happened years ago, he doubted she would ever be interested in starting anything with him. So, as his not–friend, it really wasn't his business what Helga did. He didn't—and shouldn't—care.

So why did he?

A familiar tune suddenly blasted from his phone. Arnold almost knocked over his drink in surprise. Gritting his teeth, he dug his phone out of his pocket and rolled his eyes upon seeing his best friend's face on the screen.

He accepted the call.

"Gerald," Arnold bit out in a scolding manner, "You nearly made me spil—"

"Arnold, you gotta get down here, man!"

"Um," he frowned, anger momentarily subsided. "Why?"

"Cause we're having so much fun—but we're all missin' ya, Arnold!"

Arnold rolled his eyes. "Gerald, you know I can't make it. I told you I'm babysitting today."

There was shuffling. Then muffled voice, discussing something Arnold couldn't identify. Rolling his eyes, Arnold waited for his friend's reply. Seconds later, Gerald spoke again, "Just bring 'im here!"

Arnold's brows shot up into his hair. "What?"

"Yeah, just bring the kid with you!" Gerald chuckled. Arnold could picture him waving his hand dismissively in the air. "We can all watch him—maybe he could even join!"

"Gerald—"

"Okay, you're right," he admitted quickly, sighing in defeat. "The kid can't join in, but he can watch! C'mon, Arnold, just bring him here, bat with us for a few then take him home! He'll be so bushed, he'll just go straight to sleep—c'mon, it'll be the easiest green you've earnt!"

Truth be told, Arnold was tempted by Gerald's offer. He liked Micah, but Arnold wasn't exactly having the time of his life. And it wasn't like watching so much TV was healthy for kids anyway—bringing him outside could be beneficial to him.

Maybe if . . . no—

He shook his head. He wasn't being paid to play with his friends, he was being paid to take care of Micah.

Right.

No matter how tempting Gerald's offer was, nor how badly he ached to join his friends in a round of baseball, nor how painfully boring the next few hours were sure to be, running away from his responsibilities was not what Mrs. Brunty was paying him for.

And, with that thought, Arnold opened his mouth to decline the offer—

"Erm, sure, Gerald, we'll be there in, say, fifteen?"

Arnold's eyes almost popped out of his skull. What? He hadn't meant to say that!

"Awesome, man!" Gerald said and Arnold could hear the smile in his voice. "See you then!"

Arnold opened his mouth, ready to take back what he'd said and explain that he couldn't take advantage of Micah and his grandmother, when, before even a word had gotten past, Gerald had already hung up.

Mouth frozen open, Arnold stared at the phone in his hand and replayed what had just happened—whatever had just happened.

Gerald probably knew that Arnold was about to take it back, hence why he was so quick to hang up. Arnold's grip tightened—that Gerald . . .

"Who was that?"

Arnold gave a start and spun around to find Micah, looking up at him.

He was a small kid, his jeans rolled past his ankles until they were pressed beneath his feet. He had darker skin, golden brown, and curly hair that stuck up in all directions.

Arnold shifted, suddenly feeling guilty.

"Uhh, well—"

He really felt bad. He didn't need Micah looking at him so accusingly—

Wait a minute.

Micah was six—he couldn't spell 'accusingly', let alone look at him as such.

Shaking his head, Arnold pushed away the guilt. "Do you wanna go to Tina Park, Micah?"

Tilting his head, Micah gave him a wary look. Honestly, had it been directed at someone other than him, Arnold would be on the floor laughing, as such a look from a kid was ridiculous.

"Why?"

Arnold gulped and fidgeted with the edges of his shirt. Moisture slid down his face as he wildly looked around the room. Was that pounding his heartbeat?

"Um, no reason, I just thought that it'd be nice to get some fresh air is all. It's kinda stuffy in here, don't you think?"

Micah's large eyes made Arnold feel like he'd committed a murder. Pulse thriving in his temples, the silence stretched on until Arnold heaved a sigh, shoulders slumping forward.

"And," his voice was thick with defeat, "We can grab some ice cream on the way."

Micah threw his hands in the air and let out a massive, "Yes!" He spun on his heel and ran to grab his jacket.

As his footsteps faded, Arnold released a large breath. Thank God for kids' short attention spans.

Still, he couldn't shake away his guilt. Arnold knew that what he planned to do wasn't awful. But he kept imagining Micah's grandmother, having trusted him not to let Micah out until his homework had been completed. His attention had been askew, lately. Although Arnold wasn't entirely sure why.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Arnold let loose a sigh. Oh, well, there wasn't much he could do now. Gerald was expecting him, and Micah was excited for that ice-cream. They would just have to leave the match early so Micah could finish his homework before they got back.

Shrugging, Arnold reached for the jacket hanging on his chair and shoved it on. Perhaps it was just his annoying conscience nagging him—as usual. He swore, it was because of his conscience that he never got to have the fun that his friends did. Maybe now was just simply the time to turn it off. After all, how many times had Gerald specifically gone against his and ended up smiling in the end? Realistically, nothing bad was gonna happen.

Yeah, he thought with a nod, the chances of something unpleasant happening were low, so logically Arnold had nothing to worry about.

Yeah, that was right. Nothing to worry about.

Except, that is, Micah himself.

It had all started out simple. Arnold knew that he needed to get to Salsuen's Ice Cream Parlour since it had Micah's favourite flavour. He had it all planned out; they would get to the parlour, pick up the ice cream, and then be on their way to the guys. It only should have taken, at the most, twenty minutes.

But when Micah and Arnold had entered the Parlour, they had learned that Micah's favourite flavour—pistachio—was out.

Cue the wailing.

You see, Micah didn't like being lied to. Or led to believe something that wouldn't happen. And though Arnold hadn't technically lied—to him, anyway—he still had promised something that Micah had been looking forward to. And not getting that, it could be little overwhelming for Micah.

Trust issues, his grandmother had told him. Micah had issues with being let down and they could spring up very randomly.

Arnold tried making it right by bargaining with him. He promised him a double scoop of any other flavour, including sprinkles, but Micah was set on getting his flavour.

So, more than a little humiliated under the many, many disapproving glances thrown his way, Arnold agreed to search for Micah's flavour at the Sundae Saloon. Thankfully, the line at Sundae's hadn't been long like Salusen's and they did happen to have the flavour. But the damage was already done; Arnold was well over twenty minutes late as the Saloon was on the other side of town, while Slausen's had been a five-minute walk.

By the end of it all, Arnold wanted to repeatedly bash his head against a wall.

And to think that it had all been for a single scoop of pistachio flavoured ice cream.

Not an odd flavour on its own, but certainly not something Arnold would expect a kid to like. Maybe Gerald was onto something about Micah being a little weird . . .

Speaking of whom had been more than a little annoyed that Arnold was so late.

"You said—" Gerald tapped his watch with an impatience Arnold had only seen in movies, when the parent caught their teenaged son arriving hours past dark. "—fifteen minutes. Fifteen, Arnold! And what is it now? It's—" he looked again "—4:48! An hour later then what you promised! Y'know, when you said you'd only be fifteen minutes!"

Gerald had always been the more dramatic of the two.

"Sorry, Gerald," Arnold apologised as he bent to his knee so Micah could hop off his back. When his feet were safely planted, Arnold stood and sheepishly faced his friend. "I guess I just lost track of time—y'see we were trying to find this ice cream—"

"Yeah, yeah," Gerald waved his hand and rolled his eyes. Whipping out a mitt from seemingly thin air, he grabbed Arnold's hand and slapped it into his palm. "You're fielding on Horowitz's team."

Arnold's face fell. "Eugene? C'mon, man, you serious?"

Arnold considered Eugene his friend, however, that didn't make him blind to the redhead's faults. His most infamous being his knack for attracting the worst luck. That paired with his natural clumsiness had earned him a nickname amongst the guys—Hazard-Prone Horowitz.

Which was slightly cruel, but ultimately fair.

Everyone knew that playing on Eugene's team was already a disadvantage.

Gerald shrugged and put his hands on his hips.

"Sorry, man," he insincerely apologised, "but you were late—we already decided on teams."

Arnold growled. This was Gerald's way of getting even with him.

Still, he was glad he got to play at all today. An hour ago, he'd been bored out of his mind counting bricks.

So, slipping on the mitt, Arnold surrendered with a nod and a truce-worthy grin. "Alright, let's play then."

A grin spread across Gerald's face, and he accepted Arnold's truce. "Cool, man."

The game ended up an exuberant experience.

Despite being on Eugene's team, Arnold enjoyed it. Eugene managed to find something every once and a while to trip over. But Arnold honestly didn't care. He wasn't even sure if they were winning or not. Because he hadn't come here to win, he had wanted to just hang out and have fun with his friends.

His eyes followed as the ball shot over his head in an impressive arc. Arnold heard people shouting his name and he obeyed, spinning on his heel to sprint in the ball's direction.

It was ironic, he would later and cruelly think, how sharp his senses had been. Or, at least, how sharp his senses had felt at the time. Even though he and his friends had been enjoying the game, Micah hadn't. The kid had grown bored almost immediately and, when Arnold's back had turned, he left.

Unaware of the eyes watching him.

Sweat rolled down my neck in thick beads.

The disk whizzed in my direction, and I ducked, avoiding the blades. Short, ragged breaths came from my mouth. My heart bashed my ears. I heard its collusion with the wall but didn't turn my eyes away from the figure in front of me. Its arm was still outstretched in my direction.

Wiping the moisture away from my face, I sucked in a breath, then bolted. The sounds of my heels echoed from the walls. The sensation had my calves burning. Sprinting for the glowing figure, I curled my hand into a fist and swung. Holding a forearm to its face, it blocked my attack. I swung again, but it dodged to the side. It slipped behind me and before I could turn, something smacked into the back of my scalp. The hit knocked me until the floor had slammed into my face.

Burning assaulted my body. My stomach shot into my throat and pushed forward until it was pressed into the tiles. The floor was ice cold, but heat spun between my eyes. Spinning sensations pressed into my shoulder blades. Tears popped into my eyes. I rolled to my side to see a foot plummeting to my face—

SMACK!

Fire scorched my nose and my head snapped back. White fairies spun across my eyelids. They bashed my vision until it was spinning and shaking. The stomach in my throat, it had swung around until I was suffocating. I tried sucking in some breath, but it still struggled to make it through. I didn't want to, but I knew that I was reaching my limits.

I rose my hands—shaking—then made a familiar T shape.

I felt rotten as I did.

There was a sigh that came from the speakers, but as requested, the figure disappeared.

Silence filled the room. I could feel my heart, wiggling in my ears, as I lay there—exhausted. I wasn't even sure if it was because I had taken that beating. Or, if it was the mantel, now suddenly feeling like a burden. The words that I had wanted to say—to shout—as I moved through my day, but I had kept locked inside. I was carrying so much but I couldn't release. Anything. I had to remain silent, like I always did. Keep it all under control, pretend that I wasn't feeling what I was feeling. That I couldn't feel. I didn't want to feel, I was so tired of feeling. I should be better than feeling, I was Blue Jay. I had to protect everyone, I had to better myself. I knew this, I had accepted this. I needed to fight against the currents. But I could feel the words—my words—moving along in my throat. They were heavy like bricks and demanding. They wanted to be released, they wanted to soar and be free. But I still had my hand on the cage, keeping it locked tight. The only sounds became my laboured breaths and then, the room became liquid.

I wanted to cry, I realised. God, I wanted to cry—I had wanted to cry for a long time. But I couldn't. I never could. Because if I did, then I would be accepting it—the truth.

So I lay there, knowing that I had to get up.

Knowing but not wanting to.

Nel didn't say anything. I was thankful for it. I needed time, I needed to get a grip and then push on, like I always did.

I needed to be a Pataki—hard. Tough. Stubborn. I needed to be Helga—wild. Violent. A monster. And I needed to take all of that and mould it until I was something different, something useful. A soldier. I no longer wanted to feel like this: hopeless, scared, alone. I wanted to feel the call and accept it without a thought. I no longer wanted to feel my heart racing so hard that I thought I was going to puke. I no longer wanted to flinch whenever I heard a sound without seeing it first or jump when I thought someone was creeping up on me. I no longer wanted to go to bed, dreaming of my death. I wanted to become glass, I wanted to become steel, and be so tough and strong that nothing could tear me down.

So tough and strong that things would stop . . . hurting.

Until nothing could hurt.

Screams then pierced the air.

Hairs stood from the back of my neck. Adrenaline surged until my hands shook. My stomach twisted until it had become knots. Burning blasted in my ears. I wanted to laugh.

Please not again.

I rolled over until I was sitting up. Palms pressed to the ground. Bile burning my throat. I didn't feel anything. Or say anything. The words died in my throat. My thoughts had turned into water. I was exhausted because I knew what this meant. What I had to do.

"I am Blue Jay, Defender of Justice and Champion of Hillwood!"

. . . my fingers curled into a fist.

"Helga?"

I rose to my feet.

I didn't glance at Nel. But I could feel her stare pushing into my back. I almost toppled over from its weight. I felt disgusting, imagining all the things she must think of me. Imagining how disappointed she felt when she looked at me.

I was a failure.

"Come on, Nel," I murmured.

Let's get this over with.

We were led to a warehouse—an abandoned warehouse.

Well, almost.

There was one being in there—the reason why we were here.

The corrugated iron roof hung at least twenty–five feet above us. There were pops of colours along the crumbling walls, simple designs in spray paint. Sunlight poured in through the broken windows, rolling along the dirty ground and dust swirled in the beams of light.

The Mutant was easy to spot.

It stood on the other end, head whipping around in different directions like it was searching for something. I sunk to pull out my knife and quickly scanned its form.

It was tall and gangly. Spine curved like it were a giant question mark. Its arms were spread and, I could see, knife-like nails protruded from its thin fingers. An untameable mane cascaded down its back like molten epidote and resembled a green bird's nest.

I wrinkled my nose—whatever. I wasn't about to let more time pass.

I swung my knife in its direction.

It shot across the warehouse and as it did, light bounced from the blade. It sent a dazzling affect onto the ground. But before it could make its mark, the Mutant turned and swung out its arm. Its nails clanged against the metal and the knife fell to its feet.

My jaw dropped.

Eyes swivelled in my direction. It then made a face, lips stretching into a hideous grin, as its purple tongue swiped out to lick its lips.

I balked. Ew, what the hell?

Throwing back its head, it let out a loud cackle.

"Oh!" It cried in a raspy voice reached its ears. "What an outrageously sublime delight to be alive!"

It then turned into a green blur as it bounded forward and stopped inches from my face. Hot air lashed across my face from its movement. My legs twitched with the impulse to run, but they no longer felt like they were a part of me.

My jaw tightened as my vision became watery and I hoped that it didn't show. The Mutant giggled and its hot breath washed over me. The hairs on my neck were rigid.

It trailed its spidery fingers along my jaw and held my chin to tilt my head upward. I wanted to move—I tried to move—but my muscles wouldn't obey.

"Such soft skin . . ." It gave another giggle as its fingers slipped down to my neck. "Master would surely love it."

'. . . they said you'd be difficult.'

They.

Master.

A shiver shot down my spine.

It must've seen the fear because it let out another girlish snicker.

"Oh," it chortled. "I cannot wait to kill you!"

Iciness gripped my neck and squeezed with all its might. I tried breathing but air refused to fill my lungs. Panic bubbled in my chest. The walls were closing in. Darkness was overwhelming. My feet dangled as I stared into the red eyes. Its maniacal grin—

I ran.

Or tried to.

I knew it was useless; the Mutant clearly exhibited incredible speed and, that aside, my knees were far too weak to get me anywhere. But I couldn't stop myself. My muscles were moving on their own and I found myself running for the open door—

The Mutant appeared in front of me.

Sharp pain cut across my nose when its fist slammed into my face. Spots popped into my vision as my head reeled back. Dampness dripped from my nose. Bringing my head down, I raised my hands into a familiar stance—

A crushing blow sent me flying.

The collusion echoed from every corner of the warehouse. It burned my ears. Turned everything onto its side until I was pressed back into the ground. The world had begun swimming. I tried climbing back to my feet, but my surroundings were pushing back on me. Flattening me against the wall. Trembles ran down my spine. Salt burned my eyes. I couldn't move.

It took slow and deliberate steps towards me.

"That was so cool!" it cowed, examining my heap of limbs. "I wonder what else I can do!"

Then, it felt like my scalp had been set on fire. Thousands of needles being jabbed into the back of my head. The Mutant had grabbed a fistful of my head, dragging me until I was on my knees. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't find my voice.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I bit down on my tongue.

"Aw, don't get boring!" it gave me another shake. Blood soaked my tongue. "C'mon, I don't wanna do away with you right away! Lemme have some fun first! I know you've already given master a shock, but—"

I rammed my fist into its foot. I had my eyes shut as I did this, but I could hear the sickening crunch! that made my stomach turn.

There was a loud, cracked cry of pain. The stinging in my scalp disappeared as the Mutant released me, holding onto its swelling foot.

I collapsed onto my elbows.

Released a breath.

And sunk my boot into its jaw.

It was knocked backwards to the ground. I scrambled to my feet. Dizziness had the world spinning but I held out a hand. I could feel the knife moving, drawing closer to my body to land into my palm. The buzzing hummed in my ear when a deafening wail tore through me like shards of glass.

It all happened too quick, even as Blue Jay. I caught the Mutant's hand moving in my direction and then, something bashing into my face. The force sent me into the air until my skull had colluded with the walls.

I landed as a heap on the ground. Skin burning from the collusion. The ground had become water and was moving against my palms, trying to drag me down until I was sinking. Blood was running down my face. I could feel it tracing my cheeks. I shook my face. Looked to my left where there was a large panel of debris—a sheet of metal—rested against the wall. I blinked then glanced to the Mutant. It was still cradling its injury. For a moment, I frowned, knowing I hadn't hit it that hard. But I remembered then that Blue Jay had a strength that I still wasn't used to. I had been training and fighting for hours at this point, but I still wasn't Helga. I didn't have her weaknesses. Physically, at least.

Not that it mattered.

I spat out the bloody saliva, then crawled. The floor was wobbling as I moved towards the debris. But I slipped behind it then squeezed into a tiny ball. I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. It became hard to swallow. Sweat was hot on my skin. The wound in my thigh, it had lightened—healed—since I had transformed. But it still was a white, hot throb, as if it were a reminder that even though Blue Jay was strong enough to overcome anything, Helga wasn't.

Helga was a dead weight.

I shut my eyes, truly feeling helpless.

But what was Blue Jay supposed to do? I was still so exhausted from training. I hadn't realised how much of myself I had given until I was here and with nothing else to give. I dabbed my fist to my nose. And tried to figure something out; why was this Mutant even here? According to Nel, its goal was to collect human energy. But this warehouse was abandoned, I hadn't even known of its existence before coming here. I was happy that no civilians were here, but why was the Mutant here then?

"Are you a superhero?"

. . . what?

Looking over my shoulder—

A kid.

I saw a smallkid.

He had a round, chubby face. Dark hair that spiralled from his face in little curls. Golden brown skin, almost sepia-toned. Small, delicate arms. A graffiti'd shirt, a random faceless figure doing a skateboard trick. And light brown eyes, the kind that made you think of trees in the autumn.

He was cute, I'll admit.

But that wasn't the problem. What was he doing here?

"Shit."

I hadn't even realised that it had slipped out until he had scrunched his face.

"Nan says you're not supposed to use swears."

I ignored it. "What are you doing here?"

The brightness in his eyes cooled as he looked around.

"It chased me," was all he said. He had dropped his face as if remembering what had happened to get him here. His lips dipped and for a moment, I wanted to pull him into my arms.

Wait.

"You?" My jaw dropped. "You're who it's after?"

He nodded, but his expression crumbled as he did.

It broke my heart.

"Oh! Well, um—" I cleared my throat then placed a hand to his shoulder. He glanced up. "Don't worry then, kid. My name is Blue Jay. You heard of me?"

Again, he nodded.

"Well, I'm here to protect you."

He blinked. "Like a superhero?"

I found myself smiling.

"Yeah, like a superhero," I said, voice melting into a whisper. "I'm here to keep you safe."

"Like . . . like Wonder Woman?"

I made a face. Always Wonder Woman, never—

"More like Batman."

He twisted his face, confused. "Doesn't Batman have a mask?"

I frowned. "I—"

"And doesn't he wear black?"

"Okay—"

"And isn't Batman a boy?"

Puffing out my cheeks, I gave him a dirty look. "Kid, didn't your parents ever teach you to not to interrupt people?"

I expected him to bite back at that. But he didn't. He lowered his gaze slightly. His brows pressed into a frown, and I knew that I had managed to say the wrong thing again.

"I don't mean to interrupt," he murmured. "And . . . I don't have my parents."

Three things happened when he told me that.

The first, I realised that I was a horrible, mean spirited and vindictive bitch. I mean, seriously, way to go, Helga. You say that you're here to protect him and then immediately rub his parents—or lack of—in his face. I seriously stared at him, not knowing how to respond because, like I said, I was the biggest asshole to roam Hillwood streets.

Second, I needed to get back to being Blue Jay. I was messed up from the training and that Mutant was fast. But I was Blue Jay. I was the Guardian. Not only was it my job to put it down, but it was what I was good at. I suddenly didn't care that I didn't have my powers. Nor that I was tired. Nor that I didn't have a plan or knew how the hell I was going to defeat this Mutant. I just knew that I would.

And third, a warmth started in my chest until it had spread into something fierce. It was thick and pulsating and started from when he had looked down. I suddenly wanted him to be looking back up again, smiling about superheroes. His hopelessness made my soul unfurl until it took up too much space in my chest and I could barely inhale. And I didn't even realise any of this until I had wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

He glanced up in surprise.

"Oh," I heard myself say. "I'm sorry. Who do you live with?"

He hesitated. "My nan."

"Your nan," I repeated then smiled. "Well, don't worry, kid. I'll make sure you're back with her in just a matter of time. You don't have to be scared anymore. I'm here for you."

I watched as something transformed in his gaze. The gloss had been building in his eyes, cheeks flushing. But when he looked at me, that all stopped. His eyes widened and when I looked at their colour, I thought of those sandcastles that I used to build as a kid. I felt that flush tangle in my stomach. I was going to protect him, I told myself. And I didn't care what it took to make that happen. But he would be safe, and he would be with his nan again.

I never wanted him to be scared and alone again.

"What's your name?" I gently asked him.

He opened his mouth, when a metallic screech split the air around us as the debris was torn from the wall. I was pulling the boy into my chest before I had even realised that it was the Mutant. The creature held the debris above its head and when it saw the kid, its eyes blazed.

"You little bitch!" it screamed, then tossed aside the debris.

The boy let out a distressed scream as the debris smashed into the wall, splitting apart into smaller pieces that each echoed sharply from the collusion. He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face into my side. It made something zap in my chest, threatening to strike out in a violent fury, when I felt the wetness coming from his eyes.

The Mutant released another noise, raising his claw to strike.

I wrapped my arms around the kid then kicked off from the ground, ducking beneath its attack, and then rolled away.

Concrete bit into my shoulders when we stopped. I pressed my lips into a straight line and whirled the kid's body around until I had him on my back.

He released a small, surprised sound, but buried his face into my shoulder. I rose to my feet but nudged his leg.

"You alright, kid?" I called over my shoulder.

I had my eyes on the Mutant.

It noticed that we had vanished and spun around, finding us immediately. The creature released a small growl, swinging out its claws. Fear pressed into my throat. Its intent filled the room. I knew that it wanted the kid, not me. I was entertainment, but the kid was its goal.

"I'm okay!" I could hear him say.

Good.

I could feel the fear pounding in my chest, but stronger than that, was the warmth. The care. It surged with the fear, fighting for control. Swirling in shades of blue and gold, tendrils tucking themselves into a braid. I decided, in that moment, that nothing else mattered. I had spent so much time wondering and agonising, picking myself apart until there was nothing left. Until I was a stitch that had come undone. Crushing my mind into a panic room. Why was I chosen? Could I ever be a hero? But I no longer had the time to wonder any of that: if I could be braver, if I could be stronger, if I could be smarter. Better. I could only focus on the weight pressed into my back, balanced in the palms of my hands. He had his legs locked around my waist and his arms around my neck. I needed to keep him safe and that was all that mattered.

The Mutant bolted in my direction.

Fear shot through me, urging me to run, to disappear. But I stayed there. Shifting until I had the kid balanced with one hand, I held out my other and shut my eyes. Fixed my concentration until there was a warmth tingling between my brows. It flooded my senses, pushing back against the beating in my throat, until I could feel the familiar instrument approaching.

There was a sharp noise and when I opened my eyes, it was in time to see the Mutant narrowly avoiding the blade.

The knife split the air and darted in my direction. Something gripped me. I tightened my grip then dropped to the ground, watching as the blade sailed over our heads and collided with the wall.

There was a pause, something that brought my heart down to my knees, when I turned and met the Mutant's glare.

It snarled then bolted.

I addressed the kid over my shoulder.

"Shut your eyes!" I demanded, watching as the creature advanced.

I heard the kid release a small noise before obeying and buried his face into my shoulder. I turned and barely had time to duck beneath the Mutant's claws. Its mouth stretched into a grin before it advanced again. I ducked to the side, evading its attack. It continued lunging for me and I continued only just managing to avoid its attacks. I gritted my teeth when I avoided the claws only by an inch. I was at a disadvantage with the kid on my back like this. He was too close to the violence, but I didn't want to leave him somewhere else. That would lead him wide open to an attack.

Unless—

"Ugh!"

I twisted to the side. The gap between the attacks and my face was rapidly closing. I needed to get rid of the kid, I decided. But I had to be quick and take down the Mutant before it could clamber after them.

So, wrapping both arms around the kid, I spun beneath the Mutant's claws then twisted down to the ground. I was thankful—not for the first time—how elusive I became when I was Blue Jay. Her movements were fast, but fluid. I knew that I had been Helga, I wouldn't have seen what had happened. Her eyes would not have got the actions, but in the span of that half second, I had pulled the boy into my chest, then ducking onto the ground, I allowed for that momentum to transfer itself to him as I pushed him from my hold. His body slid across the ground until his back tapped into the wall.

He blinked, looking surprised.

I smiled, relief pounding in his chest.

And he smiled, for a second though. Because then, his eyes went to something over my shoulder. I reacted immediately—spinning away from where the Mutant had been hoping to plunge its nails into my back. I ducked away from its attack, but then whirled back onto my feet. I wrapped a hand around the Mutant's wrist, swinging its weight around until I had its arm tucked beneath my shoulder. And then, I twisted its arm in a windmill–like motion, until the action had swept the creature onto the ground.

The collusion was loud, satisfying. I was surprised that, despite how loud it was, I still managed to hear a giggle from behind me.

It was small, in comparison. Barely even a twinkle of noise. But I heard it, and I turned before I could help myself. The kid, he was laughing. Hands covering his face, smile lighting in his eyes. And I found myself smiling as well, a lightness dancing in my chest.

His eyes reached mine.

"Get out of here, kid," I told him, motioning for the door that was wide open. He seemed surprised at what I was telling him, so I sent him a wink. "I'll find you in half a minute. Promise."

He slowly stood from the ground. Hand on the wall that was behind him. His eyes moved to the creature on the ground. It was stirring and I didn't want him to see what might happen. So I stepped in front of it, forcing his attention back onto me. I rose my brows, motioning again for the door. The kid understood, there wasn't much time left.

So, he obeyed, running for the door and then leaving.

I waited until his footsteps had faded until releasing the breath that I had been storing. Tension loosened until exhaustion flooded my senses. I had to make this quick before I collapsed. I still had to take the kid back.

But . . .

"You couldn't just help yourself, could you?" I heard myself asking. The Mutant looked up when it heard my voice. But I rammed my fist into its face and the force behind the hit was enough to send it back into the ground. "You couldn't pull yourself away from attacking someone young, someone vulnerable? You guys really are monsters."

The Mutant was picking itself up, collecting itself. Its eye was blinking rapidly to push back the water that was collecting. But when it heard what I said, it suddenly turned its watery gaze to mine.

"You are weak," the Mutant spat. "You may beat me, but there are others. I am not the only one."

Pretty fake.

I smashed my shin into its face again.

The creature released a noise as its cheek slammed back into the ground. I kept my mouth shut and held my hand above my head. I could feel the tingling travelling down my arm as the link pulled in the blade. I could feel it moving through the air. My frame wanted to collapse but I kept it upright. Until the knife was back in my hands and then—

Sqwelp!

—I drove it into the Mutant.

"Kid!"

The grass was tall outside—wild and untamed. It was at my knees and waved like crowds as a warm breeze pushed through. The sun had cast the last of its rays and turned the breeze rich and hot. I came to a stop when I couldn't find him amongst the grass, or even the trees.

Panic roared in my chest.

"Kid!" I tried again. Hair scattered across my face. I whirled around and frantically searched for those curls. "Kid! Where are you?!"

Fuck. Maybe I shouldn't have told him to wait. Maybe I should have kept him on my back, or by my side. But I hadn't wanted him to see it—me killing the Mutant. It was stupid, but I hadn't wanted him to look at me like I were a monster. I wanted him to feel safe. I wanted to keep my promise to him and remain his protector. And if he saw what I did to the Mutant, I didn't know if . . .

It didn't matter. I fucked up. I told him to get out of there and now, I didn't know where he had gone to. I was selfish. I was an idiot. I was—

"Blue Jay!"

I whirled around and his face popped out from the tussock of green blades.

My eyes found his—

"Kid!"

And then, I was running. The sky was moving, the grass scratching my legs. Hair twisted behind my shoulders. I could feel the bite, the burn, radiating from my thigh. It climbed until it had entangled in my chest and weighed down in my stomach. Grass clawed outward, as if to stop me in my pursuit. But I didn't because I couldn't turn away from his eyes.

His arms had stretched open.

And then, I had slammed my body into his, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. Hands in his hair. His arms wrapped around my neck. Sweat poured down my face. I was tired, but so relieved. He was okay. My eyes lifted to the trees, as if searching for a sign that this was real. But my vision turned hazy, into water. I swallowed my tears and pressed my chin into his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" I asked before clamping my mouth shut because I was making that blubbering sound whenever I cried. I didn't know why I was crying—this was my job. I was Blue Jay. It was expected that I protect people. But this, this felt like more.

"Y–Yeah."

He was shaking.

I pressed my hand into his shoulder as if to steady him.

"It's going to be okay, ki—"

"Micah."

I paused, not expecting that. Then slowly, I pulled away until I was looking back in his face. His face was red, eyes wet. I'm sure that I looked the same. I wanted to pull him back into my arms again. But I kept that distance so I could ask him—

"Micah?"

He blinked, then wiped at his eyes to catch the tears. But some managed to escape and slid down his cheeks anyway.

I pressed a hand into the back of his neck.

"My name," he repeated then smiled. "You can call me Micah."

I stared at him, allowing for it all to sink in.

And then, I found myself laughing. Loudly, gratefully. I wrapped my arms around him and placed my cheek on his head.

"Alright, then, Micah," I said. He laughed, hugging me back. "You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah," he nodded and snuggled deeper.

And for the first time that day, I felt relieved. Because I hadn't failed, because Micah was okay.

So, standing to my feet, I kept Micah in my arms, and turned to grin at him.

"Where am I taking you, squirt?"

He beamed at me. "Arnold!"

I blinked.

"Huh?"

We found them at Tina Park.

Night pressed into the city, eating away at the clouds and turning its teeth to the grass. The Park was abandoned, because of course it was. Who wanted to be out, at this time? People were either in their homes, eating their dinner, or getting ready to have their dinner out. People didn't typically come to the parks during this time. But especially not now, given there was still so many questions surrounding the Mutants, surrounding me.

But there they were, a group of teenage boys, the only signs of life. I paused when I saw them. Because when I saw them, I could taste it—dread. I was still understanding it, but when I became Blue Jay, my senses sharpened.

It was probably the most overwhelming difference between being Helga and being Blue Jay. I didn't just see the light; I tasted it. I didn't just hear the sounds; I felt them. I no longer got lost in the dark; I could suddenly understand the dark, as if I had become it. And the air had thickened as if it had become fat from carrying people's feelings. I could taste them—their panic.

They were stood in a large clump, so lost and clueless that they had turned to arguing with one another. I was across the road, in the alleyway. They were on the other end of the park and yet, I could make out their expressions perfectly. I recognised them from my grade. They were still unruly, still so loud.

Arnold was buried within the faces. I couldn't see him, but I knew that he was there.

I didn't know how long I stood there, Micah in my arm. But eventually, he squirmed, and I knew that it was time to come back out again.

"Sorry," I told him then, shifting him onto my hip, I forced a smile. "You ready, bud?"

Smiling, he nodded.

Swallowing my apprehension, I stepped out from the shadows and made my way to the panicking boys. They didn't notice me as I walked. They were still so caught up in pointing blame at each other. But with every step that I took, the weight grew heavier and heavier in my stomach. Something rushed through me until I was tasting bitterness between my teeth. I didn't know where the rush had come from, but my movements became robotic. Swinging back and forth, like I had been through years of military service. I wasn't walking, I was marching. My back had become rigid and my strides wide and long.

And when the boys finally noticed me, I felt as far away from myself as possible. Their eyes traced mine before their jaws dropped. I didn't change. I didn't shift. I kept walking—marching—and my face stayed the same. Smooth. Clean. Professional.

'You are weak.'

No. I wasn't.

I wouldn't be.

It became sickeningly quiet as I moved. No one dared to move a muscle or even meet us halfway. Their eyes remained locked on mine; they barely even registered that Micah was in my arms. A lump rose in my throat. I felt so naked. I suddenly became conscious that my thigh was still burning. That I was still tired, that my weight wasn't balanced out. Could they tell? Did I look weak to them? Like I couldn't protect them, protect anyone?

Pretty fake.

I came to a stop. No one said anything. In fact, they had shifted their faces so now, they avoided my eyes. Awkwardly shuffled their weight. I tried not to let that anger me, because I needed to be above it. But I couldn't pretend that I didn't feel a fire moving down my arms and burning in my joints. They felt guilty, I could tell. But somehow, it made me angrier. Because in their guilt, they had become quiet and lacked the conviction to fix things. They weren't apologising or offering any explanations. They were standing there, avoiding my gaze, and waiting for me to make the first move. Waiting for me to clean up their mess. Their guilt pacified them, and that thought electrified me.

"Arnold Shortman."

The voice didn't sound like mine. It was low and had come from my stomach.

There was a tense pause.

And then, he stepped forward.

He was in shock, I could tell. His skin was white and pinched with worry. His eyes seemed to hold weights in them, as if the reality of the day were pressing into him. He had his sleeves pushed to his elbows, which he always did when he became stressed, because he liked to roll them away from his hands so he could fix a task. But the task wasn't the fault of someone else this time. It was him; it was his fault. And this was the first time I had looked at Arnold and thought that he looked small.

The boys parted to give him space to walk forward. And as they did, they shot him piteous looks, some even giving him encouraging pats on the back.

It made my blood singe.

They were acting like it had been him who had fought the Mutant. They were turning to him, looking at him, as if he were about to be unfairly lectured. As if I were here to spoil their fun, even though I had done so much to fix their mistakes. And it suddenly bothered me how much love he had from everyone, and yet, he was so free from the consequences.

"Hey, Micah," Arnold gave a small wave to the kid. I didn't know how Micah reacted. I couldn't tear my eyes away from Arnold, as if I were searching his face for something. Maybe I was. But I wasn't sure what it was that I was hunting for, something that would make this better. Something that would make this all better, make me better. "You okay, bud?"

He held out his hands, stepping forward.

And suddenly, the anger that had welled in my chest threatened to break across my face.

"Are—" I tightened my hold on Micah, "—you serious?"

And then he stopped, his eyes moving to mine as if he had just noticed me. Maybe he had. Maybe he hadn't noticed me until now. He saw my services, but he hadn't seen my sacrifices. His eyes had glazed over mine, because this was my job and it was expected of me. To protect people, to clean up his messes. I suddenly wondered if Arnold had ever felt the consequences of anything in his life, if he had ever felt any pain. Because he showed no recognition of mine, or even Micah's. Was that who Arnold was?

He blinked. "I'm sorry?"

He then wilted and I knew for certain that the control I exerted over my expression, it had become lost, and how I felt was exactly how I looked.

"I said—" I took a step forward, "—are. You. Serious."

It wasn't a question.

He hesitated. "About wha—"

"About what!" I barked out a laugh then moved to set Micah down next to me. "Let's see, how about despite having a responsibility to look after Micah, you ditched him the minute that you were offered the chance, to play ball with your friends! The fact that his grandmother, she trusted you, and you lied to her! The fact that even though there's been two attacks in the past two days, you still went out, only to lose him immediately! The fact that I had to get him for you because you were too—too—"

I broke off because everything seemed so heavy. It was a weight pressing down in my throat and I knew that if I kept going, I would make everything crumble and collapse into waves.

Arnold's face had fallen with every word that I spoke. He no longer looked at me, lowering his face until his eyes were on his shoes. It was a piteous sight. Cheeks burning red. Shoulders crumbled. Eyes blinking. I knew that beneath the stirring waves, that I felt bad for him. That I wanted to wrap around him, like a blanket, and protect him from the truth. But that was the thing: it was the truth.

He tried responding. "I'm sor—"

"No, I'm not done," I held up a hand. And then, I noticed it was trembling. I made sure to move it until it was tucked against my back. I hated that they did that when I was angry. "He was targeted, Arnold! A Mutant sought him out, specifically! I don't know why and frankly, I don't care! I don't know what would have happened had I not gotten there when I did! What's wrong with you, Arnold? Why couldn't you do this one thing?"

And when I said that, it was like it had broken a spell, because the numbness in my brain decayed. The words echoed, why couldn't you do this one thing? As if there were other things that he couldn't do. That he hadn't done. Pain twisted through my body in familiar patterns. Was I even yelling at Arnold for what had happened, or was this about something else?

Everything became frozen, stretching into an uncomfortable silence that made me nervous. The air had become so brittle that everything threatened to crack. No one dared to say a word. But they were looking at me and then Arnold and I felt a sting of self consciousness. As if everyone had looked past my eyes to peer into my mind. Tell me what I was really feeling.

What was I feeling?

"Dude, you're being way harsh," I suddenly heard and had to fight against the instinctive sigh that crept into my chest. Gerald. He stepped forward, shoving aside some of the other guys until he was standing next to Arnold. He placed a hand on the blonde's shoulder, prompting him to look at his friend, but Gerald kept his eyes on mine.

I wanted to laugh.

"Oh, am I?"

I marched forward without even realising until I was standing inches from Gerald's face. The boys stepped back like I were a wild animal, but Gerald didn't even flinch. He kept his eyes on mine, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes," he said. "Look, I'm not saying that what he did was smart, but it wasn't just him. We all encouraged him—hell, it was my idea!" He stepped backwards and let loose a breath. I watched as his expression shifted and when he looked back, it was with an expression that stunned me. Guilt swam across his eyes like gloss. His neck bobbed, like he was trying to push something back. Regret.

I had known Gerald since I was a child; my history with him went as far back as it did with Arnold. And in that time, I had never seen Gerald as anything less than confident and laidback. He was bright, always doing well in his algebra classes although he struggled when it came to English. But it seemed like nothing could really get under his skin. Not enough to have an impact on him, anyway.

But in this moment, I saw a side to him that I had never been exposed to. Never thought he was capable of experiencing. And when I looked back at the boys, I realised that they weren't the monsters I had made them out to be. They were boys. Idiots. Selfish, but boys. Kids. How had I never seen them as such?

Gerald swallowed.

"If you're going to blame anyone," he said, whispered it. "If you're going to yell at anyone for what happened, then let it be me."

And he meant it.

I stared at him, waiting for him to go on. Gerald wasn't known for being vulnerable. Loyal to a fault, yes, but not vulnerable. But I knew that this wasn't a façade or an act, Gerald genuinely felt this. He blamed himself, maybe even more then Arnold did.

And then it hit me—what I had become. How I had fallen back into Helga. I no longer stood as a protector, as Blue Jay. I had become their bully. Punching down on them. Making them feel wretched so I wouldn't hate myself. I had become their nightmare to cope with what I was, with what I felt. Nothing had changed. Nothing would ever change. I wasn't brave or noble. I wasn't a Champion. I was me—me. And nothing would ever change that.

Then, someone's hand jumped into mine.

My eyes went down to Micah, who suddenly seemed panicked. His eyes were wide, his breath coming out hard and fast.

My hands went to the sides of his face and my knees crept to the ground.

"Micah?" I tried pulling his face to mine, but he was looking somewhere else. "Bud? Hey, what's—"

He then pointed and when he did, my stomach dropped, because I knew what it was that he was indicating. Everyone followed the line that his finger pointed in, and I could hear the gasping. Hear the murmuring, the gravel cracking beneath shoes as some boys stepped backwards. Ice crept up my spine and burned the back of my skull. I knew what was waiting for me.

So, when I turned, I didn't react like the boys did.

Hell, I didn't react at all.

Mutant.

I just stared. The Mutant looked like it had stepped out of a horror video game (at least, the kinds that I'd caught glances of when Gerald was raving at school, flashing his phone to explain his hype). It didn't have any eyes, but it had a wide, black mouth, with pink teeth that glistened wet in the light. Skin twisted to stretch across its muscles. Its hands were like boulders that sharpened into five points at the ends. It was large, even from here, I could see that it would have been three times taller, bigger, then me. It was nothing like the Mutant that had come before it; where that one had been tiny but fast, this one was large and I presumed very, very strong.

I knew that I should have panicked. But I was calm, tranquil. Or at least, that's what I told myself. Maybe I was doing what I always did when I felt too much, which was stuffing it all beneath a floorboard so I could convince myself that I wasn't feeling anything. I was grateful, regardless.

A hand tugged on mine and when I turned, Micah's eyes found mine.

I had too much to protect.

"Arnold," I called in a voice that didn't feel like mine.

His eyes jerked back to mine, cheeks darkening slightly. I chose to ignore it. His eyebrows bobbed as he waited for my command, but he could barely even get out an, "Mm?" before I was shoving Micah into his arms.

His gaze went down to the boy, surprised, but I was already pressing a hand into both Arnold and Gerald's shoulders. Moving them away.

Gerald's confusion came in the form of a frown. "What're yo—"

"Keep him safe," I pressed them with a stare. Both boys dropped their gazes at that, in guilt. I wanted to tell them that it didn't matter anymore. That we had to keep moving forward, because lingering in the past did nothing but wash everything out into regret. But I would be a hypocrite to say that, so instead, I said, "Keep yourselves safe."

That made them both look up at me, but I turned around before I caught their expressions. Faced the Mutant. It didn't have eyes and yet, I knew that its attention was focused on me. I could feel a pulse rushing cold into my throat, spreading into my chest until it was a twisting mess that threatened to cave in. I stepped forward before that could happen, before I lingered and made everything collapse. And then I took another and then another. I was walking, I realised, bringing myself closer and closer towards the monster and further and further away from the boys.

The Mutant didn't bolt forward, like I had been expecting. Instead, it copied my actions and began taking steps across the street. I hoped that some of the boys were leaving; I could hear that some of them were taking necessary steps that hopefully signalled their leaving. But not enough. The majority had frozen in their steps, and I knew that Arnold was one of them. Gravel crunched beneath my heels. The night air had thinned until it became like ice, threatening to crack and tear everything apart. Pounding burned my ears. I knew that with every step, I was bridging the gap that lay between us.

"Lemme guess," I heard myself say over the pounding. Screams threatened to blast from my chest, but I pushed it aside. "Your invite got lost in the mail?"

Despite my back to them, I could feel the pause stirring from the boys. The murmuring, the surprise that despite the seriousness of the situation, I didn't seem affected. I didn't seem scared. I knew that those observations were building passages in their minds that would inevitably lead them to the same conclusion: Blue Jay, look at how cool she was. Look at how strong she was. She was so cool and strong and badass that she wasn't even scared. That Mutant . . . look at how big it is, how small she is. And she doesn't even care. Blue Jay, she's going to save us.

I pressed my lips together. At least someone believed that.

"I was sent by my master," it declared. Its voice was thundering and felt as firm as the stones pressed beneath my feet.

I made a face, pressing a hand to my hip. "Hmm? This master got an actual name?"

The Mutant growled, a deep and guttural sound. "That is none of your concern, mortal!"

I came to a stop and pressed my hand to my hip.

The Mutant stood close enough that I could see details that before, I hadn't caught. Namely, it's skin. It wasn't soft like I had been expecting. Instead, it seemed like it had been carved from stone, a mosaic of pavement.

I rolled my eyes. And all I had was my knife.

"Yeah, this whole, 'I work and obey my mysterious asshole master, who by the way, must be pretty ugly if he can't even show up and has to hide behind you fuckers' thing? Getting old, real fast."

The Mutant snarled then launched towards me.

Its fist zoomed for my face and I moved backwards. The punch would have been a heck of a shock, its fist was larger than my torso. I was thankful for the instincts that seemed to pull on my strings like I were a puppet. I heard the second fist coming and ducked back an instant before it smashed into my head. I could hear the murmuring from the boys, their fear turning into awe. But it quickly was lost beneath the panting and growling that came from our fight.

The Mutant attacked again, but this time, I spun on my heel and ducked so that the fist flew over my head. Twisting, I sent my own fist into its side. I didn't expect much to come out of it—considering how much larger the Mutant was then me—but the result had the creature caving in on itself, holding onto its ribs.

I took its position as my advantage, spinning around then swinging so that my vambraces slammed into its temple. The collusion was a sickening crack! which pushed the Mutant further down. I decided now was the time and dug into my boot for my weapon.

It was cold but comforting between my fingers. I flipped the knife up, caught it as it fell, and attacked. Heat made the air moist. The Mutant's hands shot out before I could land my mark. Wrapping around my wrists, the Mutant prevented me from moving. I struggled and pushed against it. But strain burned from the effort. My knees began to shake, the balls of my feet painfully dug into the ground. The Mutant was slow, but it was stronger. That thought made something zap in my chest before the grip around my wrist tightened, and a force swung me until the floor had disappeared. The air sharpened and travelled beneath my arms until something slashed into my back. I didn't know what it was. But it made the world spin until the ground slammed back into my face. It pressed cold and hard into my chest, beneath my hands, and the world held me down, slamming its weight into my back until I had crumbled.

I wanted to push back to my feet and continue fighting, but everything was too much. The air had become a blur of colours that crashed down into me like water. Sounds pounded like thunder. Nausea twisted in my stomach, gathering my senses until they had sloshed to the side. I wanted to puke.

Fuck. This thing was wicked strong. How was I supposed to—

But then I heard it—footsteps. Pressing, thundering against the ground. Getting closer. Chills shot down my spine and when the shadow flew over me, I pushed against the ground and swung backwards. It happened to fast, my senses couldn't catch up and for a moment, my vision had everything rushing to its side. But the concrete appeared beneath my palms and I scrambled away until I heard the collusion.

It was hard. I could hear the floor shuddering before it split apart into pieces. I shook my face and when my vision steadied, I could see the cracks that spindled from beneath the Mutant's fist. My pulse shuddered in my throat. But I acted fast and slammed out my foot until it struck the Mutant's face—

Thwack!

The Mutant flew backwards. I leaned back on my elbows then swung onto my feet. Something grazed my hand and when I looked, I saw that it was an empty trash bin. I moved, wrapping my hand around it, then holding it above my head. Something pounded in my muscles, it didn't feel like I was carrying anything. I sent the trash bin shooting until it had slammed into the Mutant's face.

The impact sent it staggering, its footfalls becoming heavy and uneven, but it did not go down.

I made a face. Yeah, of course it didn't, that would make it too easy.

I ran forward, curling my hands into fists, and then—

Thwack!

THWACK!

It left my fists pounding like they were swollen with blood. Heartbeat pressing to the sides of my face. Skin prickling with sweat. But the Mutant finally hit the ground from the impact. The floor shuddered. Stares clung to my shoulders. I shoved them to the back of my mind. Stretching out my arms, I summoned my knife, and when I felt the air splitting from its arrival, I made a harsh motion that sent the blade into the Mutant's broken skin.

It was quick, sinking into its flesh like butter.

And when it did, the hairs on my neck went rigid.

The explosion. I didn't have much time before . . .

But then, something occurred to me.

Adrenaline was pushing through me until everything was burning. Until everything had turned into a blur that had no reason, held no logic. It had everything rushing until it was a waterfall that poured across my face. I blamed those sensations for how I behaved next. Rather than running away, I sent a sharp kick to the Mutant. Strength had been festering, curling in my bones like it were a bomb that had been waiting to be set off. It came to me in electric pieces. Heat that shifted beneath my skin and made the air slip smooth beneath my arms. And so, when I kicked the Mutant, the body was sent flying into the air. The weight was nothing. And when its skin split apart, the explosion came as a sound more than a force.

Sounds cracked and turned the world into rippling heat waves. Sparks skittered across the floor. Shards hurtled through the air. Heat pressed into my face until it had gotten in my teeth. I turned my face away from the explosion, cheeks stinging like blisters. The light had become hot and as it rolled down my spine, hair twirled around my face. It lifted until it swelled and as light poured, the strands turned into molten, summer shades. I held a hand to my face to sweep it from my eye. Salt burned my throat. The cough that rose from my chest, it came out as a small and almost breathless huff. I pressed a hand to my throat, releasing a small noise, then rose my eyes until they were back onto the boys.

They hadn't moved from where I had last left them. I wanted to be angry that so many had stayed rather than getting themselves to safety. But I was too exhausted, too relieved that this somehow had worked out. I was surprised to find that their eyes were already on me. I knew that I had become a spot standing between blushing colours that battled for domination. The Mutant had been big, so therefore, so was the explosion. So my figure couldn't have looked like much in comparison, a small and dark dot standing in front of a magnificent but terrifying sight.

But I shook my face and chose not to linger on it, walking in their direction. Sounds still roared in my ears. The beating in my chest was a cold swirl tucked beneath my jaw. Shadows sprawled across my feet as lights combed over me. Colours bent around my curves. I raised my hand again to move the hair from my eyes. But it had become a tide that I could no longer control. I knew that I looked like a mess right now. I tried not to let that get to me because I knew that everyone was still watching me.

But when I reached them, the silence continued. It hit me, dazed and confused, and I suddenly was unable to find my words. It was a weird silence. It wasn't like before where it had been born from awkwardness. This was different, somehow.

I rose my eyes to their faces and immediately wished that I hadn't. They looked at me in a way that made me feel like I had all the attention in the world. Like the sun was pinned to my back, directing everyone's focus until their stares had become tied to my skin. I hadn't realised how many boys were even apart of this pack until now. I had been too focused on Micah, on Arnold. But now I counted—thirteen. Thirteen boys were staring at me like I was something to be marvelled at. Sweat began to build around my neck. I found my eyes on Arnold and immediately, I questioned whether that had been the right move. He was already watching me, but I couldn't be sure how. His eyes brimmed with an emotion. I just wasn't sure what it was.

I just knew that it made me feel like I had done something wrong.

"Is—" I cleared my throat when my voice wavered. "Is everyone alright?"

Their murmurs rippled across like a chorus. No one signified that something had gone wrong. I found myself even scanning Gerald because he had been too quiet as well. But I stopped when I caught Micah's eye. He had fallen silent, his eyes becoming big and wide and latching onto mine. The muscles in my face shifted until I was smiling at him. Sending him a wink. I watched as the kid's expression softened into a smile and tiny giggle.

I released a breath, relieved. At least he seemed alright.

But then, one of the boys stepped forward, pointing in a random direction.

"Look!" he cried. "There's a man up there!"

My stomach churned. I watched as each of the boys' expressions shift and transform as they followed the line of sight from the earlier boy. I followed their line of sight, looking over my shoulder at a tall building across the street.

My heart stopped.

He stood atop the building, darkness that had bled into a shape. The moonlight rolled from behind him, washing his face in shadows, but outlining his silhouette. He stood tall, feet firmly planted apart. Broad shoulders and strong limbs. Hands shoved into his pockets. His teeth glinted wet in the light as he grinned crookedly. I couldn't see his eyes but somehow, I knew that it was me that he was watching.

I wanted to speak—to yell at him or do something—but the words suddenly felt sticky as they lay plastered against my throat. My knees had become weights, threatening to make everything cave in until I was crushed into nothing.

Who was this man?

The air had begun stinging my face when the man suddenly turned, disappearing into the shadows. That left me there with the boys, with Arnold. And yet, somehow I knew I had to follow him. It was like there was a cord stretching between us that was tugging me closer towards him.

I needed to know who he was.

So I bolted.

I could hear the boys' voices rippling from behind me, demanding who that was, or what was about to happen. But they didn't follow which was good because I knew I couldn't protect them. Not against him. And yet, I didn't turn away. I kept running blindly into the shadows. I wasn't sure where it was that I was headed, I just hoped that it was the right way.

Cold night air flooded my lungs and made everything crackle. My pulse was jumping so violently that it threatened to make everything explode. Static fried in my ears. My face had become flushed. Fingers curled into clammy fists. Where was he?

I slid to a stop then frantically spun around. Sweat crept down my face like ants. I pushed back my hair and scanned the area—it was dark and damp. An abandoned site behind an indistinguishable building.

Scrunched newspapers tumbled across the gravel as if stuck in washing machines. Stained boxes had been stacked and graffiti covered the larger bins. I wrinkled my nose at the putrid smell. Jesus, where was I?

I frowned. Maybe he had—

A crushing blow struck the back of my skull.

Shit!

The force sent me onto my stomach, where the ground whacked into my face, and gravel bit into my skin. From all sides, dizziness pressed into me. It had dark shapes popping up across my vision. Everything spun as shapes began merging. I tried blinking, shaking myself awake, then pressed my palms into the ground. Pushed against the gravel. Looked around, searching for his face. Where was—

Laughter.

I froze. Didn't move, didn't blink, didn't even breathe.

Then, my skin crawled as my senses burned—

I rolled to my side and felt something—a white flash—glaze past my cheek. It happened so quickly that it left chills running down my skin. Heart throbbing in my chest. I blinked then looked back and felt my jaw drop. Where my head had been, a silver pillar now stood, sticking out from the gravel.

I frowned at the sheen of the pillar. Was that . . . ice?

"So, this is the famous Blue Jay," a voice suddenly spoke from behind. Something dropped to my knees when it did. Looking in the direction that it came from, I stared at a man completely concealed in the shadows. "I'm honoured."

His voice was tender and yet, it rung. Teasing. Irritation burned in my chest. Everything was still pounding, but the patronisation in his voice was all I could focus on.

"Yeah?" I bit out, "Well, how about you do me the honour of revealing to me your face?"

He chuckled—a deep rumble that had a cold edge.

"If the lady insists."

The gravel crunched beneath his feet as he stepped from the shadows, revealing his features.

He was handsome—inhumanly so.

He had a beauty that was sharp with a fine bone structure that was perfectly symmetrical. Loose silver curls swirled and swarmed his eyes. They were curls, but their starkness reminded me of a silver fox. His eyes were dark and pressed into me like needles. He watched me like he was amused, and the right side of his mouth turned up.

I glared at him until I moved to my feet to stand from the ground.

"So—" I stepped forward, placing my hands onto my hips. "—I'm guessing you're the famous master, then?"

He smirked. "Only if you want me to be, my lady."

Heat glowed in my skin. I hoped that he couldn't see because it was so dark but somehow, I knew that he was aware. That he had been hoping for it.

He chuckled, proving me right.

I gritted my teeth—I was acting like Helga.

"Who are you?" I demanded. "And what do you want?"

"You can call me Serec," he answered and rolled his shoulders. "And as for what I want, well, it appears that two of our creations have been terminated in the past forty–eight hours—three now, actually."

"They attacked people," I crossed my arms over my chest. "They had what was coming to them."

He chuckled, holding his palms up in a surrendering stance.

"Of course, my lady," he nodded. My nose wrinkled; I was beginning to hate that term. "But surely, you'd understand if one woman were to suddenly appear and challenge our authority, we would have to investigate the situation at once."

Of course, I'd realised this. I knew that at some point Acantha would notice that her Mutants were being taken down. And eventually she'd have to look into it. But it didn't make it any less comforting knowing that I was staring into the eyes of a man allied with a woman like that. She could destroy anything and everything. And him . . .

I didn't know anything about him. And that somehow made him scarier.

"Your point?" I said, rolling my face like I was being held up at the grocery store rather than facing someone who could walk away with my life tonight.

He didn't even seem offended at my tone.

"My, how impatient you are," he commented in a tone that angered me further. "But yes, I sent those previous creatures with the purpose of watching you—of learning about you. And I'll admit, I have become fascinated with you. You are quite a dazzling woman, my lady."

"Stop calling me that," I insisted before I could stop myself. It brought a heat back to my cheeks because as he watched me with a grin growing across his face, I knew that I had misspoken. I had allowed for him to see that he could get under my skin. That he could have an effect on me.

"Apologies, but . . . as I have confessed, I have developed an interest in you . . . well, specifically your powers." My blood ran cold when he said that. "Which you have not yet revealed tonight, to my disappointment." His eyes buried into mine. "Please, my lady, would you give a display, right here, right now?"

Shit.

He held out a gloved hand, like he was asking for a dance.

My muscles had frozen, but there was a tingling sensation that made me want to run. It sent my brain into hyperdrive until my thoughts had been split into thousands of shards. Did he know? Was he taunting me? Was this all just one big trick? Would he hurt the boys? How was I supposed to get out of this?

I had the blade shaking between my fingers without even realising I had reached for it. I needed to get out of this. Without my powers. Like I had been doing since my first night as Blue Jay. I had gotten through those battles since without them. Maybe I had a chance tonight.

I sent my knife sailing through the air.

But Serec scoffed, looking put off with that move. He twisted his torso to the side and watched the knife fly past his shoulder.

My jaw dropped at his nonchalance.

Placing a hand to his hip, he faced me with a raised brow. "If you don't mind, I think I'd like to take the lead in this dance."

He said it while sweeping his arms to the side and then leaning forward into a graceful bow at the waist.

My hands squeezed into fists.

And he launched forward.

Spreading my feet shoulder-width apart, I held up my fists and clenched my jaw shut. You can handle this, you can handle this, you can handle this—

He slashed his hand forward. I jerked to the side and it grazed my chin. I knew that had he landed his target, it would've been one hell of a shot. He grinned and went in for another, but I side–stepped and twisted my torso away.

Gritting my teeth, I swung for him. He stepped backwards, tilting back his head and avoiding my attack. He smiled the entire time that it happened. And he continued smiling even as he reached to wrap a hand around my fist—and squeezed. An ache spread from my knuckles. I tried concealing my cries behind clamped lips. He chuckled and squeezed tighter and tighter until—

Crunch.

This time, I did cry.

Fire burst from underneath my skin. I let out a strangled scream as a crippling throb lanced over my fist. It felt like my bones had tripled in their size. Burning spread from the tips of my fingers all the way to my elbow. Blinded me with black spots. I tried focusing on my breathing, but Serec sent fresh ripples by squeezing even tighter.

The scream that came from within me almost tore my throat apart. The world had turned into water that swirled, but through it all, I could see his lips lifting into a small grin. The pain had welled and soared, but when I saw that grin, something threatened to burn a hole in my chest. Anger. And it was hot like oil. He threw me to the side but when he did, that anger thrashed out. As I fell, I shot out my leg in a vicious swipe—

CRACK!

I couldn't see where it landed. Everything shuffled across my vision too fast. But I caught something dark and red bursting from Serec's nose. It brought me satisfaction, despite the pain. He wasn't unbreakable. ButI staggered backwards and, tripping on something I couldn't see, landed on my back.

When the ground had knocked into my head, it made my vision swim. Everything had become hazy and cloudy. Gravel pressed itself into a spot beneath my hair where it felt like needles were jamming their way through my skin. The air had become cold but it hurdled down my throat and tore everything apart like it were made from glass. Hair stuck to my cheeks and my heartbeat pressed to my skin like it was warning me from getting up. I couldn't get up, no matter how much I wanted to. My limbs were too heavy. Pain still thrived in my knuckles so I clutched them to my chest. It was agonising—they were broken, I knew that. They had already begun to swell.

Shit.

My right hand was my dominant hand. My left hits were significantly weaker. How long would it take to heal? Healing processes when you were a Guardian normally cleaned things up much faster. But I didn't know how long it would be before I could use my hand again.

"You're . . ." I looked up at the white–haired man. He was looking at his stained glove like blood was something he hadn't encountered before. Blood dripped from his face and he sniffled, wiping his nose, then turned his eyes back to mine. ". . . not acting on our agreement!"

He charged again and I barely scrambled to my feet when he began throwing more punches.

Biting my tongue, I dodged every one of them—barely.

"Why—won't—you—" he grunted between each word, "—show—me?"

My body was getting too tired. I was almost out of air and my strength was fading.

His punches then abruptly ceased and he took a step back.

I scowled at him because he hardly seemed bothered with our combat. I knew that I looked awful, that I looked like I'd come from a war while he had barely broken a sweat. I tried reminding myself that I'd been fighting for far longer today, but I knew that, even if our combating times weren't uneven, he would still be doing far better than I was.

He gave me a once–over. "Tired?"

I let out a harsh breath.

"No," I barked and straightened my posture. "Of course not!"

He grinned. "Good."

I narrowed my eyes. What was he playing at?

Then, a flash of silver flew from over his shoulder. Serec didn't flinch and calmly watched as it plummeted for my face. I jerked to the side and narrowly avoided it. And then looked over my shoulder, searching for whatever that had been. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared. I couldn't spot it.

I rose a brow. What even was tha—

Something zoomed forward and zapped into my face. Pain exploded in my jaw and black began to ooze and curl around me. Sounds gushed like water. The ground seemed to have grown softer as I struggled to keep myself falling.

I pressed a hand to my face, if nothing then for the sake of finding something stable that wouldn't collapse beneath me. But when I looked up, it was in time to catch a white blur.

Stars burst in my vision as my head snapped back. Bitterness stung my tongue. Something swept beneath my feet and with a choked cry, I was flat on my back.

I gasped, saliva gurgling from the back of my throat.

Black swam as a ringing burned my ears. Hot blood streamed down my jaw and into my hair. I could feel my eyelids slipping shut against my will. I could hear Serec laughing, but I was so tired—so exhausted—that I couldn't care anymore.

But then, pins and needles crawled across my scalp. I screamed as I was pulled by my hair and forced to my knees. Something sharp was held to my throat, preventing me from moving. Opening my eyes, I held back a gasp—it was my knife. Coated in a layer of ice and held in a cloaked hand.

I saw his teeth before his eyes. White, wet, glistening. His lips had pulled back to reveal them, but I wasn't sure it was in a smile anymore.

He stood inches from my face, bent at the waist, with his nose almost touching my forehead.

He laughed—a cold cackle.

"Show me!" He demanded and pressed the knife further. "I want to see them for myself!"

I spat blood.

He recoiled, reaching up to wipe the red saliva from his face. I hissed when the blade nicked my throat and a droplet slid down my chest. I could see as his eyes flickered to follow the movement and knew that I didn't have that long a distraction.

I swung up my fist in an uppercut.

Crunch.

Serec's upper and lower rows of teeth made contact and his head snapped backwards. The knife slipped from his fingers and I scrambled from his grasp. The ground was spinning and when I rose to my feet, it made an alarming shift to the left. I squeezed my eyes shut and clung to the metal stackbin. I chewed on my bottom lip as my stomach shifted. Sweat slipped down my face. I needed to continue—I couldn't rest now.

I rose my eyes.

Blood was running down Serec's shirt as he pinched his nose. My knife lay by his feet. I outstretched my palm in its direction and summoned my weapon.

. . . only for nothing to happen.

My eyes widened. What?

I tried again. Then again and again. But my knife did not move. It sat still by his feet, glistening in the moonlight like it were taunting me.

Serec's eyes snapped in my direction, burning with mirth. He spread his arm in the knife's direction and as if pulled by strings, the knife rose and flew into his hand.

My mouth fell open. How—

Then, I remembered. The ice that coated the blade. My jaw tightened. Of course—ice. Serec could manipulate it. It wasn't the blade he was controlling, but the ice stuck to it.

It pissed me off because it was sort of brilliant.

Serec bared his teeth and then darted, holding out the knife so he could swipe for my face. Jerking back, the blade missed my nose by a hair. He struck again; twisting my body away, it only glanced my side. He continued swiping and I continued barely avoiding his attacks.

But exhaustion was creeping up on me. It rose in me like a cloud, dulling my senses, and making the burden in my back grow heavier and heavier. Fatigue weighed my muscles down. I could feel my reflexes growing slower. It became harder to evade everything, to act like it didn't exist. The truth. And Serec knew this; he had sent those Mutants not just to assess my strength, but to exhaust it out of me. So this fight, I would barely have any remaining strength to protect myself. So he could rid himself of another threat. I gritted my teeth, swinging to the side to avoid the blade on my neck. That had been his plan all along.

He then acted so quick that I barely saw it coming. But one minute he'd been attacking me with my own weapon, then the next he was reaching forth with an open hand—

SMACK!

The slap sent me stumbling backwards, clutching my cheek. My head smacked into the bin as my mind was left reeling.

The same white blur overtook my vision and my skull hit the gravel. The edges of my vision had softened into shadows and it was hard to breathe. Fighting those shadows, I realised that Serec was sat on my chest and had his knees pinned against my shoulders.

I stared up into his eyes; his dark, pitless eyes. Everything in my body, every fibre, was screaming at me to fight . . . but I was so tired. Rows of vicious teeth curled into an alienating smile. Serec moved closer, face looming over my own, as his eyes forced their way into mine.

"Show me," his voice was breathy as he practically begged me.

"Fuck—" I bared my teeth. "Fuck you!"

His face darkened.

Then he launched the blade into my palm.

I screamed—not just from my mouth, but my whole body. Eyes wide with terror, my screams pierced the night. I tried breaking away, but the pain was excruciating. He chuckled and pushed the knife further into my flesh. The screams became louder. Cracked under pressure. The metal had disappeared into my skin so it was just the hilt as the metal dug into the ground. I roared as the warmth pooled in my palm and ran down my wrist.

I slammed my head again and again into the gravel. Trying to make something else hurt so it could distract me from that.

But then something wrapped around my throat. Preventing me from hurting myself. Cutting off my screams. Black softened until it was drawing me further and further into its awaiting arms. Things were softening until all that was left was the pain that shackled me, crushing me until I was nothing.

Serec's wide eyes loomed over mine.

"Use your powers!" he demanded. "Defend yourself!"

My breaths had become gasps as his hold tightened. The burning around my throat, I knew, would become bruises. But . . . I didn't care. It didn't bother me, because . . .

Without you, all hope is lost.

I had failed.

I had failed everyone; Phoebe, Arnold, Micah, Nel . . . everyone.

Nothing more than a pretty fake.

He was right. I had never stood a chance; not against the Mutants, not against Serec . . . no one. Because at the end of the day, you couldn't make something what it wasn't. I wasn't a hero, I wasn't a saviour, I was a failure. The plan was doomed from the beginning, from the minute that Nel had decided she was going to take a chance on me.

And now, everyone would die.

Because of me.

If you don't, who will?

. . . death. What would my parents think? Would they care? Would they be surprised? Would the police report it as Helga or Blue Jay? Would anyone care if it were Helga? Would they even notice? I had reserved myself to the shadows years ago. Maybe it had been with some foolish ambition to atone for my sins. Or maybe I had done it to keep punishing myself. I had wracked my brain for as long as I could remember, picking between the options like it mattered. But in that moment, I realised that maybe, there was a third, more terrifying option. Maybe the motivation had never been noble, but something more vulgar. I had stopped bullying everyone because I didn't want to keep hurting people, but maybe, I still needed that. That violence, that power. And turning away had protected everyone from my cruelty but it had also shifted its sights onto the only target left—me. Maybe I still kept myself away from everyone not to protect them, but to punish myself. To still enact violence.

Maybe I was no different from what I had feared all this time. I was still violent, I was still cruel, and I still deserved that punishment.

You surprise me, Helga.

Was that why I had been chosen? Not because of any virtues I may have possessed, but because no one else deserved to live this life, where you were forced to stay on alert all night, while muffling your tears and screams the next day? Because in one night, everything could be taken from you? Because no one would even notice if it was taken? No one would miss me if I was gone.

Blackness filled the space and pushed until everything had stopped hurting. Until I could no longer feel the pain, feel the sounds, because everything had been a dizzying mess that oozed and curled around me. I could only hear the gentle pressing of my heartbeat. Sobs echoing in my ears.

And I didn't care.

I never cared.

Not anymore, I . . .

A gasp.

It disappeared—the pressure around my neck, on my chest.

It was gone.

Cold, crisp air assaulted my throat and I hacked. I coughed and inhaled whatever I could. My ribs heaved, but I felt no benefit. Tears slipped down my face, leaving a tight and dry feeling in my chest. I brought a hand to my throat—I could breathe. Why?

My vision was blurry, but I looked in his direction—Serec. I moved my gaze to him, but I couldn't make out his face. I mostly saw a blur, a white blur. He stood in front of me, and his gaze was heavy—staring. He was staring at me but doing nothing else. Why hadn't he killed me?

"You—" I heard his voice. It somehow felt like a whisper. "You don't have your powers."

I flinched but didn't bother denying it. What was the point?

I expected him to laugh, or even chuckle, like he had been doing this entire encounter. But he didn't. I could see him biting his lip, but I still couldn't make out his expression. Only that he watched me and as he did, silence filled the space. It frightened me more than everything tonight because I didn't know what he was thinking.

I only knew that it wasn't good.

"I am disappointed," he mentioned with a small clucking sound coming from his tongue. The gravel crunched beneath his boot and I could see his shape shifting as he propped his hand onto his hip. "I will be honest, you have disappointed me, my lady, but . . . I also cannot deny that this is good news indeed. Acantha, she will be pleased to hear this." I was expecting it, but my heart still dropped when her name was mentioned. "I shall take my leave now but . . . take care of that wound, would you?"

And with another bow, he turned around and disappeared into the alley.

Leaving me alone.

I slumped back, head resting against the ground. My mind spun as I tried desperately to cling onto everything that had just happened. To understand what had just happened. Serec had fought me. Serec had taunted me. He had realised that I no longer had any powers. And he had promised that Acantha was going to find out. That I was defenceless, that I was just a stupid girl who still didn't know what I was doing.

The realisation all hit me at once: they could kill me. They could do it in a second and I couldn't do anything about it. I was weak. They were strong. Nothing was stopping them from killing me.

My mind began failing. I couldn't breathe—it felt like there were still hands around me. I felt naked, like the clothes had been ripped from my body as a cold dose of reality sunk in. Nel could train me as much as she liked, but there was no way that I could succeed. Acantha was stronger than I could ever become. It was only a matter of time before she stopped amusing herself and killed me.

The world was a blur; the sounds, the taste, the smell.

Everything was gone.

I paused and tried holding back the feelings.

But couldn't.

A lone tear traced down my temple and soaked my hair. And just like that—the dam broke. The muscles in my chin trembled as more and more tears slipped down my face. I looked up at the moon and gasped for air that wasn't there. Brick by brick, my walls crumbled as sobs wracked through my body. My vocal chords strained as another raw cry came from my mouth. I curled into a fetal position and pretended that the pain from my palm wasn't there. Because I was tired. God, I was so tired. Curling into a ball, I hoped that someone would save me. But no one would, no one was there. No one ever did. A choked cry for help forced itself from my throat as another drop ran down my face.

But no one would come. Of course not. It was just me.

Alone.

Always fighting alone. Dying alone.

I was a cow bred for slaughter. A prisoner waiting for her execution. I was still here because of luck and nothing else. I wasn't a match for anyone. I wasn't any more effective than anyone else—anymore than Helga.

Digging my palm into my eyes, I scrubbed away the tears.

Poor Helga, the girl who no one loved. Everyone, it seemed, loved Blue Jay. There was some criticism, but entering a room, everyone fell to their knees for her. Helga was her opposite. Helga wasn't a champion. She had never been a champion. She was a failure and never mattered. That was why she had been chosen. Her death wouldn't mean anything to anyone. It wouldn't get attention. She had spent her life in the shadows. No one ever looked at her. It was perfect because no one would stop to think twice about her death.

My hand clenched into a fist.

Helga, such a vile and ugly thing. She was violent and horrible and pathetic. She could disappear and no one would blink. Not even Arnold—

I tore the blade from my palm.

Electric shockwaves shot through my body and then caught fire. It was merciless and without escape. It shot all the way up to my shoulder, down to my knees. It had my mind reeling and backed into a corner until everything felt like it was getting turned onto its side. I rolled into a tighter ball to cope, holding my wounded hand to my chest. I couldn't bare to look at it. I wished that the world—that I—would end rather than endure these endless currents, but waves continued to crash onto me.

And with those waves, came the realisation. Came the understanding. This was how it was supposed to be; this was always how it was supposed to be.

I was Helga Pataki and nothing could change that.

Nothing would change that.

I thought Blue Jay was my freedom. I thought she was my escape. That I could outrun Helga's fate. But the reality hit me like wine. The noose I had been trying to insist was a necklace. Good never came to the wicked. I was supposed to endure this so no one else would. It had never been my job to stand on the podium, it was my job to become the podium. To lift other people up. To change their fates. While enduring my own. People like Arnold deserved the pedestal, while I belonged to the altar. Some place where I could become the sacrifice that the town made to their Gods. Whose death would bring rain and fortune to the land.

Blue Jay had made me into something that was nothing like myself. That was why everyone looked at me like that. That was why they had treated me like that. Whispered my name like it were an oath. Helga was destined for nothing. But Blue Jay was destined for something.

Blue Jay would change the world.

And die trying.

I wanted to scream.

But I was Blue Jay and she didn't scream. She didn't get to scream. She was the shield, never the victor.

So biting my tongue, I kept the screams at bay. And watched as the world stilled around me. No air stirred the newspaper. No clouds drifted in the sky. Not a sound could be heard.

It was an eerie sort of tranquillity.

And I was okay with it.

I glanced down at my hand.

I was okay with all of it.

Arnold waited.

He wasn't exactly what for. No promises had been made to him. No declarations, no vows that she would be back. Hell, not even any recognition that she had recognised the voices screaming her name. She had just left, and he had stayed there.

And waited and waited and waited.

Time stretched until his friends had left, until the space became empty rather than filled. He didn't move. He had thought that he was totally alone until Gerald had sat beside him. His chest warmed. He often teased his friend, but Gerald had always been the most loyal person that Arnold knew. He was like a shadow that never left. He never let you feel like you were alone.

Micah stirred beside him.

Arnold knew he had to leave.

Face the inevitable thunder that was his grandmother. Blue Jay had been right. He had fucked up. And he needed to accept his punishment for that.

But Blue Jay . . .

Arnold wasn't sure why he hung back like he had. It was obvious that she wasn't going to turn up. She had disappeared and so should he. But something twisted in his chest when he thought about that. Because what if she came back? He wanted to see her again. She was a colour he had never experienced before. A sound he wanted to keep hearing. She had a tall and electrifying presence that stung the air and everything around him. She was beautiful and dazzling and . . .

And her eyes . . .

He couldn't shake them from his mind. They had been carved into his head, something he couldn't wash away from his memories. When she looked at you, it felt like shooting stars had you pinned to the spot. Electricity shot through you, but it didn't hurt. It excited you. It excited him.

They stirred something in him. He didn't know what. He wanted to chase after her to find out what.

He knew that he wasn't different from anyone else. Everyone stared at her in awe. Of course they did, she was magnificent. Her presence enticed enchantment and beckoned everyone towards her. He couldn't get that image out of his head when she had been walking towards them. It had felt like a scene from a movie that had been caught in slow motion. Light had rolled down her back and fanned out beneath her neck and shoulders like she was an angel. The wind had whipped her hair around her face, making it dance beneath her chin and over her chest. Her hair was a cascade of golden curls but when the light caught it, her strands were turned into gilded ringlets. She had looked like a goddess.

But then, she had looked at him and he felt like he had been struck with lightning.

Because her eyes—they were beautiful, but . . . there was something about them. Something that made him feel like he was taking part in a scene he had already experienced. That her presence, as beautiful and hazy as it made things, it wasn't as foreign to him as it had felt before.

But why? What was making him feel like this?

Arnold startled when Gerald clapped a hand onto his shoulder.

"Think she's gone, champ," he said with an easy grin. Or, one that looked easy. Arnold knew Gerald and had heard how he spoke about himself to Blue Jay. He felt as guilty as Arnold did.

Knowing that made something twist in Arnold's chest. He didn't like knowing that, how guilty Gerald felt. But he knew trying to confront him about it, that would just start an argument between them. And an argument was the last thing they needed tonight.

So, Arnold nodded then turned to Micah.

"You ready, Micah?"

But the child wasn't even looking at him.

He was watching that alleyway that Blue Jay had dashed into. His lips were twisted, hands in tiny little fists by his side. It was obvious that Micah had been hoping that Blue Jay would come back just as much as Arnold had. Maybe even moreso. It made Arnold wonder, what had happened while he had been with Blue Jay? They seemed quite attached to each other. Had anything been said?

Arnold shook his face. It didn't matter now.

"Alright, let's go," he announced, standing to his feet.

Gerald smiled, joining him, and both boys waited for Micah.

The kid scrunched his mouth to the side before following their actions. He placed his hand into Arnold's, but his eyes never left that alleyway, even as they exited the park.

Arnold couldn't blame him. Blue Jay was . . .

Her eyes popped into his head before he could even finish that thought. He wanted to shake his head. God, why would that feeling not leave him? Why did it feel like a part of him recognised Blue Jay?

He pressed his teeth together.

Who were you, Blue Jay?

Darkness caved in and suffocated me. Clung to every inch of my clammy skin. The world was etched in charcoal, my feet bare. The wind was icy. I shivered. Where was I?

I felt like my eyes had been gouged out. My body washed cold. Had they? I brought a hand to where they should be—they were still there.

I breathed. But where was I?

Two eyes appeared, glowing like miniature suns. They seemed familiar, but I couldn't recognise them. Beneath the suns, appeared a grin that showed every sharp tooth. Neither moved, the eyeballs, nor the stretched lips.

I stared. Serec—

There was a gleam as a blade whipped out, clutched in a pair of white hands. I was frozen, muscles locked in place, as the knife moved closer and closer. The blade aligned between my brows.

I shut my eyes, awaiting the pain—

"—so unfair, man!"

My eyes snapped open.

And confusion blossomed. Light invaded my vision. I couldn't see anything past it. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and adjusted to the sun's rays. The light retreated until it had sunk into familiar–looking shapes . . .

Ah.

I knew where I stood.

I was outside Arnold's house, waiting for the bus.

I paused. Had I fallen asleep again?

As I rubbed my temples, something fuzzy brushed against my face. Right. The gloves. I was wearing my grey fingerless gloves because I didn't want anyone seeing the bandages. I often wore gloves during winter. It was hot and sunny outside, but I wasn't worried about anyone confronting me about them. Who would care?

I could barely remember getting home. Not that I was desperate to reclaim much from last night. But I remember tending to my wounds and then going to bed. Easier said than done, of course. I had a hole in my hand and my knuckles had been smashed. But the adrenaline had vanished, and exhaustion had acted like a drug so when my head hit the pillow, I was out.

Nel hadn't even been sure how long it would take for my injuries to heal. So I had kept my hopes pressed low when waking up this morning. The knuckles were still sore, it hurt to move them. But they weren't shattered and when she had looked them over, Nel had concluded that it would take maybe two more nights for them to heal completely. I didn't know if I could bare two more nights of this, but it was better than if I didn't have my powers.

The stab wound though . . .

I didn't know how long that would take. Perhaps a few more nights. Which I'm sure, was going to mean that the rest of the week was packed with so much fun and excitement.

Voices began surfacing like they were rising from water.

". . . you really blame her, Gerald?" That was Arnold. I could recognise him from anywhere. "I mean, it was because of us that Micah almost . . ."

There was a strained pause.

"But Arnold—"

"No buts, Gerald," Arnold interrupted. I rose my brows at his anger. "It was because of us that she almost lost her grandson."

Oh.

My heart dropped.

I knew what it was they were talking about.

"So, uh," Gerald cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "What happened . . . after she, erm, fired you?"

Fired him.

I dropped my gaze to my shoes.

"What do you, uhh, mean?"

"I mean," Gerald opened his arms. "Like, what happened to the kid? Is she gonna hire a new sitter or something?"

"I dunno, Gerald," Arnold sighed. "She told me I should leave, so I left. I don't know what happened. She didn't want to discuss anything with me."

Despite myself, I felt guilty hearing this. I didn't regret what I had said to Arnold, it had been stupid. And it had endangered Micah along with himself and his friends. But . . . was it right, how everything unfolded? I was supposed to shield everyone, protect them from harm. Maybe I should have gone with him, explained the situation to Micah's grandmother. Taken the blame for them. Because that was my job: to be the shield.

I was the shield, never the victor.

I should start acting like it.

"That really sucks, man," Gerald said. I could hear him patting his friend on the shoulder.

"Yeah."

"It was my fault," Gerald admitted, voice dipping low. "I was the one who called you."

Shield, but never the victor.

I had failed.

"It's not, Gerald," Arnold said. "It's mine. I agreed to it. You weren't the babysitter. I was."

"But I—"

"And anyway, Micah is okay at least. And so are we, for that matter."

He wanted the conversation to end. He didn't want people feeling sorry for him. He didn't like bringing people down for his own sake. He just wanted them to remain happy. I couldn't believe that I had thought that I could be like him. I was never going to be him. Arnold was destined to become a fairy tale. I would always remain a bad ending. Arnold would walk a path of light, while I lingered beneath that path, holding it together like I was Atlas. My knees were destined to bleed as I held everything together for everyone. I was the shield, never the victor. And while he was destined for the light; I was destined for the shadows.

We were polar opposites.

At least I was no longer fooling myself.

There was a pause and I knew it was coming from Gerald. He was torn between respecting his friend's privacy to let the subject drop or insisting that Arnold share the burden.

Ultimately, he decided to honour Arnold's unspoken wishes.

"Yeah," I could hear his slow and steady smile. "Guess we are."

And just in time because the school bus pulled up in front of us.

The door shuttered open and for a moment, my eyes locked with Arnold's.

My heart stopped.

His eyes held mine in a firm, but gentle grasp. It surprised me. I hadn't even realised that he had noticed me. I hadn't been standing far from them, but I kept my hoodie on with my earbuds pressed in. I wasn't listening to any music, but I was in a stance that made it easy to glance over me. To drift away from people's notice until I was invisible.

But here he was, noticing me.

The words became stuck in my throat. He looked at me like everything was simple, like everything could be pleasant. His smile had seemed forced before but in that second, it stretched to become real. It made something rattle in my chest. He rose his eyebrows and gestured for me to go first.

Of course, he was being kind. He was being Arnold.

The Arnold that made everything crash and collapse into dust. The Arnold who was a chemical that hit me so hard that it had the world twisting and heaving around me. The Arnold that had sunshine in his eyes. The boy who meant everything to me and yet, nothing at all.

Blushing, I looked down to my shoes and hid my face behind my hair.

I could feel his confusion, but before he could say anything, Gerald had already went ahead to enter the bus.

Seconds ticked before he followed after his friend.

I sighed, like I had lost a weight. Then, stepped onto the bus and—

"Micah!"

I froze. Micah?

"Micah, come back this instant!"

I looked up in the direction of the calls and felt my mouth drop.

Running down the sidewalk was a familiar face.

My heart swelled as he moved vigorously, like a little ball of sunshine. His curls consumed his face. But his smile beamed, lighting up even the darkest of corners. The smile he wore had been the largest I'd seen on him. I found myself smiling with him. But where was he going? I looked over my shoulder. Nothing seemed exciting enough to invoke such a reaction. Maybe he was visiting a friend—

"Lady."

Turning around, I found that the kid was stood at my feet. He was smiling, still. Even though he was looking at me. He tugged on my pants and gestured that I bend down. I was so stunned that I didn't even think about it. I lowered myself to my knees, crouching on the balls of my feet. His smile was so bright and as we stood face–to–face, I thought I would go blind from it.

I could feel stares boring into me from the bus. Dumbfounded. Murmurs rippled as they questioned why such a cute kid would want to talk to me.

Micah pressed something into my hand.

I looked down—it was a folded piece of paper.

Narrowing my eyes, I opened and examined it. It was a crayon drawing depicting a little boy standing next to two other boys. They were watching a woman as she battled a big, terrifying monster. She took up most of the page, dressed in white with long, flowing hair.

It was him with Blue Jay.

His smile suddenly got shy. "I–It's . . ."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Blue Jay."

It was an innocent drawing—a child depicting someone he admired. His way of coping. But, to me, it spoke volumes of unspoken words—ones that both comforted and pained me.

He ducked his gaze to the ground, cheeks red.

"Yeah," he nodded then fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "Would you give it to her, please?"

And when he lifted his gaze to mine, I knew. I knew that this tiny six–year–old had figured it out.

He knew that I was Blue Jay.

"Micah!"

A dishevelled–looking woman, dressed in a long shirt and jeans, suddenly appeared. She had big, bouncy curls in colours of wheat, and small, elegant hands. Her face was aged with lines, but you could tell how beautiful she was.

From the bus, I heard someone hiss, "Shit!" And when I looked, it was just in time to catch a flash of blonde hair and darker curls ducking beneath the bus window.

And then, everything made sense.

Turning back to the woman, I found that she was already looking at me. She had slowed her jog into a walk as she sheepishly sent me a smile.

"Sorry, dear," she apologised in a light voice. "He saw you and was gone. Micah, honey, c'mere, you're not supposed to talk to strangers."

This must have been Micah's grandmother.

Micah pouted, puffing out his red cheeks.

And suddenly, for whatever reason, Micah knowing my identity didn't bother me. I wasn't sure why but something about him lessened my worries. I looked at him and it brought back that feeling from yesterday. That golden feeling. Like I had spent so much of my life, handcuffed to the shadows, but now, the sun was breaking free and washing me in its heat. It didn't make sense. I just knew that when Micah moved, it tugged at my heartstrings and made me want to smile.

I found myself laughing.

A real, god forsaken laugh. The joyful feeling was bubbling and made me feel like a weight had left my chest.

I could practically hear everyone's shock as I laughed carelessly. I didn't blame them, I wasn't known for laughing at anything other than at someone else's expense.

So, when I turned back to his grandmother, I gave her an acknowledging nod.

"It's alright," I told her with a grin. "He was just showing me his wonderful drawing, right Micah?"

I sent him a look, silently asking if my secret was safe.

A smile spread across his face. "Yeah!"

"And you know what, Micah?"

His eyes were twinkling. "What?"

"She's going to love it," I told him.

He was quiet for a moment, staring at me as the meaning behind my words sunk in. Then, pursing his lips, he ducked his face and ran into my arms. I was taken back, as was his grandmother and—hell, the entire bus. I think I could hear someone collapsing in shock.

Mind racing, my heart felt swollen as I wrapped my arms around him. I placed my chin on his head, breathing in slowly as my muscles lost their tension.

It was confusing. A hug was a simple and normal gesture. But I had received so little that, even from a child, it was enough to make everything seem brighter.

His grandmother smiled and mouthed, "Thank you."

Smiling back, I mouthed, "You're welcome."

But then, a rambunctious sound jarred me from my peaceful state as Pete slammed his hand down on the wheel.

We both jumped apart and, growling, I yelled, "Oh, I am coming!"

Micah's grandmother laughed.

Turning back to Micah, I smiled warmly.

"Gotta go, kiddo," I said and bumped his chin with the tops of my knuckles.

He giggled and lightly battered away my hand.

Shoving the paper into my pocket, I gave Micah a wink then climbed to my feet.

Dusting off the dust from pants, I gave a small wave, "Seeya kid."

He giggled.

Climbing the steps, I shot Pete a nasty look then threw myself into the first free seat available. People were still watching me. I realised that, at some point when Micah had been hugging me, the hoddie had fallen from my head.

I growled, then pushed it back up.

The doors slammed shut and the bus resumed down the street. I imagined that we'd lost time in our schedule, but Pete was a dick so I didn't care.

Eventually, everyone turned to resume their conversations and the chatter rose until it had filled the bus. I released a breath I hadn't been aware that I'd been keeping and slumped back into my chair.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the paper. But unfolding it, something caught my eyes. On the other side was a message written in ink.

To Blue Jay,

Thank you for saving me yesterday! It was really cool! You're just like the heroes I read about in comics. You're just like Wonder Woman! I can't wait to tell everyone at school! And thank you for saving Arnold and everyone!

I have to go to bed but just know that you're really cool

Love, Micah xxx

p.s. I think Arnold's friends all like–like you!

I read the words in a stunned silence. I suddenly had forgotten how to breathe, how to speak, as a new realisation hit me.

I knew this writing—

Looking up, I met a pair of panicked, green eyes.

—it was Arnold's.

Chapter Text

It was storming that night, which should have left me in a better mood.

I had always liked thunderstorms. Preferred them to sunny and cloudless skies. And, contrary to popular belief, it wasn't because I was all doom and gloom. I actually found them extremely soothing. The rain was a soft clapping noise that gushed down the roof in sheets. It was a relieving sound that was easy to fall asleep to. It didn't matter what had happened during the day—another fight with Bob; Phoebe ditching me for her science clubs; the teachers berating me all day; Arnold making goo–goo eyes at Little Miss Perfect while completely ignoring me.

None of that mattered because when the storms gathered to cover the skies, I was always soothed into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Except for right now.

Time was trickling at its annoyingly slow pace which made it difficult to tell what hour it was. But something was echoing from the sides of my head. I was sure that it was my pulse although I didn't know why it would still be racing like that. There was a shaking in my bones that I tried pretending wasn't there by crossing my arms over my chest. But the paranoia raked down my spine in trembles. I couldn't sleep. I wanted to, but I couldn't. It was dark but my mind was bright. My brain was filled with possibilities—terrifying possibilities. Instead of dreams rested a motionless silhouette. Hands moving closer for my face until I forced myself to turn onto my side away from them.

The pulse spiked in my throat so hard that it became difficult to swallow. I looked at the clock on my nightstand and groaned. It was three in the morning and I had school today.

And I was still wide awake.

I could feel Nel's breath against my ankle and felt a twinge of jealousy. How was it she was able to fall asleep so easy when I was the one going to school the next day?

I shook my face and slammed my eyes shut. Determined to get a wink of—

Two obsidian eyes were staring back.

And my eyes flew wide.

My heart was hurtling in my throat, so hard that I wanted to vomit. I whipped my face around the room in search of those eyes. I wasn't sure whether I felt relief or disappointment when I didn't find anything.

I groaned and fell back onto my pillows.

Jesus Christ—swinging my arm over my face, I squeezed my eyes shut. But I could practically hear the seconds as they ticked which made my blood boil beneath my skin. I became aware that there was a moistness soaking behind my ears—sweat. Gritting my teeth, I rolled back over and forced myself to breathe evenly through my nose. I tried resting there, but the uncomfortable churning in my stomach pushed me to roll over so my face was squished into the pillows.

More seconds passed.

I pulled the pillow over my eyes. My subconscious assembled images that I had been avoiding. Irritation burned in my chest and I moved the pillow from my face, rubbing my eyes—the lack of sleep was taking a toll on me. Bags were getting heavier beneath my eyes. But I knew that sleep wasn't a likely option.

Sitting up, I flicked the lamp on.

My head spun when the bright glare assaulted my vision. I blinked a couple of times then checked on Nel, who slept like nothing had happened. Pinching my nose, I pressed my forehead into my knee. If I wasn't getting any sleep, what was I supposed to do?

I realised that I was trembling and decided that I could use some air.

Grabbing a pair of shorts from the floor, I shimmied them over my boy shorts and shrugged on a much too large grey shirt. Pulling on my hoodie and tying up my trainers, I crossed the room and had the door handle in my grasp when I heard a familiar voice.

"I told you, Nick, I—no, are we really doing this now?"

I paused. It was Olga.

And she sounded angry.

"Listen—I needed the space, alright? From you, I—" she stopped and I assumed that this Nick had interrupted her.

I pushed back the small piece of curiosity with a shake of my head. She was awake which meant there was no way that I was sneaking out. Not without her sticking her nose into my business and prying for answers. Her voice sounded clear which meant that the door was open which eliminated the possibility of tiptoeing past without her noticing.

I huffed then marched for my vanity where I leaned over the table to glare into my reflection's eyes. I needed to get out of here. But Olga demanding questions wouldn't go unnoticed by Bob or Miriam. And though I didn't expect for them to care, I knew that the questioning would just add an unnecessary stress that I needed to avoid. I needed a thorough and fool–proof explanation with zero holes.

My stomach lurched as it felt like the walls were closing in. I wanted to tear them apart until I could feel the rain battering down on my skin.

My eyes landed on the window in my reflection.

And before I knew it, I'd zipped across the room and had the frame in my hands. Sliding it open was agonisingly slow but I didn't want to chance waking Nel up. I'd rather a nosey Olga then Nel—Olga wouldn't give me an hour long lecture at least. I bit down on my tongue when the window let out a screech and glanced over my shoulder. Nel's tail flicked, but she rolled over and her heavy breathing continued.

Breathing a sigh, I pushed the window up as far as it would go. The wind immediately scattered across my face and sent shivers down my spine. The city was a wet wall of black—nothing but a few foggy specks of light could be seen.

The wind immediately scattered across my face, pushing my hair down my shoulders and sending shivers down my spine.

It wasn't the ideal weather for a walk. But I didn't care, I needed to get out of here.

I pocketed my phone and gripping the frame, thrusted myself out the window.

The rain was bullets beating on my skin and soaking my hoodie. The wind was unmerciful and whipped harshly as the sky rumbled.

Clasping the frame, I sucked in a breath then kicked off from the sill, gripping the gaps between the bricks. My heart hurtled; I was tempted to transform but I had left my pin beneath my pillow.

It was too late to get it, I decided with a shake of my head.

The bricks were slippery, but my grip was resistant. Blue Jay's strength pumped through my veins. Holding my breath, I began my conquest up the wall, pushing upwards and gripping higher. I followed with my feet and made some progress but didn't allow myself to rush. Rushing would increase the chances of slipping and falling.

I had to take my time.

My hoodie was drenched as rain slid down my skin. The wind knocked back the hood, exposing my face to the icy water. A shock of white forked the black sky as a thunderous boom filled the air. My hands and legs were throbbing, but I didn't stop—I'd already passed the halfway mark.

The corners of my mouth stretched, but not in a grimace.

I could do this.

For a moment, I imagined everyone's face like they were standing below me. The disbelief on Gerald's face, Lila's envy, Phoebe's pride and the admiration that would glow in Arnold's eyes.

My footing slipped.

A scream caught in my throat as I dropped. But an instinctive spark had my fingers keeping me in place. My knuckles cramped as my grip became stone–like, but I continued to drag my body up further.

I wasn't falling. Not when I had gotten this far.

Grunting, I pushed again. Rain was sliding down my temples. Heat soaked beneath my pits. I couldn't leap for the top—it looked close, but I couldn't risk losing my grip. I had to climb at a steady pace.

Another jagged bolt filled the sky. Pressing my palms flat on the roof, I pushed up on my arms and, swivelling my hips, thrust my body upwards and—

Criminy.

—found myself standing on the Pataki roof.

Holy shit.

I didn't realise how loud that I'd been breathing until then. My limbs were shaking and my feet throbbing, but I was astonished. Utterly astonished that I didn't register that discomfort.

Not until I collapsed to my knees.

But I was so content that I didn't care. Laughing, I shot out my fists in victorious punches to the sky as I fell onto my back. Puddles soaked into my clothes and I shivered but I couldn't stop smiling toward the flashing sky. I felt electrified, like I was hooked to the weather. I pushed my hair back and allowed the rain to wash away my exhaustion.

I couldn't begin to describe what I felt. Too much adrenaline rushed through me and I couldn't sit still. I was on my feet before I had even registered it. Climbing from my window suddenly seemed a cinch as I advanced towards the roof's edge. I peered at the distance from my feet to the ground.

Criminy.

I then glanced from my toes to the neighbouring roof. Ordinarily, I wouldn't call the span large—perhaps generous but nothing bigger. However ordinarily, I'd be on the ground.

I swallowed. It wasn't a big deal, I just had to jump. The distance couldn't be more than a few feet wide although the fall was much larger. And let's face it, I may have Blue Jay's agility but I would always be Helga.

Stop, a voice in the back of my head commanded. Holy cow, just stop there, Helga.

Stop what?

Overthinking. That's all you seem to do—putting too much thought into things. You're Blue Jay for cripes sake! You can skip two centimetres onto the next roof!

But what if I—

You won't.

I shut my mouth, swallowing loudly.

That voice—whatever it was—was right. I'd done far worse than this, even as just Helga.

The wind howled stronger.

I swallowed again and backed up a couple of steps. Jumping from the edge wouldn't give me the momentum I needed. I stopped when I'd crossed more than half the space. I purposely looked ahead of the empty space, gluing my gaze to the neighbour's roof.

I could do this.

I drew in a deep breath—

. . . basking in the silence . . .

—and ran.

Crossing the space that I'd crossed, I leapt into the air as my toes left the roof's edge. My heart was flying as a tingling filled my limbs. The world around me turned not a dark, rainy blur.

A half of a second had barely passed when I found myself landing on my toes—

My eyes widened—oh, shit!

Remaining forces tipped my body forward and sent me reeling. My shoulder took the brunt of the impact as instinctively my body curled into a ball as I kept rolling. I landed in a messy state of limbs and hair as my chest heaved from spluttery coughs.

The sky rumbled.

My clothes clung so close that you could probably see my heart threatening to pump through the fabric. My hair had stuck together in wet clumps as I sucked in shallow breaths like I'd run a marathon. My muscles had frozen but an odd tingling took over and slowly, I pushed myself up from the ground and looked over my shoulder.

I'd made it. The corners of my mouth lifted. More than halfway—I'd made it.

I glanced at the next roof over when an idea hit me.

Seconds passed when I found myself leaping onto the next roof. The giddiness filled me again as my heart hammered like a hummingbird. My palms were wet as a gigantic grin stretched across my face.

It was exhilarating.

My landing was more graceful this time and I found myself back on two feet. I went to jump again when another idea hit me. I pulled my phone out from my pocket—which was thankfully undamaged from the fall—and scrolled until I had selected a particular song. I buried the device back into my pocket and popped in my earphones.

Shut my eyes.

A lively tempo filled my ears that elevated my spirit. The sounds travelled down my throat to rattle in my chest that made it impossible not to smile. Throwing back my head, I exhaled as water slid down my face.

So you come a long way
But you'll never have me

I hadn't realised that I had begun walking until I opened my eyes again. The skies were dark but sunshine was shining from my chest. It built in my spine and crept beneath my skin and before I knew it, I was dancing. My steps had a bounce to them as I rolled my wrists and snapped my fingers in time with the beat. Hair slapped against my shoulder blades. Throwing back my head, I laughed.

I didn't know why but I felt so free.

Never have things for a normal life

It might've been because, for once, it was just me. There was no crowd, no reporters, no Mutants, no Serec and no Nel—just me. I could finally enjoy my abilities for myself.

It's time to busy earnin'
You can't get enough

My heart kept in time with the beat, pumping the music through my veins as I lost myself in the movements. Then, I sent my body leaping into the air—

This busy earnin'
You can't get enough

—landing firmly on the balls of my feet.

You think that all your time is used
To busy learnin'
You can't get enough

Like the notes, I was soaring. I was unshackled, untied . . . liberated.

And I get always
But I bet it won't change, no

The cold air rushed past me as I landed on my toes. The notes swirling in my head made the leap feel almost too easy.

Damn, that's a boring life
It's quite busy earnin'
You can't get enough

A raw power thrived in my muscles. Ascending in a magical flight, I managed to elaborately twist my body in the air, kicking out my leg and letting it direct my landing. My movements were like silk, flowing like a waterfall, as if I'd practised for months.

This busy earnin'

I was back on my toes, my hair falling over my shoulders in wet, golden streams. My arms were held up in the air in a V stance—like I were on stage.

You can't get enough

The voices, the beats—they were my applause. I laughed again through chapped lips. I felt infallible—limitless.

You think that all your time is used
To busy earnin'

Leaping from roof to roof, I felt invisible. Not in the sense that nobody cared, but in the sense that I couldn't care. My movements, my decisions—they were up to me.

You can't get enou–

Until they no longer were.

My eyes popped open.

Just busy earnin'

I was falling.

Time became distorted. Everything slowed until nothing existed. I looked to the sky that swallowed me whole and reached out a hand. It was a blur, one that swirled in an endless abyss of black as the world rushed by. I squeezed my eyes shut and wrapped my arms around my shoulders, bracing myself for the impact.

Fortunately, it wasn't with the cold, cemented ground. Unfortunately, instead it was three silver trashcans.

The impact slammed into me and left my bones rattling in my skin. It left a burning singeing my muscles as bruises bloomed like flowers. It was my shoulder that hurt the most—a throbbing that was deep and warm, like someone was repeatedly bashing me with boxing gloves.

But thankfully, despite the pain, I didn't suffer anything else. I moved my wrists, tested my joints, and realised that aside from the shoulder, it was mostly bruised. I chalked it up to Blue Jay's abilities. Not for the first time, was I grateful that she was so powerful. Had it not been for her, I would be crawling away from this with broken ribs, cracked legs and a lack of teeth.

Plop!

Something landed on my scalp.

I blinked and pulled the item from my head.

And growled.

It was a banana skin. A sloppy and dark banana skin that had obviously been out here, laying in the trash, for a while.

Chucking the thing away, I limped away from the trashcans. My bones ached and jangled like chains. But honestly, the pain was nothing compared to the ickiness. I ran my hand through my hair and tried to extract any of the banana's gross remains. I could feel the gunk beneath my fingernails and groaned, deciding that I needed the longest shower when I got home. Hopefully Nel was still out. I didn't need her screeching waking the entire family up when I leapt through the window.

Grumbling, I shoved my earphones into my pocket and looked around. I was standing in an alleyway where the buildings stood tight together and loomed over me. The roofs from either side were close enough to one another that rain trickled down the stone walls to flood the floor like a shallow lake.

Small pellets of rain hit my face. I yanked my hoodie up—although the stupid thing was drenched at this point—and shoved my fists into my pockets.

Great, I'd have to walk home in this rain.

I contemplated using Blue Jay's abilities to kick myself up from wall to wall, but an illuminated window from above caught my attention. For a moment, I panicked and worried that the person who lived behind that glass had seen the teenager falling from the roof only to then pick herself up as if she had made a small tumble. Then I noticed the shut curtains and let out a relieved breath. If someone had seen something, they'd have checked the commotion rather than watch from far away where their silhouette wouldn't show up.

They must have fallen asleep with the light on.

Still . . . I squinted. Now that I was thinking on it, this place did ring a little familiar—

Crash!

I jumped and whipped around, clutching my heart.

But there was no figure standing at the back of the alleyway. I narrowed my eyes at the—nothing. Absolutely nothing. Weird. I scanned for any unusual shapes and sudden movements but could only spot the trash cans and wet walls.

Okaaaaay, then. Maybe it was time that I began heading back.

I turned to speedily leave this creepy place. In fact, not only was it creepy, it was also eerily quiet, dark, stinky and—

CRASH!

I suddenly heard feral growling behind me and didn't waste my time running down the alleyway. Panic clouded my mind as footsteps followed close behind. My breath turned shallow as the world around me spun. I reached into my pocket for my pin when a cold realisation hit me—I had left it at home.

I bit down on my tongue.

Shit.

I could smell the blood dripping from its fangs. Hear it baring its teeth, barking my name savagely. I broke out from the alleyway and ran down the main road, where no cars drove down. My fingers were white-knuckled as I swung around my fists; my steps shakier and shakier as the urgency sank in.

I was alone.

Curses unravelled from my tongue as I imagined teeth grazing my ankles. Something ran down my face as I fought to pick up my pace. I threw my hand to the ground when I lost my balance and forced myself back to my feet.

It was dark. The remnants of my nightmares clung to my mind—his eyes. That grin. I had to get out of—I couldn't—no, not anymore—

My leg slipped when I rounded a corner.

The cold air pierced my lungs when my elbow smashed into the concrete. My bones rattled, my ears ringing. Adrenaline demanded I run but my head was spinning. My breath was shaking.

My fists closed around a stone and I spun—

No one was there.

I looked in another direction but couldn't see any movements. I couldn't hear that barbaric panting. Couldn't taste its sadistic pleasure or spilt blood. None other than my own.

I dropped the stone.

My cheeks were wet, and my body covered in sweat. Blood dripped from my elbow and I grasped onto my injury. What had just happened?

Lightning illuminated the area. Horror dug into my chest as it revealed that I'd been entirely alone. Gravel dug into my legs and the wind swept my hair up like a flag. Shadows soaked up the illumination, leaving me beneath a sky full of bright static. I hadn't heard any scream—there were no signs of any Mutants.

I'd been scared.

Blood soaked my fingers in a sticky mess. The sky continued to rumble, but I barely heard it over my pulse.

It'd been twenty–four hours since Serec discovered I had no powers.

I looked up to the sky; the rain poured down and soaked my face, washing away the blood.

Where was he?

Wha—shit.

I barely had time to scramble the books that had escaped back into my bag before I was yanking the door open. The door almost smashed into my face before I skidded backwards to avoid the knock, then bolted down the hallway without hearing it shut. The sounds of my shoes bounced from the walls as a pounding echoed from the sides of my face.

The entire time, I was thinking—fuck, you idiot, Helga Pataki.

I hadn't noticed how easily the time had been slipping. It had been a simple plan—one that I had thoroughly thought over and decided the pros outweighed the cons. I had P.E. today and, if you remember, I had sworn that I would never be stepping into that gym again. Could you blame me? Ainsley was weird. I wasn't normally one to skip class, but she was weird and I never really cared for the lessons anyway. Not to mention that I had gotten less than two hours of sleep. Skipping that class to catch up on some shut eye in a broom closet was worth whatever consequences came with it.

Criminy, was I a moron.

A familiar door with duct-taped posters suddenly popped into my vision. My heart leapt with relief and horror. Relief because I had made it quicker than I thought I would, but horror because, well, it was closed. As in, everyone–who–needed–to–be–inside–is–already–inside closed.

I would have to sneak in.

Digging my heels into the ground, I tried skidding to a halt while reaching forward to grasp the handle—

Slam!

—and promptly flew straight into the door.

I found myself staring up at the roof with the ground beneath my back. What . . . the fu—

The door burst open and there was a loud gasp.

"¿Oh, Helga? ¡ ¿Qué estás haciendo?!" I was yanked to my feet by large hands which then proceeded to dust my shoulders. Behind her glasses, Belmonte's eyes were intense enough to make Mutants wet their pants . . . provided they actually wore pants. "Por Dios, mi niña, ¿estás bien? ¡ Jesús, esta chica! Eso fue un golpe sólido, tal vez deberías ser llevado a la enfermería, por si acaso. No quiero que tengas una conmoción cerebral-¡ no en mi reloj! Ya era bastante malo cuando ese chico tuvo ese ataque durante la clase cuando yo estaba ocupado, ¡ no puedo tener otro estudiante yendo al hospital bajo mi guardia! ¡ Estás bien, mi niña! ¡ Háblame, háblame!"

She looked at me like she expected me to say something to that.

Instead, I just stared at her.

". . . umm, Sí?"

She scowled.

"You're late," she said in a flat voice. "Why?"

Mentally, I rolled my eyes. There was the famous stick–in–the–mud Belmonte that I was used to. Not that I could be honest with her or anything. What was I supposed to say? 'Sorry Belmonte, I would've made it to class in time, but I had to ditch my P.E. lesson to sleep in a broom closet with my bag as a pillow. Why? Because I'm a teenage superhero, that's why! And there's this crazy guy with ice powers now aware that I no longer have my own powers, so the past few hours have been a ticking time bomb, waiting for when he'll finally go ahead and kill me rather than keeping me in suspense. Did we have any homework?'

Instead, I shrugged.

"Got held up," I lied smoothly as I slid past her. I scanned the room for my usual partner before spotting the familiar set of smiling white teeth from across the room. I grinned and headed for the window to take the spare seat next to her.

Nadine gave me a small nod when I sat down, but neither of us spoke until Belmonte had continued her teaching, getting lost in one of her tediously long lectures.

Keeping my eyes ahead, I whispered from the corner of my mouth, "Miss anything?"

Nadine peeked at me from the corner of her vision. "Nah, dude, just another one of Monte's tangents again."

Nadine was one of those people you couldn't help taking notice of. She had warm dark skin with bright blonde hair, tied back in tiny, elaborate braids. She said they were cornrows and normally wore them in a high ponytail that ran down her back.

The school uniform demanded conformity, but she had found small ways to make herself stand out: the small social justice pins she would keep on her collar. The purple glasses she kept perched on her nose rather than the standard black. You would think that the glass would prevent you from seeing her makeup, but her makeup was so sharp that it somehow made it through the lens. Her eyes were done up in thick rings of black and topped with sharp wings at the corner. It was the type of look that made you think of Egyptian women in movies. She still totally looked like a nerd, but a seriously cool nerd. You couldn't help but respect her.

Nadine glanced at me. She had her blazer hanging from her chair and her shirt sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

She crossed her arms over her chest, lifting her leg on top of the other, and leaned back in her seat to give me a look. It was a silent question, asking why I had been so late. But she didn't verbally press me for an answer.

It was another reason why I liked Nadine: she respected my privacy. She didn't feel the need to butt into my life for answers. But I guess it was because of that I barely knew much about her.

I returned her look, resting my temple against my fist, and quirked the corners of my mouth into a cheeky grin. I could feel my hair tickling my forearm as sunlight climbed to sink into my face from the window.

When she realised that she wasn't going to get an answer, she nodded her head to the back of the class. I looked to where she was gesturing and had to bite down on my tongue to conceal my laughter.

"She didn't even realise that Stinky fell asleep," Nadine whispered and adjusted her glasses. As she said that, Stinky's jaw dropped and he finally began snoring. Sid, who sat next to him, grimaced when he saw the drool hanging from the corner of Stinky's lips and began to inch away from him.

Nadine and I exchanged looks, pursing our lips to hold back our amusement. But some chortles managed to escape and we quickly had to clamp our hands over our mouths.

I probably would have lost the battle and begun laughing anyway if I didn't feel eyes boring into my back. The hairs on my neck straightened and looking over my shoulder, I was surprised to meet a pair of familiar brown eyes.

Lila.

She jumped when she realised she had been caught and quickly turned to face the front of the class. I frowned, what was her problem? She had been looking at me . . . in suspicion.

But as soon as the thought appeared, I dismissed it. Because honestly, who cared? I had bigger problems than Little Miss Perfect.

"—due on Monday."

There was a chorus of groans.

I blinked, turning to the front of the class. What just happened?

Belmonte looked less than impressed with the response.

"Oh, por el amor de Dios," she muttered. She shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's not that bad of an assignment."

I stopped. Assignment?

She attempted to continue. "You even get partners—"

"Do we get to pick our partners?"

Belmonte sent a glare to the student who had interrupted her. The student—a pale redhead with a beanie on—shrank back in mortification.

Belmonte huffed at the interruption but finally admitted, "No."

There were more groans.

Belmonte, finally having enough, grabbed a piece of paper from her desk and waved it like it were a flag.

"I have the pairs written here!" she exclaimed, then under her breath, muttered, "Niños estúpidos."

Nadine turned to me.

"Hopefully," she whispered and played with one of her braids, "We're partners for this one."

I nodded.

Nadine actually enjoyed biology and because of that, she was a total whiz. She wouldn't have too many objections about doing most of the work, which would leave me the time to focus on Blue Jay business.

Clearing her throat, Belmonte began reading out the names.

"Uhh, okay, let's see—Billy, you're with Samuel."

A boy with swept back brown hair turned to grin at the earlier redhead, who groaned.

"Savannah is with Patricia."

Several students released loud and relieved sighs, including Nadine and I. Biker Patty had only gotten taller and scarier over the years and as such, no one wanted to be paired with her. People shot sympathetic looks to the girl who had been listed as Patty's partner—a petite auburn – haired girl with bangs. The girl, Savannah, trembled as she scanned the room for Biker Patty but released a relieved sigh upon realising that the larger girl was absent—again.

"Stinky's with Nadine."

Nadine and I looked at each other in horror. We had never been separated for a project in biology. Our gazes then slid over to the boys at the back; Sid was shaking Stinky's shoulder, trying to rouse his snoring friend.

"Oh," Nadine groaned. "You gotta be fuckin' with me."

Amen.

"Helga—" my eyes went to the front. "—you're with Lila."

There was a bang! as my forehead slammed to connect with the desk. I could feel eyes turning in my direction before swivelling away when they realised what had happened, unaffected.

Even Belmonte continued listing the names.

"Lucy—you're with Rowan."

Vieja bruja.

"I don't get it," Nadine whispered. Forehead still on the table, I rolled my face to the side to look at her. "She's, like, super nice, dude. What's your beef with her?"

I stared at her, appalled. Did she not know how my beloved felt towards her? How that automatically made her my enemy? How, even now, she refused to leave me alone?

I didn't say anything, however. I just stared at her like she had picked a bug from her skull.

Scanning my expression, Nadine crossed her arms with a sigh.

"Geeze, tough crowd," she muttered.

I rolled my eyes.

"Alright," Belmonte dropped her clipboard onto her desk before facing us. "Now that we've gotten that sorted. For this assignment, your partner will also be your seating partner."

The only response she received were more groans.

Unsympathetic, she clapped her hands. "Go on!"

God.

With another roll of my eyes, I stood to my feet and swung my bag onto my shoulder. Nadine watched, eyebrows coming together to communicate her own sorrow at being separated. I sent her a quick look before trudging forward. I squeezed past the other students that needed to trade seats. The sounds of chairs screeching against the floor filled the room, but even louder was the pounding in my ears.

I sat as far away from Lila as I was allowed.

I could feel her grinning but looked ahead to the front of the room.

"Hey," she greeted.

I ignored her.

"Now that we've all gotten cozy with one another," Belmonte pushed her glasses up her nose as she took out another sheet of paper. "For this assignment, you'll be required to work with your partner to produce notes on the frog's anatomy—"

A pale hand suddenly shot up from the back of the class.

"Will we be getting a diagram for this assignment, Mrs. Belmonte?"

"No, Savannah," Belmonte shook her head. The girl, Savannah, was sitting at the back where Patty normally resided. "I know how easy it is for you to google answers these days. Instead, for this assignment, you will be relying on your own notes to do this dissection."

I froze. "Di—what?"

Maybe I hadn't heard that right.

"Dissection," Lila whispered from the corner of her mouth. I made the mistake of turning in her direction and, seeing my confusion, she leaned in closer. "We're dissecting a frog."

It was against my best interest to continue this conversation, but Nel would have a fit if my grades continued slipping.

"When?

Lila's eyebrows drew together.

"The one on Monday?" she said, phrasing it like a question. "Were you even listening, Helga?"

I slammed my forehead into my palm and groaned. Monday. As if I didn't already have enough on my plate.

"And," Savannah continued, scribbling across her palm with a pen, "How long does the report have to be, since it's due the next day?"

"I'm expecting at least a page," Belmonte answered. She shut her eyes when the class groaned again, looking like she was holding herself back from berating them, before continuing. "It should be a formalised presentation of your notes and findings from the dissection."

She placed her hands onto her hips.

"Now, as Savannah said, the report will be due the day after the dissection—online. So, are there any questions?" Everyone exchanged blank looks, but no one voiced any concerns. "Good. I'll let you talk to your partners to plan out your study times."

There was short silence before everyone obeyed, turning to each other, and soon, a murmuring of voices filled the room, growing until it was a normal chatter.

Lila turned to me.

"So, I was thinking we could head to the library this afternoon," she proposed with a polite smile. "The library here stays open until the extracurricular activities end. That gives us a couple of hours. I'm aware it might be a bit late notice, but it might be best if we get a head start on our research."

"Can't."

She paused, surprised. "Um, and why would that be?"

I shrugged and glanced away.

Nadine had moved to the back of the glass to sit with Stinky. She had her teeth clamped together tight like she was close to screaming as she rubbed her temples in frustration. Stinky was chuckling sheepishly, rubbing his neck as he proceeded to say something in his country pumpkin accent.

I rolled my eyes but felt a small grin. Maybe Nadine did have the worser end of the stick.

"Oh," Lila said in a surprised voice. I turned back to her and she forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Um, well, perhaps Saturday?"

No.

It was on the tip of my tongue. It would be so easy to say. I loved saying it to Lila. But this was different; this counted towards our grade. Personally, I didn't give a rat's ass about my own grade, but it wasn't an appealing thought to bring someone else down with me. I really didn't want to see her more than I already had to but, according to Belmonte, we were partners now.

"Okay, fine—whatever."

The look on Lila's expression relaxed as her lips stretched higher. It made something twist in my chest, because of course, she was dazzling. I turned away to place my chin in my palm, scowling at nothing in particular.

Hopefully there wouldn't be any attacks on Saturday.

"So," Lila continued. It made me want to roll my eyes. What else could this girl want? "Whatever were you doing in an alleyway at nearly four in the morning?"

My palm slipped and my chin collided with the desk. The pain lanced from my chin all the way to the back of my jaw. Lila let out a sympathetic hiss and she reached out for my face. I batted her hands away and rubbed the throbbing area.

"What?!"

She blinked at my expression then tilted her head.

"There was a crash outside my window. It woke me so I got out to check it out," she told me. "And you—you looked quite frightened . . . before you ran off."

I could feel my skin burning when she said that. I knew what I'd seen—or rather, what I had thought that I'd seen. But she didn't.

My pulse was boiling in my ears as I tried forming an explanation.

"U–Uh, well, I . . . j–just felt like going for a j–jog—duh!"

Which technically wasn't a lie.

Breathing through my nostrils, I tried a steadier response. "I couldn't sleep."

Lila's eyebrows furrowed and her eyes fell to my hands. Specifically, the bandage around my right palm. My heart dropped. It still hadn't completely healed. It had closed up enough that it no longer was a hole, but still, it occasionally flared when I put too much pressure on it. I had to be especially careful not to instinctively try lifting anything with my right hand, which was fantastic, considering I was right–handed. Writing alone had become a nightmare.

I dropped my hand from the air and slid it beneath the table and out from her sight.

Lila quirked a brow at that before raising her eyes back to mine.

I turned away to glance down at the desk, silently praying for the bell to ring.

"You . . ." she paused, deciding how to force out her response. "You looked quite scared after that crashing."

Looking up, I met her gaze.

I was surprised to find how soft it had become.

"But it had only been a cat that had made the ruckus," she continued.

That caught me by surprise.

"Ex—" I felt numb. "Excuse me?"

She blinked, gaze scattering across my face, before a sly grin rolled across her lips.

"Why, Helga," she said, amused. "It was just a cat."

. . .

. . .

Concern overtook her features and she leaned in to place a hand to my shoulder. "Hel—"

"I can hardly be blamed!" I shouted. It made Lila jump back, hands flying to cover her chest like she was a maiden from the Victorian era. Curious gazes turned in our direction, so I lowered my voice to a whisper. "Hillwood's been attacked three times in the past week. I thought it was one of those mut—those things!"

"But if you're so paranoid about the attacks," Lila tilted her face. "Why would you go out in the morning on your own?"

I paused, the words escaping me.

A silence found us as I stared at her, and she stared back. It made my heart fall silent, like there was a cavity in my chest. Her mouth went to the side as she searched my face for any clue as to what it was that I wasn't telling her. I had to say something. I knew that she didn't believe me. But my lips weren't moving.

And then, my prayers were answered.

The bell sounded.

Swinging my bag up from the floor, I tripped over my shoes as I jumped to my feet. Cheeks burning, I muttered a quick, "Seeya on Saturday," and bolted from the room.

Suspiciously, she narrowed her eyes.

I was greeted with an odd sight when I entered the cafeteria.

The chairs had been moved. Not one table (save for Rhonda's group) held its regular seat. Rhonda and her followers were sat at their usual table in the very middle of the room (I had overheard Rhonda telling her friends that it had the best lightning thanks to the glass roof panels). The princes looked frustrated and stabbed her salad like it were the face of her enemy. Chewing on her food, she glared at Arnold's table, which was crowded with practically the entire school.

Arnold's table was on the far right of the room, beneath the fluorescent lights. I could barely even see through to the table; it was so flocked. Everyone stood so jubilant and eager, their excitement made the air buzz. Infectious grins spread as hands held up recording phones, cameras pointing in the direction of their apparent leader.

I smacked my forehead.

Gerald stood above the crowd, on top of the table. The fluorescence rained down as he held out his hands, his voice booming over the crowd.

"So, then, this big ol' thing shows up and its big. Huge! Right, Arnold?"

I couldn't see him, but I could hear his voice through the crowd, affirming his agreement.

"Bigger than a house!" Gerald continued. His audience ooh'd in response and leaned in. I spotted Rhonda bristling in her anger as she turned to keep stabbing her salad like it had personally offended her.

I made a face. Trust her to be salty now that she wasn't the centre of attention.

I then crossed the room to sit at my usual table, pulling out the sandwich that Olga had made for me. PB&J. I chewed on it and found myself turning in Gerald's direction.

It was like the crowd became aware that I had sat because mystically, as people moved to surround Gerald, it gave enough room for me to find Arnold. He was sat in his chair, his face beet red, and his palm on his forehead. He looked like he would rather be anywhere but here. I tried not to laugh at that.

Gerald, on the other hand, continued addressing the crowd.

"Please, everybody, calm down!" he yelled. "We'll answer all your questions as soon as we finish telling you about our encounter with Blue Jay!"

The sandwich slid from my hands and my mouth dropped, prompting my chewed up food to plop onto the table. Did he just—

"So, then Blue Jay—she's not afraid! She walks up to this thing and punches it! Bam!" He made a wild motion, almost toppling over from how much weight he was thrown around. I pressed my lips together but couldn't hold back the laughter that managed to escape. Arnold looked up at that like his name had been called. I turned my face away so he wouldn't know that I was listening. "And she keeps hitting it! Over and over again until she slays it! Like that!"

I assumed that he made a stabbing motion because the crowd clapped in reaction to it. Hell, someone even whistled. I rose a brow, surprised at how good Gerald was at telling stories.

"And then, she kills it and when it dies, it explodes! But she's not even scared, she just walks away from it like a—like a badass!" I felt my face turning hot at that. He was the centre of attention but somehow, I felt like everyone was watching me. I pulled my hoodie tighter over my face. "And just in time as well, because then this—this dude shows up!" The crowd began voicing their displeasure. "I know! We can't see him, cause he's standing on the roof, but he was totally watching Blue Jay!"

I stilled, suddenly relieving that night. Remembering those eyes that had watched me. They had pressed into me like bullets, pinning me in the night. How depthless they had been, as he stood over me. Taunting me.

I trembled.

"And then he leaves!" Gerald continues. "And Blue Jay—so is she!"

Something in me soured. The air in my chest wilted until I felt swollen with something awful that made the walls spin. I needed to get out of here. I didn't deserve to be here. I got to my feet and headed for the door. No one noticed, but I kept my face down anyway.

I didn't realise that I had begun shaking until I was in the hallway. Something had tightened in my chest. Something that made it hard to breathe. I cleared my throat although it was no use. Every muscle had become tight, ready for action. But I was unable to move.

My hand was shaking, I realised. I pressed my palm into the wall like I was unable to hold myself up. Maybe I couldn't. Were my knees shaking? Something pounded in my chest that made the room stir. I had no powers. Blue Jay had no powers. How could I defend myself like this?

"Helga!"

His voice made me freeze. Beneath it, I could hear footsteps rapidly approaching. Squeezing my eyes shut, I prayed that I was mistaken.

"Are you alright?" Arnold asked, sounding closer as his footsteps came to a halt. I could feel his gaze sliding across my back. I wasn't sure what he was looking for or whether he recognised it. But I sucked in a breath and pushed back my shoulders. He wouldn't find it, whatever it was.

"Yeah," I struggled to keep my voice even. I didn't turn around. "I'm fine."

He was quiet for a moment.

It filled my room with all sorts of thoughts: why was he here? Why wasn't he leaving? Was he just here because it was in his DNA to comfort anyone, even me? Had he seen me leave? Or had he already been heading out and just so happen to notice me now that he was out here in the hallway? A coincidence made more sense than intention ever could.

"You don't seem fine," he said slowly. I could hear the pause in his voice before he stepped closer. I froze. Because no, this wasn't what I wanted. Why was he doing this? "Helga, are you su—"

My eyes snapped open and I swung around.

"I said I'm fine, Arnold."

I jumped slightly because I hadn't been expecting for him to be standing so close. There was still a distance between us, but tilting my face back to meet his gaze, this felt like the closest we had been in years. The pounding in my chest flowed into a feeling that swept through me. I was exploring his features before I could stop myself: the freckles beneath his eyes. The way his chest moved with his breath. How many lashes he had. How his hair fell into his face, and how much I ached to push those strands back so I could sink my fingers into the locks like they were sand. I missed him. I longed for him. The feeling washed over me like a torrent.

He also seemed surprised, like he hadn't noticed how close he had moved until now. His gaze was moving over my face as well, gliding across my forehead, my cheeks, before sinking into my teeth. It made me self–conscious. I didn't know what expression I was making, but I knew that it would never hold a candle to how he looked.

Pressing my lips together, I looked away.

His stare was no longer cradled in mine so I didn't see his reaction. But I recognised his stance shifting, tightening for a moment as if something had caught up to him, before relaxing as he shook himself from his thoughts.

Slowly, he stepped backwards.

My heart shuddered when he did. He needed to leave but I wanted him to stay. Hunger pressed from beneath my skin, pushing outward into a silent cry that filled the room. It wanted nothing more than for his hands to be on me. Distance had been stuck between us for so long and for a moment, he had managed to shatter it. But with just one step, I could feel those shards collecting to snap back into place. His stare pressed into me. I imagined him looking at me like we were back in grade school: disgust curdling in his gaze while I tried hiding my feelings through scaring him.

Nothing had changed.

Arnold still feared me, and I was still in love with him.

It made me sick, the idea that Arnold could look at me like how I thought of Serec. But maybe it was better if he was afraid of me. Maybe it was good that I could wield this one small power over him. It would get him to leave me alone. I needed as much distance as possible so no one could get hurt.

"Did you read the letter?"

I paused, not expecting that.

"Micah's letter?" I asked. And when he nodded, I answered, "Yes."

He didn't say anything for a while.

I looked before I could help myself and was surprised to see that his cheeks had become pink.

"Micah made me write it," he stuttered, gaze dropping to his feet. "He wasn't going to go to bed if I didn't."

I paused, unsure how to feel about this. I didn't know why Arnold was telling me this. From his perspective, I had nothing to do with Blue Jay. Micah had given me that letter because I reminded him of her. So why did Arnold think I would care?

"Was . . . was what Micah—" damn those beautiful eyes of his. "Was what Micah wrote—what he had you write . . . was there any truth to it?"

I think Arnold's friends all like–like you!

My cheeks burned at the thought.

I had honestly forgotten about it when I had tucked the letter away. Boys finding Blue Jay attractive wasn't rare or hot news. Everyone watched when I was her. When she moved, their eyes followed, and it wasn't just in admiration of her powers. Even during school, it wasn't an unexpected place for conversations to go when people talked about her. I overheard it constantly. So, the assumption that Arnold's friends were among those who found her beautiful, wasn't shocking nor noteworthy.

Yet Arnold seemed to think it was.

"Yes," he answered with a shrug he tried to make casual. "Yeah, but who doesn't, y'know?"

That made me eye him,

"And . . ." I said slowly. "That includes you?"

He paused like I had said something that had caught his attention. His brows came together in a small, soft frown and I pretended that I wasn't turning red. I didn't know what I had said but I knew that it had revealed too much.

He looked between my eyes before finally answering, "Yes."

"But—" I shook my head. "Didn't she yell at you?"

He frowned. "How did you—"

"I overheard one of the boys," I lied and stepped closer. "She was too harsh."

"No, she wasn't," he chuckled, but it was bitter sounding. "Look, she was right to be like that—"

"Yell at you?" I demanded, suddenly feeling something flare in my chest. It curdled and made me want to sneer. But it wasn't aimed at Arnold. "Humiliate you?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Look, I—I fucked up. I really did. Micah almost died because of me. And so did Eugene and Sid and—everyone. That thing wanted Micah and then it attacked everybody else. They could have gotten hurt if it wasn't for her. She saved everybody while I almost killed them."

His face contorted with his anger and I hated myself for it. It was an expression I hadn't seen on him in a while. He was always smiling, always catching people before they could fall. I had begun to wonder whether Arnold even experienced anger anymore. But that had always been something I had been a natural at: pulling anger out of him.

And still, that tradition continued. I had done this. I had made him believe that he was to blame for this. But it wasn't, it never was. When I had yelled at him, I had pinned the blame onto him. Because I needed for there to be right and wrong. I needed for there to be a good guy and a bad guy. I needed for someone to remain on top while someone was at the bottom. I had shoved him beneath me because I had lost control, and the bottom was normally where I stayed. Past instincts still pricked at my skin, begging me to bring someone else down to where I lay. Maybe then, I would love myself. That was where I had failed him: I had treated him like I was still Helga, when I needed to be Blue Jay. And this was never his fight. It was never his responsibility. Arnold was a kid whereas, it was my job to protect people. His was to stay safe. That wasn't his burden to carry.

"Why are you telling me this?" I quietly asked him.

That seemed to surprise him. His eyes found their way back to mine and when they did, the anger cleared from his face like smoke. It was a surprise. I was used to invoking anger in him. I expected for it to happen again when I had implied that I didn't care. But instead, his eyes flashed with something that I couldn't recognise as the line returned between his brows.

He looked at me like he didn't know the answer to my question.

Something hung heavy between us.

It made something wiggle in my throat—words. I wanted to say something to him. I wasn't sure what, but I knew that those words would be pouring straight from my chest. I pressed my lips into a tight line, determined not to let them escape. There was nothing I could say that would be shocking to him, but that didn't mean that it still didn't hurt to not see love in his eyes.

The muscles in Arnold's jaw clenched like he was trying to force something back. But his eyes never left mine. They had softened in a way that reminded me of candlelight that burned until the pages had curled back and turned into ashes. Words rose in my chest and his name burned to leave my lips. He looked at me in a way that made it easy to misunderstand. It was why Arnold would always be untrustworthy. He was an oasis always pushing visions into my head. Making me believe that something would happen when nothing ever would.

"I . . ." he hesitated. "I don't know."

He stepped closer.

I hadn't noticed but so had I. The distance between us had been closing without our notice. Like something was pushing against us until we were forced even closer.

I wanted to be happy—mystified. Because despite the circumstances, Arnold was still so close. I just needed to reach out my hand and it would be against his chest. His breath would be washing across my face. His eyes would sink into mine like how I had always imagined.

But instead, I felt trapped. Enclosed. He was looking at me but talking about her. Thinking about her. The love I wanted was reserved for her. And I was unable to escape that fact. His eyes were cages, and I was the bird. The air thinned until it felt like nothing were left. Because his eyes were pushing a message into mine that was inescapable.

He loved her.

He loved her and he didn't know what to do with that love. Because she was too much for him. She was strong and out of his world. He wanted to find her but when he looked, it was like she never existed. He was chasing a mirage. I wanted to laugh at the irony that somehow, I was the one he had confessed this to. Why? Why did he want me to know this? Did he not know how much this hurt to hear? Or maybe, that was exactly why. Maybe I mattered so little to him that my judgement, my pain, it didn't mean anything

I shook my face, coming out of the spell. Yeah, that was why.

That shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. I had been drawing lines and keep distance between us for years. We were never friends, and we never would be. And yet, that realisation saddened me. It angered me. It disappointed me. He looked at me like I should be reacting to what he was saying, like there was something that I should be saying. But I couldn't. Not without voicing my anger.

So, I said nothing.

I left.

And despite everything, it was an ordinary day outside.

The clouds were the shade of candy–floss and swam lazily across the sky. The sun was a glare and forced people to hold hands above their faces and squint. It was somewhat mystifying how fast things could change. Just this morning, it had been pouring and booming with thunder. Now, the air was warm and the light so bright, that when it hit the ground, it rebounded back into your eyes.

My skirt flapped from the breeze that tousled my hair. I had the interlinked chains wrapped in my grasp and my eyes had lifted to watch the birds as they flapped against the sun.

'Acantha, she will be pleased to hear this.'

I pressed my face into the fence.

'You have disappointed me.'

And sighed.

It had been two days.

A rustling caught my attention. It came from behind, but I didn't feel the need to turn. I didn't have to look to know that I wasn't alone.

"He hasn't shown up."

Her stare was boring into my back.

I expected for her to say something. I wanted her to say something—anything. But silence was all that I received. It made something flare in my chest. I turned to glare at her to find that she was already sitting on the bench.

"Why hasn't he shown up?" I demanded and felt the words sizzle in my throat. "He knows that I'm vulnerable."

Vulnerable.

I could feel the seething pulling my teeth together at the thought. Vulnerable. Weak. Useless. That's what I had become. That's what I had fallen too. I had everything standing on my shoulders, everything was depending on me. And yet, I was already breaking. Already, I was failing.

It made me want to cry. Why would she choose a failure to become the world's saviour?

Nel dropped her gaze. I was surprised by how vulnerable she appeared. It was a new look for her. She always had a hardness to her gaze. It frustrated me, but it comforted me. Because it meant that she had a plan. That she was always one step ahead. That there was something to fall back on. But when she was like this, that only meant that . . .

"I'm sorry," she said. "But I am afraid that I also do not understand why."

I released a harsh breath and stepped away from the fence. Sunlight was rolling across my body and pushing the fence's shadows over my face. I tried not to let it bother me that she didn't have the answers. She was only one person. But so was I. And I didn't know what to do.

"Who is Serec?" I asked her.

"I—" Nel's eyes darted across the floor as if she were contemplating her answer. Eventually, she shut her eyes with a sigh. "I'm afraid I do not know that either. But our best bet is that he is one of Acantha's henchmen."

'Acantha, she will be pleased to hear this.'

I shut my eyes. That was true. Whoever Serec was, he definitely had a relationship with Acantha.

"Is Serec—" I hesitated. "Is he a Mutant or Guardian?"

When Nel opened her eyes, her surprise was evident across her face.

"It—" She paused. "It is possible that he could be like you, Helga. Some Guardians grow to become so advanced that they no longer need a transformative device anymore."

I frowned. "I thought they were where our powers came from."

"Not quite," she shook her face. "They are tools designed to bring out what was already there. They reveal the truth, not further an illusion."

I didn't say anything for a while as I processed what she said. That information meant that Serec was even more powerful than I thought.

I turned back to the sky; to the white bodies that soared across the skies. The summer air moved like fingers that wrapped around their bodies. They were so distant, but something soared in my chest. There was a piece that was still missing and I suspected that I wouldn't ever find it again while on the ground.

The thought was as sweet as it was cruel. Without that piece, I would never feel whole again. But also, without it, I had the space to fit Phoebe.

We had promised that to each other. Years ago.

We had been sitting on the docks, our usual spot when we wanted to hide away from the madness. It wasn't hidden, but it also wasn't popular. No one went there anymore, which was perfect. We went there to find peace. It wasn't always much to look at. There was graffiti on the splintering wood and gum was still squished between the boards.

But you get there at the right time, and it became the prettiest spot in town.

That day, the sky had been blinding flares of sunlight, and the clouds had been wrapped in hues so vivid, they looked like they had been set on fire. The water rocked back and forth beneath our feet and slapped against the pillars. It had been beautiful, but I felt grotesque. My soul had been a mess of half patched shards.

"We'll be like those birds, Pheebs," I'd told her as I'd used my sleeve to wipe my nose. "You watch it—we'll leave this shitty place behind in the dust."

Phoebe had looked at me.

The line had returned between her brows, so deep you would think it had permanently become apart of her face. Her eyes went across my tears, but I didn't feel the usual shame. She was the only person who had seen me like that. The only person I allowed to see past the filters and defensiveness.

"Better than the birds," she'd said and tightened her hold around my hand. "We'll be like fireworks. We'll fly across the dark, brightening the night."

She said it with such confidence, that it felt like a punch to remember nowadays. I could feel myself smiling at the memory of it. Phoebe had always believed in me. She had stuck beside me like she was my twin, but now . . .

I rose my eyes back to the dying skies where the birds had vanished.

"I was never well liked as a kid," I admitted to Nel. She looked up at me and I chuckled. "Shocking, right? Phoebe was my only friend. The only person who cared about me. So, this whole being admired crap is still really weird. I never experienced that from anyone but her. But when I'm Blue Jay, I get it from almost everyone. They look at me and say how brave and strong and selfless I am." I smiled with bitterness. "Would it be selfish to wish that Blue Jay was someone else?"

Nel frowned. "Helga—"

"Why was I chosen as a Guardian?"

It became quiet.

The silence turned my blood cold. I still wasn't sure what answer I wanted. I didn't know if I would ever find an answer that was good enough to make this all better. Nothing Nel would say could take away the pain. The burdens that pressed into my back whenever people looked in my direction. I didn't like being the centre of people's focus, I had faded into the background exactly to escape it. But I had been so focused on escaping the ire that I had never considered how hurtful their praise could be.

"I miss being Helga—just Helga," I continued and wrapped my fingers around the chains. "Things were better then . . . I was selfish. I never had to think of anyone else's feelings. People looked down on me and I hated it. My entire sixteen years, I had never been a good person. But I never had to worry about living for anyone else. I was my number one and I lived for myself only. But now, I . . . I'm expected to always be there. To always know what I'm doing otherwise everything will fall and collapse and they'll leave me again. I thought being hated was the worst feeling in the world, but turns out, being loved is even scarier."

I dug the heel of my palm into my eye.

"I . . . I hate Blue Jay."

The silence became like poison.

I wanted Nel to scold me. I wanted her to tell me that I was stupid, that I was selfish and horrible and a disappointment.

But she didn't.

"Is that so?" she asked me quietly.

I glanced to find her ears had folded back against her head and her gaze lowering itself to the ground. Like she felt shame.

It confused me.

But I didn't deny her the truth.

"Yes," I nodded and turned back to the sky. "Ever since she's come into my life, I've been stuck in this small box. I haven't been able to breathe and exist as myself. I miss being just Helga. I don't want everyone looking at me and expecting for the world to be saved. I want everyone avoiding me because they know I'll burn it all down . . . I want nothing to do with Blue Jay."

Nel's eyes rose back to me. "Are you resigning?"

It hadn't been what I had intended on implying but despite that, I considered it. Was I resigning? Did I want that? I was ashamed to admit that maybe I did.

"No," I shook my head and turned back to her. "I want to, but I can't. There's no one else, is there? No, don't worry, I won't resign. But I'll work hard. I'll fight with everything I have so I—"

I released a shaky breath.

"—so I never have to be Blue Jay again."

I looked up to find Arnold watching me that afternoon.

The clouds had been burned away so when the sun had come out, the light had felt like flames that kept pouring into our skin. The breeze had picked up to move his strands to the side. He didn't move to push them from his face. His hands were by his sides like he had forgotten himself. But the tightness in his brows made him seem focused, like he knew exactly what he was doing. His gaze never moved away from me. He wasn't embarrassed to have been caught staring. His brows twitched when my eyes met his, like he was still trying to sort something out in his brain.

Students were flocking around him. The lines were being formed to get onto the bus. Lila and Gerald stood beside him although they were wrapped up in their own discussion.

"—just don't think it's very good."

"No way!" Lila shouted. "Ouran High School Host Club deserves exactly the praise that it gets!"

"You don't think it's a little overrated?"

"Gerald, I think you're overrated!"

I turned away from them. Pulled my hoodie up and began walking away. Arnold's stare pressed into me like a burn. I figured he was still embarrassed about the note. Like my opinion mattered. I shoved my hands into my pockets and held onto my pin. The metal was cool against my skin and strangely, that felt comforting.

"Helga!"

I stopped when I heard the voice and looking in its direction, I was surprised to see Phoebe racing in my direction. My heart sank at the sight. I'd missed her so much.

Sunlight filtered around her as she ran. It tangled with her dark hair as her smile hooked upwards her face. It was a smile I hadn't seen from her in a while. Staring at it, it hit me how long it'd been since we'd gotten to be best friends.

The moment she reached me, I threw my arms around her. She let out a startled noise as she was yanked to my chest. She didn't return the hug. Her arms stayed by her sides as her body froze up. I tried not to let that hurt me. From her perspective, it had only been two days.

Eyes were boring into my skin. I could imagine the astonishment they all felt: Helga G. Pataki hugging someone? Wasn't that the girl who was so unpleasant that even her best friend ached to get away from her? The assumptions made my throat burn. I wasn't sure whether it was from the words that wanted to escape, or the tears. What life had I built for myself, that the thought of hugging my best friend was a shocking event?

"I didn't realise you had missed me so much," Phoebe finally said and finally, her arms squeezed my waist.

I sucked in a small breath. Somehow, Phoebe always made everything feel easier.

"What brought this on?" she asked once we had separated. Her eyes were moving along my face as if, despite asking me for an answer, she knew I wasn't going to actually give it. So may as well find it herself.

Sadly, I smiled.

"Nothing," I told her. "Was there something you wanted?"

Her eyes bounced to mine like I had called her name.

"Oh, well, I managed to get the afternoon off," she sheepishly admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. "I can finally manage a Sundae Monday. Even if it's three days late."

I blinked at her.

"Wait, really?" I shook my face. "How'd you manage that?"

"Well, there's just been so many attacks," she explained. "The head members don't wanna risk it so they've been pushing us to head straight home."

And like that, the excitement that had been bubbling in my chest, suddenly decayed.

Right.

I had actually managed to forget. How fucked up my world had gotten over night. How I had signed my soul away for a chance to fly. How high the chances were that today could be my last day.

This could be the last time I see her.

My gaze shifted from hers back to the ground, to my worn shoes, and I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Shouldn't you listen to them then?" I asked her. "If they're so worried. It might be dangerous."

"I considered this," Phoebe said, shrugging. "But it's been quite some time since we have hung out, Helga. I figured this was worth it. Plus, I haven't had an afternoon to relax in a while."

Her words were a punch to my face that I took a while responding to. Because they were a cruel reminder that we were in completely different worlds.

It had only been a couple of days but already, I was buckling from the weight of everything. I had never been an optimist, but I also wasn't afraid. I wasn't always looking over my shoulders because I knew something wanted to sink its claws into my back. I wasn't setting my alarm to wake me every forty–five minutes in case there was an attack that I wanted to be awake for. I wasn't seeing visions of myself, dismantled and drowning in blood. This new world had turned me into a wound that you couldn't stitch to fix its misery. Everything was ending and I was getting used to sleeping with that thought lingering in my head. I was learning to sew myself up despite the bruises so I could relive everything the next day. Wake up, go to school, go to training, and then, go to battle. That was my world, that was my new prison.

And Phoebe existed outside of that. She didn't have to worry about it. She didn't have to consider that any day could be her last. She didn't have to feel that fear that shot so hard down your spine that it paralysed you. She didn't have the world resting on her back and crushing her neck. She was still so bright and hopeful, and her eyes reflected that.

I had no idea how long I stayed there, mulling over her words. But the thoughts that raced through my mind were like venom. Because I realised that we would never change. Things were never going to get better. I had been hoping that the distance that had been between us would one day be resolved. That one day she would turn around and come back to me. And there had been moments where I had thought that it was going to happen. But in that moment, I became aware that the distance between us had widened too much. And it was never going to close again.

"I can't," I finally told her. "Not today."

Or ever.

Phoebe looked at me strangely.

"Oh, really?" she asked. "Why?"

"I—" my tongue felt swollen. "Busy. I'm busy, Pheebs."

"Busy?"

"Yeah," I shifted the straps of my bag. "Busy."

"With what?"

"Um," I racked my brain for any lie and blurted the first thing that sprang to mind. "Orthodontist."

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. Nice one, Pataki.

"Really?" Phoebe asked, but her eyebrows rose in that way that let me know that she didn't believe me.

Not that I could blame her.

"Yeah," I swallowed then shifted my gaze somewhere—anywhere.

It was the end of the day so the sights around us weren't interesting enough to distract myself with. I had expected to just shift my gaze onto the fence until I felt brave enough to meet Phoebe's eye again. But instead, I caught Arnold's eye. He hadn't looked away; he was still watching me closely. The space between his brows was still wrinkled and his jaw was set in that soft frown he always wore when he was puzzled.

The buses had pulled up at this point and Gerald was amongst those fighting to proclaim his spot in line. Lila watched him like a disappointed mother.

"I have a super important appointment that I can't miss," I said to Phoebe, even though I was looking at Arnold. Why was he still looking at me like that?

"Oh," Phoebe said.

Something sank in my chest.

I was disappointing her. Hurting her. Letting her down. And I hated it. It wasn't a foreign feeling—disappointing people. Wherever I went, I was ill–equipped to handle things if it involved other people. I had gotten used to it, numbed myself to that fact. But I couldn't handle it when those people I hurt included Phoebe. The love that I felt for her had rushed to tie itself into burdens that sank in my chest. I wanted to scream and shout that I wasn't doing this to hurt her. I was doing this to protect her. But I knew that I could never make her understand. Not if I wanted to keep her away from this reality. What was I supposed to say? Cut me loose. Untangle me from her destiny. There was nothing she could do but get hurt. And I couldn't bare that thought. The consequence to living in different worlds was never speaking the same language and I had already come to the acceptance that we would never understand each other like we once did.

And so, I decided I would at least make this pain worth it.

Phoebe had been a constant in my life. She had always been there for me and I needed to do the same for her. I couldn't be there as Helga anymore but I could as Blue Jay. I would harden my skin into stone. I would run until there wasn't ground to cover. I would burn my tears and set my wails on fire. I would hold my arms out to keep the bullets from raining down on her. Shield, never the victor. I would give her my chance at life.

'We'll be like fireworks. We'll fly across the dark, brightening up the night.'

No.

No, we wouldn't fly across the dark, but maybe she could. I had to keep training, keep fighting. So she could, one day, become those fireworks.

She forced a smile. "Well, then, how abou—"

"I'm sorry, Pheebs," I was already turning my back on her. "But I gotta go."

I left before she could say anything.

Black swirled around me.

The hologram had its knees pinned into me as its hands wrapped around my throat. My head was pounding and the room violently swung between my eyes. Spit gurgled between my lips. I could taste my lunch. The hologram reached forward for my injured palm—

And I cried.

I tried fighting it off, but the pain was distracting. Maybe I could—

The hologram vanished.

I blinked. And frowned.

Sitting up, I clutched my palm. It sent a flash of pain that lit stars in my eyes as a slipperiness dampened my fingers. I ignored it to press my glare in Nel's direction. The glass was tinted, so from far away, it was harder to make out what was happening behind it. But I could still sense her worried gaze as she glanced down at my hand.

"Helga—"

"Serec's not going to quit just cause he sees that I'm in a little pain," I hissed at her.

"But, Helga," she frowned. "You're still injured."

Fury beat in my chest until I was climbing to my feet and marching for the window. The ache burned in my wrist and travelled up my shoulder until it was sparking in my knees. I ignored that, and the blood that was slipping down my fingers.

"It's my job to protect people. I knew the consequences when I signed up for this. And you said that you'd train me into a soldier, didn't you?" I stopped when I was in front of the window. My eyes never left her so I could see the pain that fogged her gaze. I hated the sight of it. "How're you supposed to do that if you keep babying me?"

She knew I was right.

She was reluctant but she knew that I had the upper hand here. This was what I had signed up for and this was my primary focus. Protecting people. That was all that mattered. She may not want to admit it, but being a Guardian was a sacrifice. It wasn't about receiving acclaim and fame, but keeping other people safe and to do that, you had to be the thing taking all the punches. Her eyes went down to my palm, but I shifted it behind my back. I needed this pain otherwise, I would keep running away.

She sighed and reluctantly pressed the button.

I turned around when the noises filled the room. I sized up the hologram that had appeared. It was larger than the others before it, and I knew that, had there not been such a distance, the creature would be towering over me.

I felt my nostrils flare.

And in unison, we lunged forward.

I wasn't back until night was falling over the city.

I hadn't realised how much time I was spending down there until I had stepped outside to find the vibrant colours of the day had softened into pastels. And by the time I was back in Hillwood, streetlights were burning bright as the black tucked behind it.

Shivers were pouring down my spine like knives. The winds were picking up and with it, tiny droplets were spitting down my face. I sniffed and tried pulling my sleeves down until they covered my fingers. Like it was going to do any good. I was still in my school uniform which until now I had complained was too long and stocky. But it left my legs exposed to the winds that couldn't seem to help themselves.

I pretended that it didn't bother me. I had always loved the rain. It wasn't a hard performance to remember.

Hair ruffled around my face and I shoved it behind my ears. I had been pulling my strands free from their ponytails when Nel had explained to me that she wanted to be on the lookout for any strange activities. Wraiths hadn't shown up yet, but that didn't mean that they weren't there. We needed to stay alert and on the watch.

So while she was wandering off wherever, I was headed back home. I didn't know if there would be any food in the cupboards. Maybe I should stop at a convenience shop for a cheap cup of noodles. The world was still spinning and I knew that it wasn't just because new bruises marred my skin.

I came to a stop, like the realisation was new, and pulled back my sleeve to look at them. As promised, Nel had cranked up the difficulty levels. It had gotten brutal. Truthfully, I think that was why she had left. Because she was still thrown from how intense it had gotten. How I laid there on the floor and kept telling her I needed more of it. I looked at the bruises and felt a hatred move through me. They looked worse than they felt. Blue Jay's healing must be kicking in because I couldn't feel anything. Or maybe, it had nothing to do with her and I was just so used to shoving everything so far beneath the surface, that it even fooled me. Maybe it had never been Blue Jay doing this to me, but Helga.

I then peeled off my blazer and stuffed it into my bag. I didn't know why I was doing it until the shivers were rolling down my spine with a violence that made it hard to stand. The hood was blown from my face and rain moved down my cheeks until my skin glistened. But I didn't mind. Because it felt good to at least feel something again.

I lifted my arms like I were waiting for an applause. The air grazed my skin like salt and pinched my neck. Hair flew down my back. It became so cold that it felt like flames were resting beneath my skin. I welcomed it all.

I continued down the street when I heard a familiar giggle.

I paused and looked over my shoulder, realising that I'd passed the Sundae Saloon. I sighed. That's where Pheebs and I used to have our Sundae Mondays.

My stomach growled. I groaned. I definitely would need to pick something up for dinner. It didn't matter if we had things at home. I hadn't eaten since lunch and our training session had lasted hours. I couldn't wait any longer than it took to get back home.

A thought then popped into my head and I steered in the direction for the Saloon. It was stupid; not only was it cold, but I needed something with substance. But I figured I deserved this. I was putting myself through the ringer and I likely wouldn't stop until the inevitable happened. One triple chocolate sundae couldn't possibly make anything worse. I could feel myself salivating just thinking about it—

I froze.

Peering into the large window, I recognised the people sitting in a back booth. Phoebe, Arnold, Gerald, Lila, Eugene and Sheena—all of them.

They were sat at the back where the light fell around them like a heavenly glow. Eugene and Sheena were in the middle, Lila and Arnold were to their right, and Phoebe and Gerald were on the left. Lila mostly engaged with Sheena, but Arnold's eyes kept moving back to her. My chest sunk. He was blushing. A smile had rolled across his lips without his notice. A new coldness swept through me that had nothing to do with the weather. The way he looked at her. I hadn't felt safe believing it, but after how he had looked at me today, I had secretly thought—hoped that . . .

Arnold Shortman was cruel, I decided. No one who had ever existed had been as cruel as he was to me.

It was never going to happen. I needed that to be hammered in. It was never happening because I wasn't her. I was Helga. I would always be Helga. I couldn't escape it.

Gerald said something that made Phoebe and Eugene laugh. She leaned back into his arms and snickered into her hands.

My heart sunk.

We really were in different worlds. It shouldn't have hurt me to admit that, I knew that and thought I had accepted it hours ago. But seeing it like this—how quickly she had managed to surround herself with people that made her laugh like that. I really wasn't needed. She loved me, I knew that. But she didn't need me. And when the one person you had thought needed you, no longer did, what else were you to presume if not that you weren't needed at all? Blue Jay was, but not Helga. Blue Jay would be mourned, Helga would be forgotten.

I looked down to my wrapped hand. Tears fused the shapes together. The words threatened to burn a hole in my throat. I held them back. This was good. This was really good. It was better this way. Phoebe could continue separating herself from me and that meant that she was safe.

This worked out for everyone.

I walked down the street in a new silence. I found myself holding my breath and wondered if it was because I didn't want to take anymore room then necessary. The hunger that had threatened to pull me to my knees, had been shoved so far back, that it became easy to convince myself that nothing was wrong. Everything was fine. I was fine. The future was weighing on my shoulders and threatening to bring everything into pieces. The world wanted to collapse in on itself. I meant nothing to anyone. It should have been upsetting, but strangely, there was a freedom in finally admitting it to myself. To seeing for my own eyes how pointless everything was. It didn't matter what I did because the story only had one ending. I had no idea how to prevent it, and maybe there was no preventing it. I was walking on borrowed time. It was only a matter of time before . . .

And suddenly, pink fingers were stuffing headphones into my ears. I scrolled through my phone and hit a button that made music fill my mind. It pumped so hard like it wanted to draw blood. I didn't care. I didn't care that I was standing in public. I didn't care that I wasn't even that far away from the Saloon and that they could come out at any point to see me. I didn't care because I didn't care anymore.

I began dancing.

My baby want a Birkin, she's been tellin' me all night long
Gasoline and groceries, the list goes on and on

The movements were small at first, snapping my fingers. Bouncing in my step. But as the sound grew and the lyrics travelled down my body, I began to throw more and more of myself into the song. It was like someone had snipped the strings that had been tied around my wrists. The shame that should've crept upwards my flesh, had been burned away, and instead, all I wanted was to move.

This 9 to 5 ain't workin', why the hell do I work so hard?
I can't worry 'bout my problems, I can't take 'em when I'm gone (Uh)

The way that the music moved through me was relieving. I imagined it glowing like magic, drumming like a second heartbeat.

One, here comes the two, to the three, to the four
Tell 'em "Bring another round", we need plenty more

Rain spiralled through the air. It smacked into my face and trickled down my neck. I could feel my eyes burning from the cold water. My hair swung as I ducked my face in time with the beat. The ache was trying to return to continue bruising my chest. The sickness wanted to come back to infect my mind. But I kept pushing it back until nothing mattered.

Two steppin' on the table, she don't need a dance floor
Oh my, good Lord

Blue Jay was taking everything from me. Everyone thought she was a hero, but she was a thief. She stole pieces that I hadn't even known I'd been holding onto. More and more until it was getting harder to stand. I couldn't keep stitching something that wasn't there. But everyone preferred her. They liked it when I was her. That made it worth it. Heaven was painted from Hell's colours. I would kill myself for their safety and they could continue like I had never existed.

Someone pour me up a double shot of whiskey
They know me and Jack Daniel's got a history
There's a party downtown, near 5th Street
Everybody at the bar gettin' tipsy

I wondered if it was still cold, or if everything had stopped. Then, I felt the rain come down harder. Lightning cracked and a shadow danced across the ground. I smiled. Clothes stuck to my body like second skin. I could feel my teeth chattering. Still, I danced.

Everybody at the bar gettin' tipsy
Everybody at the bar gettin' tipsy

No one cared. No one cared. And so, neither did I. Lightning coursed through the clouds and my shadow filled the street. Thunder was moving closer. Instinct spiked in my throat and told me to get out of there. But I shut my eyes and pretended that the rain was cold little stars. No one cared so I wouldn't care. And I knew that no one cared because if they did, I wouldn't be out here.

It's been forty–eight hours since Serec discovered I had no powers.

Tilting back my face, I felt the water move down my face like tears. Maybe they were tears. But I didn't crumble.

Instead, I laughed.

Serec, where were you?

Chapter Text

One . . .

My breath came out in short bursts.

. . . two . . .

Fingers trembled into fists.

. . . three . . .

I could hear their footsteps approaching.

. . . four . . .

I shoved my hair back.

. . . five!

Power jolted down my body and I leapt to my feet, springing onto the hood of the car. The air slashed across my body as hair twisted around my face. There was a collusion that shattered into my legs; I wrapped my thighs around the Mutant, squeezing around the back of its neck.

The Mutant hollered and backed into circles. Fingers dug deep into my legs. I clenched my thighs, wrapping my elbow beneath its jaw. Blood pumped hard beneath my skin. I threw out a hand in my knife’s direction. The warmth buzzed in my ears when a searing pain burst over my scalp. Fingers wrapped around my hair and then tugged until I was flying through the air.

The world pummelled into my chest until something cracked against the back of my head. It rung with a metallic twang as the surface folded beneath my bones. Black rays swam across my vision as the world formed into a knot that threatened to hurl down my throat. I launched forward, hands on my chest (which I half–expected to crack from the pressure), and hacked violently. The ground trembled beneath the Mutants’ feet as the creatures charged for me. Their mouths were gaping and saliva flew out from their jagged teeth, but I couldn’t hear anything from beneath the ear–splitting ringing.

I attempted to get back to my feet, but the nausea clawed at my throat until it had pushed against my face. The ground slammed up into my stomach as my head continued to spin. Trees swooped around me as the earth moved in waves. Something was rocking in my throat; I couldn’t be sure if it was my heart or my lunch.

Clamping my teeth together, I slid my hands out onto the floor until I could push myself onto my knees.

I looked to the Mutants who ran like dogs.

The sight of them made the skin on my back bristle like hot knives. Blood pounded hard in my ears, like it wanted to push me down. I dug my nails into the ground, hard enough that had it been skin, I would’ve drawn blood. Keeping one hand down, I raised my other until I could feel the heat travelling from my nails down to my shoulder. The metal was singing as it neared me. I could hear it before I saw it. But it flashed, nearing my fingers, until the Mutants in front of me, suddenly became very, very blurry.

I paused, the knife dropping to the ground, then looked up.

The world was becoming distorted. Colours were becoming ragged, bleeding into one another, as the sounds fell away. Then, there was a flash, as the Mutants and surroundings vanished, leaving me alone in a familiar blank room.

Its sight infuriated me.

“What the hell, Nel?” I yanked my gaze in her direction. “I was doing fi—”

“It’s almost time for school, Helga,” she replied from behind her window. The glass was tinted, but even from here, I could see the tiredness in her eyes. Hear the exhaustion in her voice. “If you want to make it in time for your bus, we’re going to have to pack up now.”

I rolled my eyes at her.

“I’m not catching the bus, Einstein.”

She paused mid–yawn. “What?”

“I’ll just jog to school, it’s no big deal,” I said with a shrug. I could feel her staring at me and turned away so she couldn’t see my expression. “It’ll probably benefit me to run that far.”

The air seemed to still, like the room was holding its breath, even though it was just us here. It made my lungs kick at my ribs and my stomach roll until it was stuffed in my throat. I suddenly felt uncomfortable, like my skin was too tight for my body. I swallowed anyway. Blinked back the water that wanted to fog my vision.

Finally, she sighed and said softly, “Helga, you’re pushing yourself much too far.”

Oh, criminy. Here we go again.

“And? I’m the only Guardian Hillwood has,” I snapped without looking at her. “We can’t waste anymore time. Neither of us know when Serec or another Mutant are gonna get here. We have to be prepared for it.”

But despite what I said, I felt the opposite. I wasn’t running, I wasn’t fighting, I wasn’t even standing. The adrenaline was no longer flaring like it had been and without it, it became harder to deny that I was exhausted. I could feel the fog filling my brain and sinking deep into my muscles. I shook my face as if that would wake me and shifted my stare across the ground. I wasn’t looking at her, but I could feel Nel’s stare hot on my neck.

“But Helga—”

“Turn on the holograms, Nel.”

I forced myself back onto my feet. But the world was still reeling and for a moment, I lost my balance and fell onto my knee. The impact rang in my ears and a weight dropped into my shoulders that made it hard to push myself back up. The weight was bitter, a mixture of the exhaustion and pain that made everything turn on its side. I wanted to lift my hands, but it was like they were chained to the ground.

Salt burned my eyes.

I didn’t know how long Nel and I had been here. Maybe it had been hours, maybe it had only been minutes. But at some point, I had realised that sleep wouldn’t be a possibility. The bedsheets had pressed cold and wet against my face, and a panic poured around my heart until it became hard to breathe. It had taken some convincing, but Nel had relented when I promised that I would head straight home after school (provided that we weren’t attacked). But her eyes had watched my back as I had run around my room, finding my shoes. She was analysing me, like she always seemed to be doing. I didn’t know what it was that she saw, but I increasingly became scared of it, since she hadn’t pointed anything out. The entire time, I chose not to look into her eyes once.  

I hadn’t allowed myself to register the pain once while we were down here. I had drowned it all out and focused on strategic thinking, searching for ways to escape the scenarios that Nel set up from behind her desk.

But now that we had stopped, I didn’t have anything to fall back on. I didn’t have anything to hide behind. The adrenaline was gone and without it, everything had become very heavy. My eyelids felt like they were swollen and the ground threatened to cave beneath my feet. I was tired. I was exhausted. And I did want to go back. I wanted to take the day off. I didn’t think I could handle another day at school.

But in doing that, I would be giving up.

And I . . .

Don’t be useless, Helga.

I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t. I was so used to being the failure. The last pick. The one that no one wanted, the one that people either forgot about, or hated. There wasn’t a place in this world for me. But I had finally been chosen for something in my life. Finally, something had found me and wanted me. Regardless of how I felt about being a Guardian now, I wouldn’t disappoint it. I wouldn’t make them—whoever they were—regret their choice. Someone finally wanted me. There had to be a reason.

Besides—

‘Acantha, she will be pleased to hear this.’

He was coming. She still lingered in the shadows. Something greater than everything wanted to tear this world apart. It was my job to prevent it. I couldn’t run away from that fact. I couldn’t pretend that it didn’t exist. This was a nightmare that I couldn’t pinch myself awake from. This was my reality that I needed to prevent from becoming other people’s realities. And waiting around for someone to take notice was a trap that I couldn’t fall back into. I often dreamed that all my nightmares would end when I was woken by the perfect kiss. The hazy glow would settle into his face and his hands would sink into my hair. But I needed to get realistic. Nobody was coming to save me. I had no one. I needed to keep saving myself. It was a rare thing I was actually good at: picking myself up again and pretending that I had never been hurt. To stop now would be to turn my problems back onto everyone else again. I couldn’t do that.

You’re the shield, never the victor.

I wanted to be angry, but I wasn’t. I always knew that my life would amount to nothing. I would fade into the background until I turned to dust, and the world would continue turning. This at least gave me something to die for. Even if I was just a distraction. Even if I was only a sacrifice. I couldn’t abandon everyone. 

Something flashed around me.

I looked up to find myself standing in the middle of a road that stretched for miles like it were a dark ribbon. The sky was bare and without a single star, and the wind howled until my strands were pouring into my face.

I moved them away but spared a small smile. I didn’t know where Nel was anymore, but I hoped that she could sense my gratitude.

There was a dark figure that stood a few hundred feet away from me. It had long, thick arms and spindly fingers that grazed past its knees.

I moved my hair out of my face again as I gave it a once over, checking for any potential weaknesses.

The air stilled as we studied one another.

Then, like someone had shouted a command, we charged.

The wind whistled in my ears as I bolted for the Mutant. The noises echoed from beneath its feet as it got closer. I swept the hair from my eyes and leapt from my toes and into the air. My stomach fell into knots as I twisted my body in an elaborate twirl. The air wrapped around my arms and for a moment, a rhythm tingled in my chest. I had forgotten how light everything was in this body. The Mutant’s presence washed over me and I snapped out my leg until there was a sharp crack! that made its body fall backwards.

Landing on my feet, I smirked.

I’d nailed it in the nose.

So it was unsurprising that my body was sore for the rest of the day.

It didn’t matter how much I moved my arms, twisted my wrists, or stretched my back, I was always in some level of discomfort which flared whenever I took so much as a step. It was as if my muscles had clamped into stone so they could press into my bones until they snapped. The sensation made it hard to keep standing and for the third time, I had to shake my head to pull myself out of the daze. It didn’t help that, true to my word, I had run here, rather than take the bus.

Which, I know, sounded crazy. Running all the way to school from training was psychopathic behaviour. But the whole being a Guardian thing meant that I was faster. I was this strange mixture of being as hard and strong as stone while also being as light as a feather. It was strange because my movements didn’t feel different then from when I was Helga, but the earth slipped beneath my feet so much quicker. I could cross larger distances in less time, and most of the time, it barely even left me winded. So, I figured I could make it in half an hour tops. Which I did, only—

The knot in my neck suddenly burned like it wanted to remind me of how tired I was. I wanted to roll my eyes. Okay yeah, so turns out being a Guardian didn’t make you invincible. I still needed to rest and eat to recover my energy (of which, I had done neither). Thank goodness, I was headed straight home after school. I didn’t know whether to dive straight into bed or run myself a long and hot bath. I could probably knock two birds down with one stone and fall asleep while in that long and hot bath.

I shook my head to get rid of the thought. I wasn’t home yet; I was still at school. It wasn’t even the first period. I still had a long way’s to go before the end of the day.

I rubbed my eyes as I searched for the correct books. It was taking longer than necessary. The good thing about being in so much pain was that it made it easier to resist sleep. But that didn’t mean that I wasn’t still out of it. The words along the spine were fuzzy and I could barely translate them in my head.

I picked out the ones that seemed right and tucked them beneath my armpit. Slamming the locker shut, I turned around when I caught a flash of golden hair.

I looked before I could help myself.

And heaved a sigh.

Of course, while I was feeling my worst, Arnold was looking his best.

He was on the other end of the hallway and surrounded by his friends as he collected his own books. But like yesterday, the crowds seemed to part when I looked at them, giving me a perfect view of the Adonis.

The lights streamed through his hair, sliding beneath his cheeks and hooking on the edges of his smile. Watching him, I wanted to melt. He looked dazzling. He had his hair shoved backwards, but strands were defying his will to hang over his brow again. My fingers twitched. I dreamed of sinking my fingers into those strands.

Someone must have said something funny because everyone was laughing. Gerald had thrown his head back to bark out his laughter while Arnold stood beside him. He was a little quieter. He chuckled, but there was a meekness to it. He twisted his bag straps in his hands, somewhat self–consciously. I wondered if the joke had been made at his expense. But he didn’t seem uncomfortable. His lips were pulled into that playful smile that exposed his teeth, eyebrows bobbing.

But he shuffled, like he was painfully conscious of someone’s presence.

I then took notice of the head of red hair beside him. I held back a sigh. Lila. Of course. No wonder he seemed so flustered. She stood so close to him, she may as well be hanging onto him. I tried not to let that pain me. I tried not to let that hurt. Come on Helga, you knew this. You knew that eventually, something would happen between those two and you would be forced to watch from the sidelines. Because he didn’t want you. No one wanted you.

Right.

I moved in the direction of my next class, when—

“Ah!”

—I crashed into someone.

They bounced off from my chest as my books clattered to the ground. I had to clamp down on my tongue to hold back the scream when one struck my toes. Shit. The person stepped back, their black hair the only thing I could see in their face. I could feel stares pouring into my back and I crunched my hands into fists. Christ, this wasn’t exactly keeping it low, Pataki.

“Oops—Helga! I’m so sorry.”

Huh?

I looked down to see Phoebe’s sheepish face. The smile she wore became more genuine when she noted that it was me and not some stranger. But she still looked slightly embarrassed to have run straight into me.

The sight of her sent an arrow straight through my chest. Familiar sensations from yesterday rushed back into my brain; the grief that had flooded my system until it had burned a hole into my chest. The wavering and blurring as the ground kept slamming into my heels. I had been spinning, had that been what made everything twist around me? Or, had it been the knowledge, the awareness? The way that my destiny had been revealed, all sharp teeth and without the bow. My destiny, my death. No memory. It had all lodged into my mind with a violet crack! as my stomach had hovered close to the back of my throat.

Everything of mine was about to come down to nothing. And I was powerless to outrun it.

Of course, I didn’t say any of that when I looked at her.

I said nothing.

Instead, I gave her a nod then ducked to the ground to pick up my books.

“I’ve got them,” she followed me. “I—”

I snatched my hand away before she could accidentally brush her fingers against mine. It left several books between us, which I didn’t make an effort to move towards. I could feel my vocals burying themselves deeper into my throat as I looked at her. But she didn’t seem to have noticed. Something had caught her attention.

I followed her line of sight and almost dropped dead right there.

Because, amongst my books and loose papers, was an article that I’d torn from one of Olga’s stupid magazines.

An article titled, ‘How to Walk in High–Heels’.

Fuck.

How was I supposed to explain that? Phoebe knew me more than anyone. She knew that I would never even touch a high–heeled shoe, let alone look into wearing one.

I snatched the article away from her grasp and shoved it between my books. Phoebe glanced at me. I couldn’t tell if she was offended with my behaviour. But her eyes were moving over my face. I looked away to escape her scrutinising gaze but I could feel my cheeks already burning.

It wasn’t helping that Arnold and his group were staring at us. I wasn’t sure why they were; it wasn’t like anything significant was happening. Or maybe, it wasn’t us they were watching, but Phoebe. Maybe they were feeling sorry for her because her supposed best friend was blowing her off, as if she was in the position to be turning anyone down.

“Sorry,” Phoebe finally said and tilted her head. “Anyways, it seems that I am free again. Would you be interested in making up for our lost session of Sundae Monday?”

Which one? I thought before I could stop myself. But I bit back that bitterness and tucked it away in a dark corner in my mind.

Sucking in a breath, I shut my eyes.

Here we go again. Attempting to rekindle a friendship. I hated doing this to her.

‘Acantha, she will be pleased to hear this.’

But I had to.

“I can’t.” I clenched the books tight to my chest and rose to my feet. Phoebe followed me. “I’m busy.”

The hallway felt emptier than usual. Were people leaving? Were they eavesdropping? I could imagine what they were thinking, what they were whispering to each other. ‘Ugh, that awful Pataki. Such an ugly girl. Always keeping people from smiling. Surprising that it’s her doing the ditching and not Phoebe, but hopefully, Phoebe will see some sense and let it happen. Helga only held her back anyway.’

I was ready to leave when Phoebe finally said—

“You said that yesterday.”

I froze. Shit.

Turning to her, I was surprised by the cool acceptance on her face. Like she had already predicted that answer although she still had so many questions. She knew that I was lying. It didn’t surprise me; she knew me more than anyone on this planet. She knew when my words weren’t connecting. She could recognise when the only thing tying them together were white lies.

“I . . .” why was my throat so dry? “I have errands. I . . . It’s Bob. That man’s totally useless, I swear.”

I forced a laugh. It was empty–sounding, like I was trying to hold back tears.

“Maybe I could help you?” she tried again. “After all, two hands are more useful than one.”

I lowered my eyes away from hers. I couldn’t look at her when I lied.

“Sorry Pheebs,” I murmured. “Bob wants me to do this on my own.”

She didn’t respond to that. It didn’t surprise me. What could she say?

The stares were pouring hotter into my neck. I bit my lip. They were still watching. Why? Their gazes had become heavier. Were they harsher? More judgemental? I could feel the fire building in my spine to scorch my bone. I shuffled. I didn’t know what had their attention, but I needed to escape it.

“I’m really sorry Pheebs, but I gotta get—”

“How was your appointment yesterday?”

I paused then looked up. “What?”

“At the Orthodontist,” she stressed, eyes boring into mine.

And for a moment, I stared at her, struggling to latch onto the words I must have told her yesterday. Orthodontist. Right. That must have been the lie I had fed her. I had completely forgotten. It shouldn’t have been hard to tell her another lie, but the stares were building. They made something turn in my chest as I stumbled slightly beneath them. One in particular stared harder than all the others. Their stare was sharper than everyone else’s combined.

“Uhh,” I stepped backwards. “Yeah, I—it was all good. Nothing wrong over here.”

I was smiling but she didn’t return it. She frowned at me, eyes sweeping over my face as she calculated how big a lie that was from how big my grin appeared.

I needed to get out of here.

“Helga—”

“Sorry, Pheebs!” I laughed despite the lump that was rising in my throat. “But I gotta get going! Wouldn’t wanna keep good ol’ Algebra waiting!”

And before she could say anything, I bolted.

My heart was thumping the whole time. I didn’t give her the chance to say anything, not even to point out that it was a Thursday so Algebra wasn’t until fourth period. I just ran and didn’t even give myself the chance to breathe until I had raced out of the corridor.

Then, pressing my back against the wall, I released a deep breath and lowered my chin. This was for the best, I kept reminding myself. This was for her.

Something had sliced through the numbness that had been keeping me on my feet. The pain that bled through was different than before. It didn’t hurt, but it stung. The wall was beating against my back, like it was trying to punch through to my heart. Voices faded in and out. The knot in my throat rolled until something was pooling across my vision. I blinked it back. Pressed my lips together to make sure that I wouldn’t scream, to keep myself from crying.

The afternoon I had been stitching together—the hot water that would roll across my body. The quiet that would fill the air and push until my ears ached. The shampoo that I would scrub into my scalp. Daffodils. It all didn’t matter because it would amount to nothing. The illusion that I had been using to keep myself afloat was only that—an illusion. A Band-Aid to slap onto a bullet wound. It didn’t matter.

I wrapped my hands tight around the books against my chest and watched the wall across from me. Reminded myself: I was doing this for her, I was doing this for her, I was doing this for her. I was going to die, but I was doing it for her.

Right?

I was in a sour mood after that.

Not that I often attended school chipper. Or even that this morning had been all that pleasant. But the pretend that I had been attempting was gone and now, with my chest feeling like it was bleeding out, I had nothing left to grapple onto.

I often spent my classes sealed away, crossing my arms and lingering in my seat. But today I didn’t even look away from the window. The sun slid across my face and while the teacher would go on, I would shut my eyes and pretend that I was anywhere but here. Picture what I would do had I never accepted this; if I never had to worry about it. I hadn’t realised how much I had going for me until now that it was all being taken away. People still looked away from me, wanting nothing to do with me, but there were still possibilities for me that existed outside of this school. Now, it was questionable whether I would make it to the next day.

But as I watched the sun slink behind the clouds, I imagined that none of it existed. I wondered, what would I do? Would I ever look up and raise my hand? Would that convince the teachers that I was smart? Would that prove my capabilities to my class? Would that make Arnold notice me? More than that, had there ever been a possibility that he could love me? Or had I always been destined to watch him from afar? I wasn’t Lila, I reminded myself. I could be Blue Jay, but I was never going to be Lila. And Lila was what he wanted. Girls like Lila. Not me. Never me.

It was ironic that I thought that because right when I did, a shape popped up across my vision and something crashed into my face. I blinked against the fabric that invaded my senses. I had been heading for my next class when it happened. And granted, I hadn’t reacted as fast as I should have. It surprised me that with my reflexes, I could still have moments like this—crashing into someone.

“Oh—sorry!”

Their hands hovered around my shoulders before they stepped backwards and blinking, I found myself looking up at Arnold.

He had been smiling, somewhat sheepishly. But then his eyes went across my features and his eyebrows bobbed in recognition.

“Helga,” he grinned, voice lightening. “Hey.” 

And I looked at him, really looked at him. Traced his face with my eyes. Trying to figure out his game. The last time Arnold had spoken to me had been concerning his feelings for Blue Jay, but before all that, he had never said anything to me unless absolutely necessary. Let alone in the middle of a hallway where everyone was still trying to get to their classes. Why was he suddenly greeting me? Was he just being polite?

He swallowed when I didn’t say anything but forced his grin higher.

“You headin’ to P.E.?”

It made me frown. Yeah, of course I was. “Where else would I be going?”

That last part, I hadn’t actually meant to say out loud. I wasn’t even sure if I had been planning on saying anything to him, or if I was just going to nod and be on my way. But now the words were out and I was stuck with the fallout.

The response surprised him.

He blinked, then rubbed the back of his head.

“Yeah, that’s true,” he admitted with a sheepish laugh.

I expected for him to leave after that, but he didn’t. He stayed there as the space between his brows furrowed and then smoothed. His gaze was hovering across my features. I didn’t have the courage to meet it, so I lowered my attention down to my hands. It wasn’t the big and bad response that was expected of me. But like I said, I was already in a sour mood. My fingers were wrapped around one another as if to hold back the trembles that wanted to race down them. I swallowed to push my words back down. The longer that I stayed beneath his gaze, the higher that my stomach floated into my chest. Pushing heat between my ribs so that it threatened to explode across my face. I eventually found the courage to rise my eyes back to his and when I did, his Adam’s apple bobbed.

His frown then set, and he stepped closer. “Helga . . .”

He trailed off, like he didn’t know how to approach what he wanted to say.

It made me frown.

But then his eyes went over my shoulder and I followed his gaze.

And I heaved a small sigh when I saw his friends heading around the corner. Right. Of course. No wonder he had stopped himself; any longer and they would see him with me. They wouldn’t get the wrong idea, but they would question why it looked like he wanted to talk to me. And Arnold cared about what people thought. It made sense that he wouldn’t want to be seen with me. 

So I left before he could attempt anything else.

And sat on the sidelines during Gym.

Ainsley attempted to approach me several times, but every time, I would shut her down before she could get her question out.

“How abo—”

“No.”

“Yo Pataki, I—”

“No.”

“I can get yo—”

“Still a no, Ainsley.”

It was infuriating. And every time I shot her down, she would swing around to bark out more and more orders at the students on the court. I could feel them sneaking sour glances at me, but by the time the bell rung, I was out the door before anyone could say anything.

Which left me here.

On the roof, finally attempting to—

“Helga, what are you doing?”

My fingers pulled out the item I had been searching for in my bag, but when I pulled it out to reveal that it was my water bottle, I groaned, and chucked the thing over my shoulder. Criminy. How could it be so hard to find a pair of stupid—

Oh.

There they were.

Pulling the item out, I let the bag crumble at my feet as I brandished the pair of high heels above my head. The sun burned bright behind my hand, making my shadow stretch across Nel’s face. She watched with confusion from her spot on the bench.

She looked ready to ask when I quickly bent to slip off my shoes and socks. Nel wrinkled her nose at the sight of my feet, but I ignored her like I always did as I replaced my shoes with the red heels. They were cute, I’ll admit. Cute but impractical. I had never been so grateful to have Olga as a sister. I didn’t wear stuff like this. I was still wearing the worn old converses I’d had since I was thirteen. She, on the other hand, had a thing for shoes. Cute but painful shoes. And these were a snug fit that dug into the back of my ankle. But hey, that was what I needed. Well, in theory that is.

I wobbled when I stood, throwing my hands out to balance myself. Nel didn’t say anything but watched in growing concern. I was thankful for her silence. I was aware of how ridiculous I looked. I didn’t need that coming from someone else outside of my head.

Thankfully, there was no mirror in sight. I couldn’t imagine how awfully these traffic light red pumps clashed with the dark crimson that was our uniform. Not to mention I hadn’t shaved my legs in a while.

Clearing my throat, I rose my nose and pushed back my shoulders. Re–counted the steps that the article had listed. I mentally counted a few seconds before sliding my foot forward and taking a wobbly step. I waited four more seconds before taking another, and then another.

I grinned.

“Helga,” Nel tried again. “What are you doing?”

I was sure that I resembled Bambi taking his first few steps, but I was trying to focus on my triumph of not falling over this time. Shakily, I began pacing up and down to get the hang of this thing, while Nel followed my actions with a turn of her head.

“Tryna get used to heels,” I told her when I had made my third lap.

Her confusion shifted into defeat. She sighed, extra loud, and raised a paw to her face.

I made a face. Grump.

Then, positioning myself, I released a, “KYAH!” and kicked the air—

Thunk!

—and fell straight onto my ass.

Oh, criminy.

Nel didn’t look up to see if I was okay. She just kept her paw shielding her face and turned away.

What great moral support she was.

Grumbling to myself, I shakily climbed back to my feet when—

“What on earth are you doing, Helga?”

I thought it was Nel at first. And I went to bark at her that I had gotten her the first time, when, looking at her, I noticed that her wide eyes were darting to the door behind me. I realised that no, that had not fucking been her. Nel scrambled and stuffed herself into my bag and out of sight. I wheeled around to a pair of confused eyes.

Lila.

She opened her mouth, but my fast actions threw off my balance and I toppled over. My nose smacked the ground and I released a loud, “Ack!” as a hot, throbbing covered the front of my face.

Criminy, could I not go an hour without hurting myself?

Two hands wrapped around my arms to pull me up. Which I know I should have been thankful for. But come on, give me a break. I had just made a fool of myself in front of the most elegant girl in school, the rival for Arnold’s affections. So I snarled and snatched my hands back.

“Lila, what are you doing here?”

She paused at my harshness but answered.

“Well, I wanted to speak with you about the project, but I . . . sorry, but what were you doing?”

My heart suddenly slammed into my chest.

“N–Nothing!” My voice broke and it made Lila blink. “W–What makes y–y–you think that I was doing s–something?!”

And for extra emphasis, I threw around my arms, since I couldn’t actually pace at this current moment.

Her gaze went to my shoes then to the article I had left out on the bench. It was next to my bag so my heart hurtled into my throat when her eyes glazed over the stupid cat curled up and hidden there.

Lila turned back to me. “Are you attempting to walk in heels?”

It shouldn’t have, but it did.

It made me fly into absolute panic mode.

“W–WHAT ON EARTH WOULD GIVE YOU THAT—” my arms were flying around like windmills at this point. So was it a surprise that it made me lose my balance? Lila’s expression stayed the same as I staggered backwards then collapsed onto my back. “—idea.”

The sun filled my vision, blinding me, until she stepped closer. Her shadow fell over my face and I was reluctantly forced to meet her gaze. She cocked a brow even higher. It was absolutely mortifying for her to be standing over me, staring at me like I was her child that she was waiting to confess to eating all the chocolates.

My face burned bright. Perhaps I should take another approach.

“Okay fine,” I admitted with a sigh. “I was trying to learn to walk in them. BUT ONLY BECAUSE OF . . . because of—” Crap. Why was my brain freezing? “—well, NOT FOR THE REASONS YOU’RE THINKING OF!”

There, I thought with a mental little nod. That’ll show her.

Lila, in turn, rolled her eyes.

I balked at the action. She rolled her eyes at me.

She then ducked to help me back to my feet. But I was still feeling bruised and bitter that she had caught me looking so stupid. I batted her hands away and forced myself to stand back on my shaking feet.

She didn’t appear offended that I hadn’t accepted her help. She crossed her arms and scrutinised me. Irritation rose in me as her eyes went across my face. Who was she to march onto my roof and interrogate me?

“Really?” was what she went with.

It made my irritation grow until the heat had covered my face. I wanted to tell her to buzz off and mind her business. But it would look too defensive which would lead to even more questions.

“It must be an ever so urgent reason, Helga, as learning to walk in heels can be quite bothersome.”

The anger in me threatened to burst. I did not care for Lila’s opinions and the more that she spoke, the more that I found my concern for her suspicions were disappearing.

“Well, why don’t you just mind your own—wait, bothersome?” I blinked. “Really?”

 She nodded.

“Wait.” I slowly rose finger to point at her. “You can find something bothersome—I mean, hard?”

Again, she nodded.

I was sure that I shouldn’t be feeling as gleeful as I was, when I learnt that information. But could you blame me? Lila was one of those people who seemed to get everything right the first time that she tried. To learn that she still found it difficult to move around in heels was, for the moment, incredibly gratifying.

“But you’re . . .” I paused, replaying the words in my head. “You’re Lila! You’re, like, the most graceful person to ever!”

Yeah, nice Helga. Real subtle.

And of course, she burst out laughing. Just the thing I needed right now.

“Why, thank you, Helga,” she said eventually when she had settled. She was wiping away some tears as her grin twitched, like she wanted to keep going. “But being graceful whilst in flats is ever so different from being so in heels. It is only on the rarest of occasions that I adorn them.”

“Oh,” I said and looked down. Part of me still didn’t believe it. “Well, what’s the longest you’ve worn them for?”

“Mm,” she looked up in contemplation and tapped her chin. “A couple of hours I presume. But I was sure to take them off when I was sitting and my feet were hidden beneath the table cloth.”

Now that answer should have made me laugh. Crack a smile. Even made the breath in my mouth move a different way. Because Lila, having somewhat of a flaw, was admittedly funny. But if she, the most graceful person I knew, was telling me that she couldn’t wear heels for long, then what hope could I have? I already had blisters. I was always falling over more times than I could count. And I was showing no signs of getting any better.

“Helga?”

I turned away.

I knew that whatever I was feeling, was showing in my eyes. I didn’t know if I was getting worse at lying, or if I was too tired to keep the effort up. But I didn’t need Lila further poking her nose someplace where it wasn’t wanted.

“So, uh,” I swallowed. “You wouldn’t recommend running in them, then?”

“Heaven’s no!” she stepped forward. “Heels are already bad for one’s feet if they’re worn too long, let alone if it includes strenuous activities. They can have nasty effects on other bones in your body.”

I looked at her. “How?”

“Well, it shifts your weight to the balls in your feet. So your knees and hips have to move forward and your back hyperextends backwards,” she explained then wrinkled her nose. “Essentially, it can get really dangerous over time.”

Huh.

“Oh,” was all I could muster. Because truthfully, I wasn’t too worried about my future anymore.

A line appeared between her brows.

“Why are you suddenly so curious about heels, Helga?”

“Um . . .”

She stared at me like she expected the truth to pop out of me if she made me uncomfortable enough. Which she was, by the way. Making me uncomfortable, that is. She continued though. Her eyes scattered across my face, taking in my red cheeks, and a slow grin spread across her face. I didn’t know what had occurred to her but I knew that I didn’t like it.

Smugly, she smiled.

“Is it for a certain someone?”

. . . What.

My brows snapped together and I tried to understand just where her brain was and how it had gotten there. She waggled her eyebrows in return. It flushed me with annoyance. What was she on about? What certain someone—

Oh.

My stomach dropped as his face suddenly filled my mind, that small, overly sweet smile on his face.

“No.”

“Really?” Lila grinned, not taking the hint that I did not want to talk about this. About him. Not with her. “Not even a certain golden–haired boy who stands about yay high—”

“Was there a reason why you’re up here?”

I could barely keep my voice even at this point. I hated nosey people and even more than that, I hated when things were made to involve him. His eyes were a light that rolled across my face and made my knees buckle. Something rose in my throat and a sensation filled me as if needles were puncturing my skin

“Oh, right,” she dropped her gaze then offered me a smile. “Well, yes—it was about meeting up for our assignment. How does this afternoon sound?”

“Sorry, I’m busy.”

Now, this girl, she had just brought up the boy that I loved. Basically rubbed it in my face how ridiculous it was that I wanted to impress him—even though this had nothing to do with him. She had his love locked between her fingers and she wasn’t letting it go. And even if she did, there was no guarantee that I could ever hold it.

And yet, when disappointment crossed her face, I felt guilty. It was strange, feeling something that wasn’t spiteful towards the girl. But we were partners and we really needed to start this assignment.

So, I relented.

“I can do tomorrow,” I told her. So long as there weren’t any attacks, of course.

She raised her eyebrows. “Honestly?”

“Obviously,” I crossed my arms. Choosing to not be offended that my participation surprised her. “We have to start at some point, right?”

“Of course!” She clapped her hands together in success. “Thank goodness. The school will be shut as it’s the weekend, so would you mind meeting me at the public library?”

“Sure,” I nodded. “What time did you wanna start?”

She tapped her chin then snapped her fingers.

“If we get an early start, we get an early finish. So, how about 9:30?”

I wanted to cry. That was so early.

But we really did need to get this thing done.

“Okay.”

“Yes! Thank you, Helga! You won’t regret it, promise!” she spun on her heel with a wave and practically skipped towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

She couldn’t see it, but I returned the wave. I didn’t know why I did. I didn’t even know that I was doing it, until the door had swung shut behind her and Nel had crawled out of my bag. Her eyes lingered on my hand, which I hastily dropped, then she stared at the doors with an unsettled look.

“What’s with you?”

She didn’t answer at first. She kept watching the door like she was trying to make sense of something, before finally shaking her head.

“Nothing, Helga,” she said. “Do you think you can manage so early in the morning?”

Truthfully, I wasn’t sure.

I had been getting up earlier in the mornings and getting to sleep a lot later in the nights. If I got to sleep at all, that is. And that wasn’t including the hours of school and the times that there were attacks. Between it all, it was getting harder to heave myself all around the place. I had cut a deal with Nel that I would catch up on my sleep this weekend. I needed to be on my A–game and I couldn’t do that when I was so tired from everything.

But now, I had to meet Lila across the city so early in the morning. My Sunday was still open, but things were becoming less predictable. You couldn’t guarantee that I wouldn’t be woken up at some point in the night, or that there wouldn’t be multiple attacks throughout the day. Not enough had happened for us to have data to work with. They were basically telling us to jump and we were stuck asking them how high.

“If there aren’t any attacks, then hopefully,” I admitted with a shrug.

And when Nel looked at me, I knew that she disagreed with me. There was a soft press between her eyes like she wanted to say something. But for whatever reason, she didn’t. She stayed silent.

I looked down at my heels.

Whatever. I’m sure that it would work out.

—I ducked away from the claws that slunk into the ground I had been lying in seconds ago. Rolled to my feet, fingers twitching to summon my knife. The Mutant pressed on. Right, left. I dodged and avoided, but my lungs were burning. Prickles hurtled down my arm. Swivelling to the side, I yanked my knife when it shot for me and turned around as the Mutant thrust its claws at me.

I clamped my eyes shut and jerked my knife up. It sunk somewhere into its flesh and my hearing turned into the creature’s wailing. Stomach heaving, bile bubbled up from my throat, and my eyes popped back open.

Its menacing stare burned back, when—

“Blue Jay, look out—”

Pain erupted from the back of my head. Stars shot across my vision as my eyes rolled back, and I fell back into darkness—

“We’re sure gonna miss ya, Olga,” Bob declared later that night. He had his arms wrapped around Olga’s shoulders. She had her chin on his shoulder as she gave yet another dazzling smile to Miriam, who watched with sad eyes. “It won’t be the same without ya.”

And for the twentieth time since getting back, I rolled my eyes. Chin in hand, I watched as Bob and Miriam bid Olga goodbye as she left to return back to college. She had her suitcases waiting by the open door and the car outside was waiting her. From the way they were all carrying on, you would think that she was leaving for the next five years.

My hair was piled at the top of my head in a messy bun to cover the bump. There was still a pounding from my peripherals which painfully flared every time that I blinked. Miriam sniffed, and I gritted my teeth. I normally had no patience for this bullshit anyway, but now that I was injured and exhausted, I was livid at having to participate in it.

“A–Aaare you s–sure you don’t wanna s–stay for another week, honey?” Miriam asked and clasped her hands together.

Again, I rolled my eyes. Yeah no, Olga couldn’t stay here any longer. She had already been here nearly two weeks. Anymore and her attendance would fall too low to count towards a pass. I still wasn’t sure what it was that had pushed her to staying back here in the first place, but whatever it was, she was gonna have to put on her big girl pants on and deal with it.

Olga separated herself from Bob to put her hands on Miriam’s shoulders. She had a smile brighter then what you would catch on a toothpaste commercial. Despite the pain I was already in, looking at it made me want to hurl.

“Oh, it’s fine, mum. I have to leave. Otherwise, college won’t accept if I take any more time off.”

See?

And as expected, Olga’s smile had Miriam melting like butter.

“Such a mature thing,” she cooed. “So sensible and selfless.”

I held my breath behind pursed lips. Olga took Miriam into her arms and as Bob watched them hug, he looked different. He almost looked like a man who loved his wife, and this almost looked like a family. It made something spasm in my chest. The pain that flared was familiar. The kind that I had gotten so used to that it had turned to rust. I suddenly became afraid to suck in another breath because I knew that with it, that rust would flow back into something that I couldn’t stand against. Something that I couldn’t ignore. My jaw tightened. This always happened whenever Olga was in the room—I ceased to exist.

I stood to leave when Olga caught my movements over Miriam’s shoulders.

“Aren’t you going to bid me goodbye, Helga?”

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

She gently pulled herself from Miriam’s arms and held out her hands for me. I wanted to heave at the idea. Needless to say, I’d rather hug a cactus plant over her. And I swear, if she didn’t wipe that stupid smile off her face . . .

“Actually I—”

“Helga!” Bob whipped around to glare at me. “Get over here and hug your sister!”

Of course. He got my name right when it concerned defending his favourite.

But admittedly, I was too tired to argue right now.

Olga’s expression practically sparkled as I slowly climbed back down the stairs. The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight beneath the gazes that Miriam and Bob were sending me. I grimaced when Olga held her arms out wider. Every second that I looked at her fuelled the irritation sitting in my chest.

I ducked beneath her expecting arms to pat on her on the back. I muttered a simple, “Seeya,” before turning back around. I caught the shock that rippled across their faces, their jaws each dropping low. Laughter crawled up my neck and I clamped my lips shut to hold it back. I was marching back up the stairs before anyone could say anything to me. It wasn’t until I made it halfway that Olga was able to finally form a response.

“I–Is that all you’re going to say to me?”

Call me a bitch, but her shock at something not going exactly her way sent a victorious glow shooting through me. It wasn’t much, but it gave me the smallest sense of triumph. I couldn’t hold back the smile that spread across my face as I added over my shoulder, “Have a nice trip.”

Which, given how perfect she was, I’m sure that she would.

“You come back here, little lady!” Bob barked angrily. “And wish your sister a proper goodbye!”

I ignored him.

“Helga? HELGA!”

And slammed my door shut.

Nel gave a start. She had been nesting on a pile of clothes on the floor. I narrowed my eyes at that—I had told her to stay away from my stuff.

“Helga,” she said. “What was that abou—”

I cut her off.

“We need to talk.”

My dreams didn’t give me rest either.

I stood in the middle of a meadow. The grass whispered against my skin and trees circled around with their twisted roots. Stars stretched into comet tails, swirling around me, and the moon sparkled from a dark sky.

I wasn’t alone.

I spun around, searching for a body of any sort. I couldn’t find anyone. I could feel a presence though; it was warm, comforting even. Our hearts were racing in time with one another.

“Are you ready for it?”

I whirled around, but I was still alone. Somehow, I knew the voice and yet, I didn’t.

“What?” my voice spun.

“Are you ready for it?”

I jumped when a hand searched for mine. And grasped it. Their fingers were cold, but a sense of calmness washed over me. The mood was a dull heat that rose beneath my skin. Blue eyes were suddenly crashing into mine.

Thunder rolled past me.

“Let the games begin.”

I jolted awake to a ringing.

It blared in my ears like someone screaming in my face.

Moaning, I shoved the pillow away and hissed when the sunlight through the blinds hit my eyes. Hair slipped around my face, curling across my neck. There was a distinct lack of pain filtering from the back of my head. But still, despite that, I rubbed my fingers in the place where I had been knocked.

I then rubbed my knuckles into my eyes and let out a long yawn. Turning in the direction of the ringing, I realised that it was coming from my phone, which I had buried beneath my pillow. From the back of my throat, I let out the loudest groan that I could muster. Who the fuck was calling me so early?

But because I was a kind and forgiving person, I accepted the call.

“Hello—”

“HELGA!”

The voice jammed right into my ear and I jolted up in surprise. My hand was meant to grip my mattress but caught air instead, so I lost my balance and tumbled out of bed. The ground rose up to crack against my face, pummelling into my poor cheek.

Criminy. So much for sleeping off my injuries.

I hung like that for a moment, half my body over the edge of my bed with my face pressed against my floor. Until eventually the dizzying had stopped and I pushed myself up onto my elbows.

I rubbed my cheek and brought the phone back to my ear. “Lila, you—”

“Where are you?”

I paused, then narrowed my eyes. “Well, I was sleeping.”

There was a pause on her end. Then—

“. . . don’t tell me you slept in, Helga.”

I made a face. Oh, just who did this little redhead think she was?

“Excuse me? Look, Lila, I’ll tell you whatever I please and I—wait, what, slept in?” I glanced at my phone screen, which read 10:08am.

Oh, Jesus.

Rubbing my eyes, I could feel the irritation already simmering. Last night had been a rare time that I could actually afford to sleep. An even rarer occasion that I could sleep in. I still had another few hours before I had to be up which, thanks to my plans to relax being interrupted by a Mutant yesterday, I had planned on taking full advantage of.

“There better be a good reason why you woke me up so earl—”

“We’re supposed to be studying for our biology assignment.”

I opened my eyes which I hadn’t even noticed were shut. “Assignment?”

“Yes, Helga,” she said slowly. “If you’ll remember, we were handed an assignment on Thursday . . . that is due on Monday.”

Oh, well, yes, please Lila! Use that patronising tone. That’ll put me in a good mood!

But then I heard what she had actually said. And groaned. Oh, crap. I had completely forgotten about that stupid assignment. I had actually gone to sleep last night thinking that, for once, I could relax.

But no, of course not. I was mistaken. Oh, what fun this all was.

I made a face. I really, really didn’t want to go. I was still super tired and who knows when my next day off would be.

But . . .

I had made a promise—a stupid promise, but a promise, nonetheless.

“Alright, I’ll be there in twenty.”

That apparently wasn’t good enough for her.

“I mean, it seems pretty packed already and I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to hold a—”

I hung up.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I chucked the phone over my shoulder. I felt rather than heard the soft thunk as it landed in another pile of crumbled clothes. The senses surged down my spine and curled from behind my ears. I shook my face. For how impressive Guardian senses could be, it also made it hard to hone your focus, as it seemed any movement that happened over your shoulder was as loud as a shotgun right against your ear.

Pushing against the ground, I heaved myself back onto my bed and looked around. But I couldn’t find Nel. Which was weird since Nel had been making herself quite at home, sleeping either curled by my side or sometimes even snatching my spare pillow. I got out of bed to look beneath the bed, but still couldn’t find her. I scanned the room for the stupid cat but wherever I looked, I couldn’t find her.

My mind immediately took me to pitchforks and fire. Fuck. Had she been found out? Had Bob discovered the cat—a breed of animal he despised—and flung her out onto the streets? And like a dumbass, she had screamed at him, thus revealing that she could, in fact, talk? So now she was running for her life down the streets as the neighbourhood chased her with their flames and fury?

Then, I realised how dumb that was.

Nel was annoying, but she was independent. She knew when to speak and when not to (in front of other people anyway. She said whatever she liked when it was concerning me). She probably had just gotten up early and went out to scout for things. I had done that plenty of times (ignoring, of course, that this was a cat that we were talking about and those creatures loved sleeping for ridiculous amounts of times).

Yawning, I stretched my arms above my head. Silence surrounded me, which I soaked up. It was becoming a rare event to have time to myself anymore. It always involved talking cats and scary Mutants. I knew that this wouldn’t last long but it was still nice to experience it again.

Raking my fingers through my tangled hair, I stumbled to my vanity and peered into my reflection. I grimaced at what stared back at me.

“Ugh. Criminy.”

It wasn’t long before I was standing beneath the library. A great monolith of concrete and glass. It was one of those buildings that liked to make a grand show of being more important than what it actually was. The staircase would have you thinking that you were entering a grand landmark that had been built three–hundred years ago. And despite this grandiose display of importance, there were still messy scrawls of graffiti. I couldn’t read the derogatory, but I knew that it had been there for a while. No one bothered tidying it up anymore since jackasses kept coming back to spray over the fresh paint.

The sun was hitting the windows in a way where it rebounded from the grass straight into my eye. I held a hand to shield my face.

Ugh.

“Would much rather be fighting a Mutant right now,” I muttered to myself. At least then, I could leave relatively quickly. Who knew how long it was needed that I stay here?

“You very well may get your wish.”

The voice made me squeak which was awkward because I was still in public. People were lingering at the stop lights, along the streets and outside the doors. All turned to glance at me strangely and I blushed. Yeah, great one, Pataki.

Still, I thought, lowering my gaze to where the voice had come from. My messenger bag. I scrunched my face then pulled open the flap.

What the . . .

“Nel!” I hissed under my breath, then quickly zoomed to the bushes at the edge of the stairs. Some people made surprised noises and jumped out of my way, but I didn’t look up until I was safely tucked away from their sight.

Now, let me get this straight: I was not pleased to see Nel. Sure, I had a mild panic that she had gotten her dumb ass thrown out this morning. But now, she had managed to sneak her way into my bag and made me look like a fool. I hated looking like a fool. And screaming at nothing then conversing with messenger bags while sitting in the bushes constituted as looking like a fool.

“What’re you doing here?” I demanded in a hushed voice. I looked over my shoulder but thankfully, most people weren’t looking over at the teenager crouched in the bushes, talking to her cat. But unfortunately, the people who did, caught my eye then ducked their faces to speed away.

I released a scoff then turned my glare down to the cat.

“I’ve been getting odd vibes from this place lately,” Nel answered, eyeing the library.

I rose my eyebrows. “What, you mean a Mutant?”

“Worse,” she looked at me with a grimace. “A Wraith.”

. . . Oh.

Oh.

‘They are unlike regular Mutants in that they disguise themselves perfectly reminiscent of humans. Unlike Mutants, Wraiths do not outright attack their victims, they feed off their happiness.’

Shit.

“You’re kidding.”

“I do not kid, Helga.”

I snorted. “You’re telling me.”

Her ears twitched, but she continued.

“I think this Wraith in particular is plotting to use this library to harvest the energy from people, so I’m to investigate for any peculiar behaviour,” she turned back to me. “Thankfully, you were already on your way here.”

And so it hadn’t occurred to her to tell me that I’d be carrying her sleepy ass across town? My shoulder had been killing me.

I was about to call her out on this when something else occurred to me.

“Hey, wait, you said that it feeds off happiness,” I pointed out.

She glanced at me. “Yes?”

“Well, case closed, there can’t be a Wraith here,” I crossed my arms with a victorious grin. She didn’t respond, so I added. “Who’d be happy in a library?”

“Lots of people, Helga,” she said with a defensive smile.

“There are happier places.”

“Doesn’t take away from the happiness of this place.”

“Oh, yes,” I gestured to a guy who had been passing the library. He took one look at the stairs, made a noise then spat out a fat gob of saliva that dripped down the cement. “Yes, totally happy. I can see that.”

Nel made a face at that. “Humans . . .”

Bing!

Before I could say anything, there was a rattling in my back pocket. I shot Nel another look then pulled the phone out to read the message.

[Lila]: you here yet?

Rolling my eyes, I typed out a quick response.

[Helga]: Yeah. Heading in.

I shoved my phone back into my jeans then frowned at Nel.

She frowned back.

“Well, hurry up and get investigating,” I said and tugged on the straps to edge her out. “I’ve got my own job for the day.”

Nodding, she hopped out from my bag and landed near my feet.

Sighing, I rubbed my tender shoulder then shoved against the bushes to head into the library.

Oh, and Helga, Nel called. I turned back around with a questioning look. Keep your eyes peeled sharp for any suspicious behaviour.

I nodded.

Roger.

But that didn’t necessarily mean I knew what I was doing.

Because for all the bravado that I had, it was still pretend. And Nel may have spent nights explaining to me what I should be looking for and what it could mean if I failed, but that didn’t mean that I actually knew what I was looking for. So when I entered the building, I truly had no idea what I was supposed to be doing.

So, I did what I did best—I pretended. I pulled up my hoodie and marched across the rows and rows of lined up books. I had my eyes trained on the tables where noses were buried in books and pens were scribbling across paper. It stumped me slightly. Everyone seemed normal, but I guess, that was the point. They looked exactly like everyone else. How was I supposed to work with that?

I shoved my fists into my pockets. How did Nel even know what she was looking for? And would it kill her to let me in on the secret?

The hairs on my neck suddenly straightened.

Looking up, my eyes landed on a table where five teenagers sat—three girls and two boys. One of the boys was talking to an older speckled woman, probably the librarian. Her hair was pulled tight into a bun at the top of her head and her features were so sharp that she resembled a crow.

Suddenly, one of the girls—a redhead with shaggy bangs—glanced up in my direction. I didn’t exactly want to get caught staring like a weirdo, so I made to turn away when her eyes narrowed and I found myself being glared at.

My jaw dropped.

I expected for her to look away, but she didn’t. Her glare became hotter. She didn’t care that she had been caught—she continued to watch me. I wanted to shout at her to bugger off but that probably would’ve gotten me kicked out seeing as the librarian was standing right there. And I still had an assignment to start, regardless of the Wraith. So I had much higher priorities then this little weirdo who couldn’t keep her eyes to herself.

A force suddenly slammed into me, knocking me into one of the bookshelves. I yelped as arms wrapped around my neck, pulling my face down to a beaming expression.

“Hey, Helga!” she said. “Glad you could finally make it.”

I rolled my eyes. Lila.

“Yeah, yeah—I’m here.” I shoved her away and felt my hoodie slip from my face. “Get offa me.”

The librarian looked up with a nasty glare. She located us and held up a long, bony finger to her thin lips.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Lila grimaced and sent her an apologetic look. I rolled my eyes again, but it seemed to satisfy the librarian. She turned back to the boy she had been answering and the redhead girl finally looked down. But I didn’t miss the way that her eyes lingered on Lila.

I narrowed my eyes. What was her problem?

“We were growing ever so distraught about you,” Lila whispered, turning back to me.

I was surprised with how bright–eyed and energetic she appeared. Considering she was, you know, talking to me and all. Not to mention, the last time I had spoken to her, she had seemed annoyed that I had forgotten about our plans.

She, of course, looked fantastic today.

Her hair was pulled from her face into a braid that ran down her shoulder like a fiery rope. She had a thick, woollen cardigan that was much too big for her and a flowery teal dress with a Peter Pan collar.

I looked down at my stained and old hoodie in comparison. Something curled in my chest at the complete lack of care I had thrown in today. Not that I placed much care into my clothes to begin with. But I hadn’t gotten the time to shower, so I had to quickly brush my hair, put on deodorant and pick out whatever was available to me. I had stuffed on a pair of baggy jeans and a big shirt that still had a ketchup stain on it. I wasn’t exactly runway material but standing next to Lila only made me feel more hideous.

“Sorry about that, Lila,” I admitted in a somewhat surprising show of honesty. “I slept in and I—wait, we?”

She shrugged with a grin that seemed significantly less innocent, then motioned over her shoulder.

Looking in that direction, I froze in horror.

Oh, fuck.

Feeling my gaze, they both looked up with distinctly different reactions. Gerald rolled his eyes so hard that they almost locked in his skull. He was elbowed for his rudeness, so releasing a scoff, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. And Arnold—oh, criminy—gave me a smile bright enough to make snow look dull.

Abort, abort, abort!

“I . . . you . . . the—”

“I’m sorry, I hope you don’t mind, but I bumped into them looking confused over the same assignment,” Lila explained, clasping her hands together. But if I didn’t know any better, I would say that the shakiness in her voice was from amusement rather than guilt. “I figured four minds were better than two, right? Besides, it was getting hard to turn others down for a reserved seat when there was only one of me.”

I wanted to curse at her. I wanted to yell at her. I wanted to smack her. I’d agreed to meeting up with Lila, my partner. Instead, I was handed a Wraith to look out for and now, a boy.

And I still couldn’t find my voice.

“I . . . I . . . well . . .”

Oh, come on!

“Come on, Helga,” she then snatched my hand and began pulling me in the direction of the table. “We’ve got an awful lot of studying ahead of us.”

Now, here’s the thing: I was a superhero. I was a Guardian. I was freaking Blue Jay. You would think that I would pull away from this girl who barely even reached my chin in height. I had torn off door handles, crushed metal and knocked Mutants back with my fists. I was more than capable of fighting back. And yet, I didn’t. Because that was the thing about Arnold: he made me weak. He made me forget and when I forgot, I just stood there, looking like an idiot.

So I was basically a puppet for Lila to play with. I didn’t fight it, I couldn’t. I just let her pull me along to meet my fate.

Crap.

This was bad. This was very, very bad. I hadn’t mentally prepared for this—for him. How could Lila do this to me? We weren’t friends (in fact, we were enemies), but still. Who knows what I’d say? What if the old Helga managed to slip out and I said something really, really mean? Not something small like ‘football head’, but like ‘wow, you’re so stupid, Arnold, even I can spell katsaridaphobia’. He would get offended and then never speak to me again. Or worse, what if he did and was like, ‘Oh, yeah? Then if you’re so smart, what’s the negative square root of 169?’ And because I don’t know anything about math, I won’t be able to answer and I’ll look like a dumbass. And because Gerald is a whiz at that stuff, he would butt in like, ‘Why, it’s –13, Arnold! Only a dummy wouldn’t know that!’ And because I’d be so humiliated, I’d blurt out, ‘I love you, Arnold!’ then Lila and Gerald and the entire library would gasp in disgust and then Arnold would gasp in disgust and be like, ‘I could never love someone as stupid as you, Helga Geraldine Pataki!’ then leave and never talk to me again. But he would tell everyone at school and they would all point and laugh at me and then Mrs. Brown would tie me to a chair and make me go over all her textbooks and it would go on and on, to the point that Acantha could take over the world, then Serec would laugh at me, tell everyone that I have no powers, and then they would throw food at me which would include strawberries and then I would break out into hives and I would die.

 Abortabortabortabortabortabort—

Lila abandoned me when we got to the table. Of course. She took the seat next to Gerald which left the only available seat between herself and . . . Arnold.

Bitch.

She totally set this up. It wasn’t good enough that Arnold was in love with her, she needed to show him that I also didn’t know how to math.

Arnold flashed me a smile. “Hey, Helga.”

Crap. Fuck, fuck. Why was I so bad at maths? I didn’t know anything.

“Erm, Helga?”

I blinked, realising that I had been staring at him. And he seemed closer than before. Why was he closer?

Oh, had he—

I glanced down.

Yep. He had.

The stupid, beautiful idiot had risen from his chair to greet me. It made something rush in my chest, hammering until my knees were shaking. His eyes connected back with mine with enough force that I wanted to collapse (be pleased to know that, despite wanting to, I did not, in fact, collapse). His gaze crept over my face and I suddenly became overly aware that I had not showered this morning. I had been so excited for that bath last night, but I was too exhausted to even bother running the water. And Lila, of course, got to me before I could even think about jumping into the shower this morning. So, I not only looked like a slob, I probably smelled like one too. And though there was still a considerable distance between us, there was no disguising like there usually would have been. If I had toothpaste on my face and Lila had neglected to inform me—because, you know, evil—he would know. He would know before I could. And then I would die.

Speaking of Lila, Arnold’s behaviour seemed to amuse her. She looked at him and her eyebrows bobbed in recognition. It made me squint with suspicion. Why was she deriving so much amusement from this situation? Was this another set up?

. . . Or, Helga, maybe it was because you were still staring at him without actually answering. Crap. I probably looked like a freak. I needed to greet him and move on!

“Uhh . . .”

Never mind.

Gerald made a face and muttered something underneath his breath. Lila kept smiling but elbowed him in the ribs. He yelped, rubbing the area, but paused when he found that he was the centre of attention.

He sighed, reluctantly looking at me. “Hey, Pataki.”

“Tall hair boy,” I nodded curtly.

His jaw clenched.

I glared at him.

He glared back.

Arnold and Lila exchanged glances.

“Erm, if you would like to take a seat, Helga,” Lila gestured to the seat. My seat. You know, next to Arnold. “We can get started on this assignment.”

Arnold sent me another grin that made my cheeks burn. And with Lila in her seat, it was only us who were standing there—awkwardly. He gestured down at the seat that he had pulled out for me. I tried to ignore the fluttering in my chest. Gosh, he was such a gentleman.

But then I noticed the discarded books that had been tossed on the table.

I frowned. “Uh, why so many?”

“We didn’t know where we should be starting,” Arnold admitted as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “So we just kinda grabbed whatever looked like it was useful.”

The face I pulled must’ve been pretty ugly because he chuckled when he saw it. The heat exploded in my neck, strangling me with its intensity.

I sought escape through glancing up at the clock.

10:57am.

Sighing, I collapsed in my seat.

Arnold followed my actions, sitting next to me. His sleeve brushed against my knuckles and something hiked itself into my throat.

I reached for the closest book.

“Criminy, let’s just get this over with.”

We didn’t speak for a while after that.

Which should have been a major plus, considering the idea of talking with Gerald made me want to claw my ears off. But the silence was only making me realise how tired I still was. Fog was filling my head, until it became harder and harder to keep my eyes open. I had screwed my lips shut to hold the yawn back.

Rubbing my face again, I stared down at the sentence that I’d re–read three times now.

The yawn made it out anyway.

Lila looked up from her own page and giggled. “Tired?”

“Yeah, surprisingly.” Rolling my neck, I looked to the clock and groaned. “It’s only eleven–thirty.”

Gross.

“You’re kidding,” Gerald groaned. He stretched his arms above his head until there was a crack, releasing a yawn. “Geeze, it feels like it’s been hours since we’ve started.”

“Tell me about it,” Arnold said with a sigh. His nose wrinkled and he rose his hand to rub his temples. I stopped, it occurring to me how gorgeous his fingers were. Which, I know, that sounds weird, right? How could fingers be gorgeous–looking? But trust me on this one. I knew good looking fingers when I saw them. And Arnold’s were magnificent. They were long and slender with beautifully shaped nails at the end.

He must have noticed my ogling because he blinked and turned to face me. And criminy, his eyes. So warm and tranquil. They were like leaves with golden sunlight filtering through them. I could feel myself drowning in his beauty.

“—okay, Helga?”

His forehead had creased. Loose strands were falling into his eyes as he tilted his face slightly. As he did, light climbed over his freckles. A thudding filled my chest. He was the prettiest sight I had ever seen. I was so dazzled that I barely even noticed that he had inched closer.

And before I was even aware, I had blurted out, “You have really pretty fingers.”

. . .

Oh. My. God.

Please tell me. I did not just say that.

I was humiliated. I was traumatised. Disgraced. I couldn’t believe that I had said that. To his face, let alone in front of everyone. The weight of their attention had become unbearable, I was looking around before even realising. Gerald had frozen in his seat and watched in a very, very stunned silence. I had hoped that Lila could help me out, but she looked so astonished and utterly helpless that I knew that even she couldn’t butt in on this one. The pounding in my throat was so hard, that I could feel a bruise developing. Crap. How bad was it when even Lila couldn’t poke her nose into something?

My stomach sunk so deep that I’d have to shit it out. People were going to remember this day for the rest of my life. They were going to whisper it even as I ate my mush in the nursing home. They were going to bring it up when laying a rose down on my grave. They were going to make songs about it to pass onto different generations. I was beyond fucked.

That’s it—I had to leave. Before Arnold could tell the world. I had to leave Hillwood. I would dye my hair, change my name and start off somewhere new. I remembered my aunt’s address, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind taking me in.

I was mentally already packing up to bolt when, turning back in Arnold’s direction, I caught a glimmer in his eye that I couldn’t distinguish.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod—this was it. He was going to call me a creep. He was going to curse my bloodline. He was going to run out of the library, yelling about the freaky weirdo who apparently had a thing for fingers. And hands. And arms. And his eyes. This was it. Goodbye, cruel world!

“Why thank you, Helga,” he said instead.

It stumped me. Thank you. Thank. You. Was that code for something? And was he actually smiling at me for . . . being a creep? I could only stare at him like an idiot (which was how I always stared at him, so he probably thought that this was my permanent face). Seriously on the brink of hyperventilating. Was he seriously thanking me for staring at his fingers? Was the bar that low when it concerned me?

There was no way to interpret his response as a compliment. So, I did what any girl would do in that situation: I turned away from him and acted like nothing had ever happened. Because if there was one thing I was good at, it was lying.

“Whatever.” Was my grand, epic dialogue. Riveting, I know. And aside from the intense heat in my cheeks, I’m sure I would’ve gotten away with it. You know, if it wasn’t for that meddling Lila, who thought this was downright hilarious. She had her fingers pressed into her mouth to keep back her laughter, but some sounds managed to escape. And when I turned to her, her face was pink from trying to contain herself.

See what I mean? Evil. She totally enjoyed it when I made a fool of myself.

“So, how many notes have you gotten, Helga?” she asked, changing the subject.

I scowled. Oh, great. So now she decided to save me.

But, eager to switch topics, I glanced at my near empty page and groaned. “Basically nothing. You?”

She sighed. “It’s the same for me, I’m afraid.”

I turned to Gerald (I refused to look at Arnold again). He swallowed his surprise from before and shook his face to my silent question.

I buried my face into my palms. “We’re getting nowhere with these dumb books.”

“Why can’t we just google the answers?” I heard Gerald ask.

“Mrs. Belmonte requested we receive our information from sources outside of the internet,” Lila answered.

I looked at her in bemusement. “She doesn’t have to know if we get our resources from the internet.”

Lila—the goody two shoes—looked positively offended that I even suggested that we break—or bend, depending on who you ask—the rules.

Clearing his throat, Arnold decided to step in. “She’ll be checking them thoroughly.”

I wanted to shoot him a sceptic look at that, but I was still reeling from before. So, instead, I quietly snorted and looked down to my page, praying that he wouldn’t continue.

But, because he’s Arnold, he did anyway. “We have to list our references at the end.”

And while he said that, his shadow was creeping toward my elbow. He was moving closer to give his explanation. It sent my pulse rushing until it was lodged in my throat and burning my ears. It made me want to huff. There he went again, being oblivious to his actions and the affect they had on me. I knew that if I spoke, something would happen to my voice and I would sound pathetic. And I had already made a complete idiot of myself, I didn’t wish to do it again.

So, subtly, I tried inching away. Not by a lot since I knew Gerald and Lila were watching. But I moved my other elbow onto the table and made a sour face as I planted my chin in my palm. It made it seem like I was leaning away because I was annoyed at the situation, rather than trying to avoid Arnold’s gorgeous, gorgeous face. Because who knew what I would’ve said if I had looked up to meet his gaze?

Still, I couldn’t help murmuring, “At this point, we’ll only get two.”

He didn’t say anything, but I could imagine him twisting his lips at my pessimism.

But then, the crow–faced librarian’s head popped out from around the bookshelves. She had a nasty look and shushed us before disappearing back around the shelves. Arnold turned his gaze to his blank page, cheeks turning slightly pink. Gerald merely rolled his eyes.

But Lila’s face lit up. “Hey, that’s an idea.”

We glanced at her questioningly, but she merely smiled and stood from her seat.

“I’ll be back,” she told us before disappearing around the corner the librarian had come from.

It made me want to cry.

Because here was the thing: did I like Lila? No. She was too nosey and too formal and too perfect for my liking. Not to mention the whole, “love of my life is in love with her and notices her” thing. Kinda took the steam outta the boat. But. For as annoying as she could be, she also meant that I wouldn’t be alone with the boys.

Which I now was.

Discomfort folded over me and I shifted in my seat. The action made Arnold look up and his eyes found mine. I turned away before I could think too much about it. But I was already blushing like a sunburn. It irritated me. Come on. I was a Guardian, for Christ’s sake. I could scale up walls, heal from stab wounds in hours and lift Mutants several times my size. I was literally a superhero. How was I still such a loser?

Get a hold of yourself, Pataki.

His stare had turned scrutinising and it made heat climb up my collar before exploding across my face. I tried acting like it wasn’t there—his stare. I shifted my position slightly, turned my head and tapped against the table. And when that didn’t work, I propped up my textbook to block his face from my view. But his eyes had always had that effect on me. It collected over my fingers like dewdrops until my head was swimming.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “So, um, Helga—”

I peered over the top of the book and flushed all over again when I encountered those gorgeous eyes. He was rubbing his neck and his stare suddenly seemed a lot shyer. I looked away to a random corner so I wouldn’t get caught up in his beauty again.

Gerald groaned at the awkwardness and held his book up higher to escape the situation.

“W–Why so late?” Arnold asked.

My gaze snapped to his. “What?”

His cheeks reddened.

“You got here pretty late,” he explained. “I was just wondering why . . . sleep in?”

“What’s it to you, football head?”

The words were out before I had even registered them. Crap. Why did that always happen around him?

He grimaced and for a moment, I felt bad.

Gerald’s eyes snapped in my direction. He looked ready to say something when Arnold shot him a look then nervously smiled at me.

“Nothing. Just curious.”

Yeah. Of course.

I crossed my arms.

“If you must know, Arnoldo, then yes, I did sleep in.”

Now, normally, the thought of Arnold paying this kind of attention to me would’ve had me psyched. I hated nosiness, but I didn’t mind when it came from him, because it was easy to pretend that it meant that he cared. But right now? I was mostly annoyed. Was it that shocking to learn that sometimes, I could get caught up in my own life? That I didn’t have endless amounts of time to give to people? Not even mentioning that I actually was carrying a life or death secret. Besides, what business was it of his anyway? I wasn’t even his partner.

Probably is protecting Lila, my conscience whispered.

Ah. Right. Forgot about that.

“Ah,” Arnold leaned in the tiniest bit. “Why’s that?”

The anger was building and simmering beneath my skin. I had to fight back against the words that wanted to unleash themselves like bullets. I didn’t care if he was protecting Lila, he didn’t need to interrogate me when I was already here. It was an honest mistake, but I was here now. What was the big deal?

“Does it matter?” I snapped.

His face fell a little.

I expected to feel guilty but instead, the irritation stayed.

So, of course, Gerald had to make it all better by butting in.

Oh, what fun.

“I mean, considering you made Lila wait around for an hour,” he began, putting down his book, “Maybe it matters a little.”

Arnold glanced at him. “Gerald . . .”

I rose a brow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Arnold looked between us then tried to deescalate the situation.

“Gerald, it doesn’t matter, I was just curious. And, I mean, she came eventually, right?”

Ouch.

I knew that Arnold hadn’t meant that maliciously. But the backlash still hurt like a bitch. Were the expectations really that low that my showing up actually counted as a victory? Just what did he think of me?

But I pressed on before it could show on my face.

“Right. Exactly. I showed up, didn’t I?” But the way that Gerald scoffed only made me angrier. “And last time I checked, Lila was my partner. You should focus on your own. If Lila has a problem, she can address it with me rather than getting her nosey parker bodyguards to speak on her behalf.”

That made Gerald’s eyes flash as a muscle jumped in his jaw. It didn’t bother me that he had been affected by my words. It’s what I had been hoping for. To turn my words into spears that forced him to back off.

But then, Arnold looked at me and the hurt in his eyes was an arrow to my chest.

That was something that the old Helga would have said.

His lips parted as his gaze swept over my face. “Helga, I—”

“Fair enough then,” Gerlad interrupted. Arnold sighed in exasperation, but I just rose an eyebrow. Leaning his jaw on his fist, Gerald peered at me. “You still haven’t answered Arnold’s question though.”

I eyed him. “What question?”

“Why were you so late?”

His words rushed through me so fast that my mind was left spinning. Fuck. He wasn’t going to let it go, was he? Was anyone? I never thought I would be in a situation like this—where I would have to be giving an explanation as to where I was. That wasn’t exactly a common occurrence in my life. It was easy to sink backwards into the shadows because people didn’t care to find me.

“Did it have something to do with you abandoning Phoebe?” he continued and raised a brow.

My jaw dropped. Was he serious?

Arnold tried intervening. “Gerald—”

The librarian stuck her face out around the shelves again. “Shhhhhhhh!”

Arnold blushed, dropping his gaze until she disappeared again.

There was a pulse in my wrists. It felt like someone had rubbed salt into my eyes. I averted my gaze to the books in an attempt to regain some control over myself. I could feel a lump rising in my throat, and pressed my lips together to make sure something wouldn’t leave without permission.

“I didn’t abandon her,” I eventually said.

“You’ve been avoiding her.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Bullshit.”

His words were a crack of thunder. I could feel my heart rolling down to my knees as a sensation twisted in my throat. The air suddenly became fabric that had been pulled so tight that the cloth was beginning to tear. It wanted to make my heart cave until it was cracking open. The future was weighing on my shoulders and I knew that one day, eventually that weight would become too much. It would splinter my bones before breaking me completely. I needed people away from me when it happened. It was an easier task than I cared to admit since I could count on one hand how many people cared enough to hang around me. But that list always had Phoebe at the top.

“Helga,” Arnold’s eyebrows drew together as he stared at my hands. Even Gerald looked like something had dawned on him. “You’re shakin—”

I slammed my hands flat onto the table and shot up from my chair. The boys jumped from the sudden action. My face was contorting with my anguish, but I fixed my eyes onto Gerald. Pretended like I wasn’t forcing tears back.

“What goes on in my life—” I hissed. “—is none of your concern.”

Gerald’s surprise hardened defensively. “But what hurts her is.”

He said the words, then looked surprised at them. Like he didn’t realise their depth until now.

Silently, I studied him. The way that he scrunched his face as he mentally berated himself over managing to let something slip out. The way he lowered his eyes as embarrassment burned in his cheeks. He liked her. Maybe even more.

I wanted to sigh.

I had never liked Gerald. So it hurt to admit this, but his feelings were a relief. He would take care of her. He would keep her safe.

“She’s been speaking with you, then?” I asked him.

“Um,” he nodded. “Yeah.”

I nodded, then spun on my heel to walk away.

There was some shuffling, like someone was making to follow me, but no one ever came.

Lila, who had been heading back to our table with more books, stopped when she saw me. The smile dropped from her face.

“Helga, where’re yo—”

“Bathroom.”

Abandon.

That had been the word he had chosen. Not protect, not left, nor avoid—abandon.

I was abandoning my best friend.

Sure, I could call it avoidance. Remind myself that I was doing this for her, but in all its naked glory, it was nothing but sanctified abandonment.

Legs hugged to my chest, I struggled to control my breathing.

I was abandoning my best friend.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Why was I like this? Why did I always act like this? I blinked hard against the tears. For fuck’s sake.

I was alone.

This was stupid. I knew that. Of course it was. I had decided that to keep Phoebe safe, I had to ease out of her life. I had made my mind up, over and over and over again. This was the only way forward. Something could happen to me at any moment and I didn’t want her getting caught in the crossfire.

Why was it hurting like this then?

Phoebe hanging with Gerald was a good sign. Marvellous. It hurt like a bitch, but Gerald chewing me out was good. He wanted to protect her. He cared so much for her. He was still an asshole, but to her, he was kind and gentle. That was what she needed.

But, I couldn’t help the burden churning in my chest. Because as good as he was for her, the more I realised that I was getting replaced.

“Helga?”

And, of course. As if things couldn’t get any better. Here comes Lila.

I clamped my mouth shut.

When had she gotten here? Not that it mattered. I was out of patience.   

Rubbing my face, I ignored the wetness on my cheeks and tried thinking of something else. I settled on my Monday timetable: French, World History then Algebr—

“Helga?” there was a soft knock on my stall. “I know you’re in there.”

I wanted to sigh. This girl couldn’t take a hint, could she?

I was tempted to not say anything at all. But Lila seemed to have a track record for ignoring my boundaries. It might just be easier to get this over and done with.

“How—” I cleared my throat. Lowered my eyes to her boots poking out from beneath the door. “How’d you know?”

She chuckled, immediately knowing what I was referring to.

“It’s the only stall in use.”

Oh.

“Great.”

She laughed, but this time, it was forced sounding.

There was a pause before she turned around, leaning back against the door.

“Arnold told me about what happened,” she said in a softer voice. I shut my eyes with a quiet sigh. “I’m sorry for what Gerald said. I know he can seem harsh. He is just very protective of his fri—”

“What makes you think that I care about what stupid tall hair boy says about me?” I interrupted her. “I’ve never liked him, nor have I cared about what he has to say. He can keep his stupid dream team, I don’t want shit to do with them.”

Which was harsh. I knew that. Way harsh. It shouldn’t have bothered me because I was a harsh person. And yet, with every word that I said, I could feel my heart sinking further and further into my stomach. It was like it couldn’t bear the weight of my cruelty. My lungs were aching and my throat burning. It was a type of pain that I couldn’t run away from, so I tried to mediate with it. Shutting my eyes and burying my face into my knees. But the hurt only became stronger and threatened to turn everything in my chest into dust.

“Helga . . .”

But I still didn’t want her pity.

“If you don’t mind, I have some business to finish up in here—” I cringed, but didn’t take it back. “And I’d rather I be alone.”

The silence came back and when it did, there was a roaring that filled my ears. I opened my eyes to Lila’s stockings beneath the cubicle. Zig–zagged lines of white stacked with crimson, olive and burnt orange. It was such a hideous pattern and yet oddly comforting. It reminded me of Christmas—or, at least, how Christmas was supposed to feel.

“Okay,” she finally said. She straightened from the door. “If . . . if you’re sure.”

I swallowed. “Positive.”

“Right, I’m . . . I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

She walked away and when the door swung open, a panic hit me. It was surprising, but I suddenly found myself hoping that I hadn’t upset her. Which was weird, because it was Lila and Lila had always been annoying and nosey. I had never cared what she thought about me, why was I suddenly worried that she had finally begun believing what everyone else had about me? That she was sat out there, with Gerald, taking his opinion as fact. Maybe because it would confirm what they both thought—how cruel–hearted I was.

“Oh, and Helga—” Lila said, then paused. “I, um . . . I know you might think of us as nosey parkers—” she chuckled. “Which you might be right about. But the only reason we are is because . . . you hide. You hide so much and you think that we can’t tell, but we know better. We can tell that whatever it is that you’re going through, it’s killing you inside.”

What?

My eyes snapped open. How did—

The door banged shut.

Leaving me alone.

I hung there for a moment, unsure of what to think. How to feel. What had she meant by that? Could she see through me, this entire time? Was that why everyone was asking me questions? I thought I had been holding everything to my chest. But if she could tell then . . . could they see everything? Could everyone see everything? I moved a hand to my neck. The skin tinged from the memory. I still woke up in the middle of the night, dreaming of when his hands had been wrapped around me, carving bruises into my neck. If they could tell, then surely he—

“Helga?”

I wanted to groan. Are you kidding me?

“Oh,” I glared at the shut door. “Go away.”

She didn’t respond.

Instead, Nel’s face popped out from beneath the stall.

I shrieked.

“What are you doing?!” I demanded in a hushed type of yell. “I could have been busy!”

Nel had the nerve to roll her eyes at that. She crawled underneath the door to sit below me. I quickly wiped away the wetness from my face, before she pinned me with that stupid determined glare of hers.

“I’ve managed to pinpoint the area the Wraith is choosing to remain in.”

I blinked. “Wait, really? Well, that’s great! What do we do, pummel it before it can attack?”

“Not so fast, Helga,” she frowned. “I still haven’t located exactly who it is.”

I deadpanned. “Seriously? We’ve been here almost a whole hour!”

Eh, closer to half an hour, but the point still stood.

She scowled.

“Forgive me, Helga, but it’s been quite a spell since I’ve had to find a Wraith. They are quite talented at blending in with regular people.”

Oh, brother. I sighed and rubbed the side of my face. This was just bad news on top of bad news. Was it too much to ask for normal problems?

My reaction—or rather, the lack of one—seemed to piss Nel off.

“Well, this would be easier if I had assistance from a certain someone,” she scolded.

Now that got my attention.

“Oh?” I leaned in further with a smirk. “You need my help?”

“Assistance.”

I rolled my eyes but still grinned.

“Fine, fine, whatever.” Leaning back, I crossed my arms. “So, what area did you pinpoint this asshole to?”

She hesitated. “Yours.”

“Now, Helga, don’t do anything rash—”

I slammed my hand against the door and when it swung open, I marched back into the library. Sharp claws were digging into my shoulder as Nel struggled to hang onto me. We were back in the public so she had to switch to speaking telepathically to calm me down.

Not that I was listening.

I had often been accused of being melodramatic. And theatrical. Sometimes even, histrionic. And sure, there were times where I sometimes lost it and jumped to unreasonable conclusions. But now was not one of those times, despite what Nel was implying. No, I was completely calm and rational and collected . . . I was also running.

Why are you running?! Nel glanced at the librarians who were glaring at us. You’ll get us kicked out—

I skidded to a stop.

Nel’s eyes popped open and she had to dig her claws in deeper to stop herself from flying off. I bit down on my tongue to stop myself from screaming. Not that I really cared that much if I happened to scream. Or if I got chucked out. What I did care about was that nasty little hussy who was leaning over Arnold’s desk.

I quickly dived behind the closest bookshelf. Nel let out a strangled cry from the movement (which I ignored). Crouching behind a well–concealed shelf, I gripped the edge to peer around and keep track of my table.

I opened my mouth to make a comment when someone cleared their throat. I looked to my left to find a nerdish–looking boy with scruffy hair and baggy jeans, scowling at me.

Nel stiffened, worried that she had been caught talking (not my fault by the way. She should have kept her trap shut). But his eyes were never leaving my face. And he didn’t exactly look like he had witnessed a cat releasing expletives. He looked like he had been trying to read his lame book when a shrieking girl had interrupted him.

He made a rude gesture for me to keep quiet.

So I did the mature thing and stuck out my tongue before ignoring him, going to actually important matters.

There was a girl talking to Arnold. I recognised her. She was the girl who had been glaring at me before. And she was cute. I wanted to cry. Her hair slipped down her back like champagne and her face was done up in subtle shimmers. She was a natural beauty, the type that came to mind when you thought of the Girl Next Door.

And she was stood way too close to Arnold, practically pressing her entire weight into his shoulders. Her eyes were tracing across his face as she smiled her perfectly white teeth at him. Thankfully, he seemed oblivious to her advances. Her dress dipped down her chest, but his eyes stayed on her face as he chatted to her about something.

Unlike Gerald, who appeared very red. He was sat across from Arnold, so her cleavage was in his direct line of sight. Although, to his credit, he was doing his best to keep his eyes away from that part of her.

And Lila watched this all with a troubled expression.

“She’s a Wraith.”

“How on earth—” shooting the nearby boy a cautious glance, Nel lowered her voice. “Can you tell so quickly?”

“It’s obvious.” I narrowed my eyes when the girl giggled way too hard at something Arnold had said. He kept smiling at her, but his eyebrows furrowed in his confusion. Now, I know what you may be thinking: maybe he told her a joke. And yeah, true. Maybe, he had. But then, she lightly smacked his bicep and I knew that no, he hadn’t. Nothing he said could be that funny. “Look at her hanging onto him like he’s the last scoop of a triple chocolate at the Sundae Saloon while Lila and Gerald are both the rum & raisins. It’s sick, I tell you.”

Nel stared at me. “What?”

“And just look at how she’s smiling at him—” I gasped when the girl gave Arnold’s bicep a squeeze. He blinked and she scooped her hair back with a mischievous wink. “Oh, that bitch.”

It then occurred to me that I should be checking on that nerdy boy. But when I did, I found him looking at me like I had wrapped a tutu around my head and started singing American Idiot. He thought I was a freak.

I flushed then turned back to Arnold’s table.

Neither Nel or I said anything until we were certain that the boy had turned back to his boring book.

“Anyway, everyone around her is totally acting bizarre,” I pointed out in a whisper. “She’s obviously bad news. Let’s go.”

But a sharp pain lanced my shoulder before I could charge forward. I halted in my steps and Nel looked up from where she had been digging her claws into my skin.

“Are you sure you’re not letting your feelings cloud your judgement, Helga?”

The pain was shoved to the back of my brain as a hot flush ran up my neck.

“Wh—what feelings?” I scowled down at her. “I don’t have any feelings—none. No idea what you’re talking about.”

She looked at me in a way where it felt like I was being pitied, before she sighed and retracted her claws. I released a breath now that the stinging had disappeared.

“For someone who guards herself so compulsively,” she noted, “You sure are easy to read.”

I glared at her. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Thump.

Spinning around, I gasped when the nerdy boy suddenly collapsed in a tangled heap and bolted for him. Lowering to my knees, I clasped his shoulder to pull him around so he was on his back. I drew back at the circles beneath his eyes. Dark enough that they appeared like bruises. And his face . . . it almost looked skeletal. His cheeks were so hollow.

“Helga!”

Nel gestured to the tables that were ahead of us. I released a noise of alarm. Everyone was either passed out, or still reading, but with bruised eyes like the boy’s.

I rose to my feet, backing up until I bumped into the bookshelf, knocking over some books.

“It’s her, Nel,” I said, somewhat pathetically. “It’s gotta be!”

“Quiet in the library, please.”

But when I spun around, it was not to that girl who had been flirting with Arnold. It was that same crow–like librarian from before. She was far closer though, so I could see how almost purple her skin looked.

She held a long finger to her lips and let out a slow and steady, “Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

And from her lips poured out black smoke. It curled, rolling down to her feet, then wrapping around her body. The air settled onto my skin like ice yet sweat soaked my arms. I covered my mouth and Nel copied my movements when the smoke suddenly clogged my throat.

When it dissipated, the librarian transformed into a hideous looking . . . thing. Its skin was mostly scarred tissue as its forehead seemed to fold over its eyes. The body was knotted and twisted and its shoulders pushed forward over its knees. Thin purple lips pulled back to reveal yellow sharp teeth as it released a snarl.

My jaw dropped.

“Ohhhh . . .” I faintly nodded. “That, um . . . that makes sense.”

Nel turned to me in exasperation. “I told you that your feelings were clouding your judgement!”

I frowned. “What feelings—WHOA!”

Swooping to the side, I barely managed to avoid the claws that the Wraith sprang at me with. I spun on my heel and sprinted down the aisle, keenly aware of the footsteps following me.

Nel dug her claws in to stop herself from falling. “Helga, what’re you doing?! Transform—transform right now!”

“I would love to Nel!” I glanced over my shoulder to see the Wraith jumping onto the bookshelf. It didn’t fall. Instead, it took the position of an almost elongated frog—how do you like that for irony—and began crawling along the shelves. It turned into a blur and I had to take a sharp turn to avoid it. “Only I left my pin in my bag at the table!”

Nel’s eyes almost popped from her skull. “You simpleto—”

Annnnd I fell.

Which you would think would be bad. But it turned out to be at the perfect time, because right when I fell, the Wraith pounced from the shelves with its claws stretched out. The attack sliced the air where my head had been moments ago and the creature dove over me.

I watched it land on its face, rubbing my sore nose. “Well, that was weird.”

“Would you get up and get your pin?!” Nel demanded.

Offended, I frowned. “Alright, I’m going.”

Getting up, I raced down the aisle. There were so many bodies still sat at the tables, either passed out, or still reading like they were in a trance. I could hear the Wraith picking itself up and struggling to get back to its feet. I released a noise and tried maintaining the distance between us.

Suddenly, I heard two voices.

“C’mon, Arnold.”

“What’s wrong with them?!”

My eyes lit up. Lila and Gerald!

I rounded the corner and saw that they were leaning over the table, backs to me. My heart came to a stop when I could see what had their attention. Arnold had crumbled in his chair and his face was flat against the table. While the girl had collapsed to her knees, cheek pressed against the table leg. Both were unresponsive. The sight made me almost topple over, but I tried focusing on the positive, like the four of them were at least together. And even better, I could see my bag still tucked beneath the table.

Then, in my peripheral, I spotted the Wraith swerving for them. It was crawling across the shelves, knocking the books to the ground in its haste to get there.

Nel sunk her claws into my shoulder.

“Helga!” she gasped. “By the time they see it, it’ll be too late for them to outrun it!”

She was right. This Wraith was too fast.

“Gerald!” I shouted. Nel leapt from my shoulder to hide from their sight. “Move, you dummies!”

They looked up to find me gesturing at the approaching creature. Lila saw it first, then drew back with a terrified scream. Gerald, on the other hand, didn’t move and stood there, gaping, as the Wraith readied itself to pounce.

The Wraith let out an inhumane snarl and leapt into the air. It shot like a rocket and the closer that it got, the clearer it became that it was aiming for Gerald. And the boy seemed to have frozen in his horror, eyes stuck on the approaching creature.

The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion; dashing forward, I shoved out my hand until it had knocked into Gerald and Lila. The force surprised them, knocking them to the side, until they were on the ground. There was a twisting in my neck, an uncomfortable churning between the rushing blood and my pounding heart. I slowly turned my neck, looking in the Wraith’s direction—

When its hand slammed into my throat and I found myself flat against the table. It was with a resounding bang! that had my skull pounding. Fingers pressed in deep, and my skin burned from the pressure. Fog filled my brain as the walls began to swim. I spluttered and clawed at its fingers, but its grip remained tight. I could feel the lack of oxygen pounding around my face. I acted on instinct, slamming my hands down onto its elbows. The grip loosened, as the Wraith was forced to bend its arms. I shot forward until—

Crack!

It howled, releasing its clutch around me. The world was still spinning, but I stretched my hand out behind me. Something familiar touched my fingers. I didn’t think, I just acted. Wrapping my hand around it, I launched forward until I had knocked it into the creature’s neck.

The creature drew backwards, screaming.

I caught Lila and Gerald covering their ears to block out the awful sounds. I placed a hand onto my chest, spluttering and hacking as I struggled to get air back into my body. Everything felt like it was tying itself into a knot, but I glanced up to see the blood that was pouring down the Wraith’s neck. And I realised that it had been a pen that I had plunged into its flesh. The creature wrapped its hand around it but didn’t remove it. 

The Waith lunged in my direction, and I prepared myself for the impact, but it instead sprung above me. Landing a few feet away, it fled for the entrance then heaved its weight into the doors.

Outside, it was far brighter. I hadn’t realised how dark it had gotten in here in comparison. But the Wraith disappeared as soon as the light hit its body. I had to blink to grow accustomed to the sudden brightness, but it was too late—sunshine had already inhaled its form. Sounds moved through the entrance. Music. I wondered if perhaps there was an event planned, or maybe, someone was playing their music too loud. But either way, my senses were invaded with a song.

When you call my name
It's like a little prayer
I'm down on my knees
I wanna take you there

Beneath it, I could faintly hear screams and the screeching of cars as people witnessed the creature racing through the streets.

I knew that I should have been running after it. And I planned on it. But I needed to spare myself a few seconds. I felt confident that it wouldn’t attack again, not with a pen sticking out of its neck.

Leaning over my knees, I inhaled long and slow. Tried to keep my head down while everything settled back into place. When my skin had cooled and the blood had settled, I raised my head to look at Lila and Gerald.

“Are you alright?” Embarrassingly, my voice came out as a hoarse croak. I slammed my lips shut as a heat burned in my cheeks.

Thankfully, Lila didn’t seem to have noticed it. She was staring at the doors which had been forced open, trying to comprehend everything that had happened. I cleared my throat anyway. Gerald jumped at the sound, blinking, like he had been jerked from a vision.

“Oh, um,” he stuttered then glanced at his trembling hands. “Y–Yeah . . . I think.”

I pressed my lips into a line. I hated seeing Gerald like this. He was always so confident and calm, it was unsettling seeing him so out of it.

Lila snapped her gaze back to me. “H–Helga, what was—”

“Is Arnold okay?”

She blinked, like she hadn’t been expecting that. Her forehead crumbled as she looked over my expression before she turned her attention to the unconscious teenagers behind her. I hadn’t realised that in the struggle, they had fallen to the ground.

“Why do they look like that?” Lila asked as she crawled over them. Looking closely, I realised what she was talking about. They looked like everyone else in the library: frail, so much older than what they were with their papery skin.

“I think—” Lila pressed her fingers to Arnold’s neck, then did the same to the girl. Eventually, she turned to me. “They’re breathing.”

“Good,” I stood. “And you?”

“Um, well, I’m a little shaken, but I . . .” she looked down to her hands which she tied in her lap. She scrunched her face then shook her face, before looking back up to me. “Helga, how did you do that?”

I looked away when she asked that. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe because I didn’t know how to answer that. Not without making myself seem more suspicious than I already was. Maybe because I was exhausted and worn out. Maybe because I was pissed that today was supposed to be my day off and yet, I was still getting dragged into this shit. Or maybe, because I was finally growing tired of the lies. But whatever the reason, I could feel my voice curling in on itself like it wanted to hide.

Helga! Nel’s voice burst in my mind. Until the Wraith is killed, it’ll continue draining their energy. We have to go!

Right.

I swiped my bag from the table, swinging it onto my shoulder.

“S’nothing,” I mumbled, avoiding her stare.

She stared in disbelief, then climbed to her feet.

“It certainly was not nothing—Helga, that was amazing!” she threw out her hands with a stunned sort of smile. “You managed to take it down singlehandedly! It was simply astou—where’re you going?”

Pausing, I looked over my shoulder. I had been heading for the door so when I turned to her, the sunlight was pushing from behind me. I could feel the warmth diving down my spine and swelling in my hair.

“My data hasn’t been working in here. I’m going to head out to call 911,” I explained.

It wasn’t exactly a lie. My phone had been a little slow while in here, but not bad enough to necessarily need to leave. Still, it was all I could come up with on the spot.

Lila paused, taking that in. I thought she would believe me. Not because it was a believable lie, but because the adrenaline was still so high, it was easy to accept things without thinking it through. But then, a troubled expression pushed over her face as she pressed her lips together.

Life is a mystery
Everyone must stand alone

“You risked your life for us,” she noted and stepped forward. “Why? Why didn’t you just run away?”

I found myself turning away again. My voice suddenly seemed like it weighed two tonnes.

I hear you call my name
And it feels like home

“It would’ve been easy,” she continued. “You were already closer to the exit. You wouldn’t have to take more then a couple of steps . . . but you turned back. You were running toward us, to help, rather than save yourself . . . Why? Why would you do that?”

I hear your voice (I hear your voice)
It's like an angel sighing (Ah)

The way that she looked at me, it was different from the other times. Where there was a falseness, a patience that was so unconditional that it felt fake. She rose her eyes to mine and it suddenly felt as if I could feel her questions stirring in my chest. And it made me realise why I didn’t want to tell her another lie: I was tired. I was exhausted. I was out of my bravado. I had been holding those walls up for years, which I had been fine with. But now, the world had joined that weight to mash into my shoulders, and I was getting too tired to hold them both up simultaneously.

I have no choice
I hear your voice
Feels like flying

So, when I answered her, I knew that it was with the truth.

“It was the right thing to do.”

When you call my name
It's like a little prayer
I'm down on my knees
I wanna take you there

I said it to her like she had been asking me whether the sky was blue. Because I didn’t have anything else to tell her. It was as simple as that. And yet, it seemed to take her by surprise. I could see her lips parting as the line between her brows disappeared. There was a small pause, as she dissected my answer. But before she could say something else, I spun on my heels. I didn’t know what it was that she wanted to respond with, but it didn’t matter. Helga wasn’t needed right now.

In the midnight hour
I can feel your power
Just like a prayer
You know I'll take you there (Oh)

I didn’t realise that I was running until the ground was beating beneath my feet. It rose to slam into my shoes every half second. Something rushed to pound in my ears as a breeze threaded through my hair. Strands flew past like a cape.

You know I'll take you there (Oh)
When you call my name (Call my name)
It's like a little prayer
I'm down on my knees
I wanna take you there

The doors had already been thrown open, so the light crashed into my face. It sunk into my pores until a warmth was stirring beneath my skin. My eyes flew to the sky and an expression lifted my lips. For a moment, it became easy to believe I was being lifted.

In the midnight hour
I can feel your power
Just like a prayer
You know I'll take you, take you, take you

And before I passed the entrance, I heard Gerald turn to Lila—

“What the fuck just happened?!”

The blood had created a path.

Across the road, the droplets disappeared into a large canopy of trees. I should have been scared, anxious at the idea of fighting alone. I should be trembling at the thought that, once again, my life was on the line.

But honestly? I was feeling good—ready.

Clutching my pin, I turned to Nel who was perched on my shoulder.

Her eyes were on mine.

I smirked.

"Bring it on."

Chapter Text

I wasn’t, of course, about to go in, screaming.

I mean, contrary to popular belief, I was not stupid. Sure, I was pumped on adrenaline and basically shaking to knock my fists into a Mutant to settle the humiliation and anger still coursing through my veins. But as amped up as I was feeling, I wasn’t going to just run into the forest, screaming like a crazy person, and swinging around my weapons, without at least formulating some type of plan. I was not an idiot. Or a hooligan, or imbecile, as Nel sometimes liked to call me. I was neither and because I was anything but these things, I would charge in without a plan. I would not.

Except that I did.

Well, what else was I supposed to do? Sit down and have a picnic as Nel and I listed the weaknesses and strengths that we had noticed in the few seconds where we had all been standing in the same room? We didn’t have time.

So, I took the smart approach: I swung through the trees.

Yeah, not the most subtle, but it was totally more fun. Plus, it gave Nel a fright and that was always a plus.

“He—Helga!” She choked back her scream, gripping hard onto my shoulder as her head bounced up and down. “Sto—let’s think abou—”

But I didn’t. Stop, that is. I couldn’t. Too much was happening. Too much wasn’t happening. The adrenaline was an electric heat that turned the world into a stream that flowed around me. But I could tell everything apart. You would think that eventually, I would crash into a tree or poke an eye on a branch. But I didn’t. I knew exactly where to put my hands and which turns to take. The instincts were zipping up my spine like ants and hurling across the back of my neck. I knew exactly when I became in danger of injuring myself, and swooped to the side, or ducked my head to avoid it.

I never got tired of this.

The Mutant dashed beneath us, oblivious. Its hand clutched its neck and saliva dribbled from its mouth. My lips pulled back over my teeth as I hurtled after it. The wind turned into a knife against my eyes. Tears prickled from the corners to peek between my lashes. I blinked against them. The muscles in my chest tingled, but my pulse was low and heavy in my ears.

 And finally, the Mutant came to a stop.

So did we.

Nel leapt from my shoulder and hooked herself in between a small fork in the tree. She rested there, panting, like she had done any of the work. I rolled m eyes but shifted my attention back to the Mutant. It had fallen into a crouch as it caught its breath. My eyes caught onto the pen still lodged in its throat.

It hadn’t pulled it out—yet.

A plan formed in my mind.

Crouched over my knees, I pulled the knife from my boot then hurled it into the tree. The blade sunk into the wood and Nel looked to me in confusion.

“Helga,” she whispered, mindful to not get the Wraith’s attention. “What are you—”

I kicked off from the tree.

Now, the first thing that hit me was the air. Cold. Harsh. It pushed past me, faster and faster as my body plummeted for the ground. It whipped everything into a green paste, sharpening around my neck. And an emotion hit me. One that moved my heart into my throat from the anticipation.

Then, the second thing that hit me?

Nel.

“HELGA!”

Her voice echoed through the forest and the Wraith looked up in alarm. Which, you could imagine, was not good. There was already a short distance between us, so it swung its hands out and—

BANG!

I saw stars.

The force sent me reeling until my skull had smacked into a tree. It lurched my world the side, crushing my lungs between my throat, until I wanted to vomit. Everything was still rushing in a blur but now, my ears were ringing. I clapped a hand to the side of my face as if that would make everything stop spinning (it didn’t work).

Okay.

That, I decided, wasn’t my best idea.

(That being letting Nel come along, rather than ditching her so I could handle this on my own).

I was pulled back when I realised there was a shaking beneath my skin. Thundering. I knew without looking that it was the Wraith, swerving around to race in my direction. I sent that stupid cat a look. Thanks a lot, Nel. Then turned in the Wraith’s direction. But when I looked, it was already swinging a large fist. It was so fast that I could barely register anything and I acted on an impulse. Straightening my legs, I spread them apart so when the fist sunk into the dirt, it landed without a hit. It sent more tremors racing through the ground, dirt flying across my skin. It had missed me, but—I gulped—it had landed very, very close to my crotch.

The Wraith’s eyes turned to mine.

Pulling my legs to my chest, I kicked off from its arm and, rolling back, I jumped to my feet. The Wraith gritted its teeth and went for another shot. I sprung backwards, onto my hands, and then threw myself into a backspring. As I spun, I could feel a fist grazing my stomach. The air was swelling in my chest when I landed on my heels, meeting the Wraith’s flashing gaze.

It growled then charged.

So, I went again—springing from my hands and throwing myself into another backspring. Followed by another, then another, and another as it continued to attacked. Its shrieks surrounded me as I evaded its fists. The hairs on my arm had sharpened into spikes and I knew that I was creeping closer to another tree.

So, springing from my hands, I flattened my hands against the trunk to use my momentum to rebound from its body. I soared through the air with my heart in my throat, and threw the strands peeking across my vision, I caught the awed expression on the Wraith’s face.  

I threw out my legs to wrap them around the branch that hung above the Wraith. Swinging down so that I hung in the air, I threw out my arm to swipe the pen that was still lodged into its neck. The Wraith released a scream as blood burst from its neck. It wrapped its hands around the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

Blood was sliding down the pen into my fingers. I stuck it into my braid and turned my attention back to my knife still lodged into the tree, next to Nel.

Nel was watching the events unfolded below her like it was a movie. I huffed and rolled my eyes. Maybe, if she wasn’t so busy hiding from danger all the time, she wouldn’t still find situations like these ‘fascinating’.

Shifting my focus back onto my knife, a rush of warmth flooded between my brows as I mentally tugged on the connection snapping between us. I bit my lips to cover a snicker when Nel gave a startled cry as the knife that was lodged above her suddenly sprang to life.

The knife shifted before pulling itself from the tree. It hung for a millisecond before sailing through the air into open hand. But the knife could make its landing, I twisted my wrist and the blade was redirected, cutting across the Wraith’s neck.

Cries filled my ears before the knife was back in my hand. I didn’t send a glance to the Wraith as I threw out my legs, spinning from the branch and holding my breath until I had landed on the balls of my feet.

I bolted, but the explosion swept against me before I could even take a few steps. Heat ran along my back and swept out in waves that felt as if someone had pushed hot knives against my arms. The force was strong and swept me from my feet. My stomach shot into my throat so hard that it felt as if my eyes would pop into my skull. The scream escaped me but was cut off when my shoulder was rammed into another tree. The heat came to a jarring stop as a throbbing lanced the back of my skull.

I groaned, feeling my environment folded against my face in hot, sloppy shades, and sat there for a minute. Ran my finger across my scalp.

I stopped when I felt something unfamiliar.

“Victory is mine!” I cried, shooting into a sitting position as I showcased my pen to the invisible audience I always kept tucked away in my head. “I got it! I got Lila’s pen ba—”

But then, a stickiness snaked down my hand and pooled between my palm.

I finally looked at it.

Oh.

“Er,” I gave a sheepish laugh before dropping the pen to the ground. “I’ll just buy her a new one.”

I began to wipe the blood against my pants, which of course, just left dark smears over my thighs. I rolled my face. Great. There was no way she could use this again, let alone want it. I shuddered. Already, the blood was hardening to black beneath my nails.

There was a rustling from above me and when I looked, it was to Nel leaping from branch to branch, getting closer to the ground. Her ears had folded against her head as she concentrated on getting back down safely.

“Did you see that, Nel?” I asked her with a proud smirk. “Wasn’t I awesome?”

Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I did feel pretty badass from doing all that. Sure, it didn’t work out exactly according to plan—not that I had really started with one to begin with—but I won. Looking badass, might I add.

Plus, when you think about it, plans were pretty overrated anyway. You just gotta go by the vibes.

Nel didn’t look like she agreed with me. She came to a stop when she had reached the branch that hung above my face.

“If you’re talking about that completely unwarranted—” she scrunched her face “—parade, then yes, I did see it. And no, I did not think that it was awesome.”

My jaw dropped. Was she for real?

“Why not?” I demanded.

I mean, it wasn’t like I’d been shabby about it. Sure, I hadn’t actually stopped to come up with a plan, but that was totally a good thing! I had managed to get out without even having to think minutes ahead. I’d been resourceful, used whatever I had lying around, and thought quick on my toes. What could she be possibly mad at this time?

“It was more a circus than a battle,” she answered, but it was with an expression that I knew all too well.

I rolled my eyes and settled back against the tree to get comfortable. Because here came the lecture, in three, two, one—

“I mean, really, Helga,” she leapt from the branch to land at my feet. Curling her tail around her body, she fixed me with a scowl. “Are you no longer taking this seriously? You could have handled that from the tree in seconds. But what do you do? Act like a complete ruffian. You prolonged the fight, Helga.”

See? Ruffian, who says words like that?

“Hello,” I gestured to the pen on the ground, then crossed my arms. “I was getting Lila her pen back. See?”

“Getting Lila’s pen?” she then surveyed the item that I had gestured to. It had once been purple and sparkly with a fluffy top at the end. But now, the blood had turned it into a dark, murky colour and the fluffiness was a soaked, soggy clump with tiny pieces of dirt sticking to its fibres.

Nel gave me a look that made my face burn.

“Is that what you’re to be known as, Blue Jay: Guardian of Hillwood and collector of pens?” she shook her head. I huffed, which made her pause, before continuing, “And how were you planning on giving it back to her—as Blue Jay, when it was Helga who said she would return it, or as Helga, who somehow managed to survive a Wraith attack, as a typical, clueless teenager?”

Pressing my lips together, I lowered my gaze to my hands.

I hated to admit it, but she was right. I had been rushing so it’d escaped my notice, but I had unintentionally created a link between Helga and Blue Jay. I could possibly lie and tell her that Helga had run into Blue Jay, who then picked up the pen as a favourite, but that was really risky and made it seem like we were familiar with each other.

Not something either of us needed.

I swiped the water in my eyes then flicked the pen away. I didn’t see where it landed, but I could hear the trees rustling more then 25 feet to the right. Nel glanced at it, before watching as I drew my legs to my chest to glare hotly at the ground.

She released a sigh.

“I understand that it’s been a while since you’ve been Blue Jay,” she tried again in a quieter voice. When I looked up, it was to her expression softening. “But you cannot afford to be showing off.”

That made me frown. “Show o—”

“Yes, Helga, showing off,” she nodded. “You’ll tire yourself out faster with stunts like that and considering that Hillwood is dependent on you, that cannot be afforded.”

“Well, what’s the point—” I said through my teeth, “—in learning that if I can’t just do it?”

“Acrobatics are for performances,” Nel insisted. “But when you’re a Guardian, they should be a defence. Which one are you?”

Her words were sharper than before.

“Does it really matter?” I murmured. “I killed it, didn’t I?”

She didn’t speak for a while.

I raised my eyes to find that hers had a strange emotion welling in them. I couldn’t make out what it meant, but by the time she had opened her mouth again, a shrewd shriek had interrupted her.

The hairs on my neck stood straight as the air bit into my skin. Nel turned in the direction of the scream then back to me.

I let out a louder groan. “Criminy.”

Here we go a–fucking–gain.

It had all been so quick.

Eugene had been sitting in the hallway, waiting for his dad’s shift to end. His dad worked as an account and so, he was usually very busy. But he enjoyed hanging with his son when he could and had promised that tonight, he and Eugeen could have dinner out tonight. He had some chemistry homework, but who was Eugene to turn down a fancy meal? It was his pick, of course.

So, he didn’t mind the waiting.

He had his earphones in and was playing his favourite tunes, to pass the time and also soothe his nerves.

After much nagging from Sheena, Eugene had decided that today was going to be the day. He would tell his dad today.

Well, that was the plan.

Before chaos struck.

An explosion denotating the walls shattered those plans and sent Eugene onto the ground. The tiles shattered into his knees as his heart lurched between his teeth. He yanked the buds from his ears and looked up to find that the windows were missing their glass. Scents clogged down his throat. The walls looked as if they had been made from paper that someone had torn through because all that remained were random shapes. The heartbeat was pressing into his throat as his vision became watery. But his confusion turned into alarm when he heard the screams from around him.

Two demonic creatures then rose from the ground. Eugene’s eyes had been jumping from the walls to the screams, that in his haste, he hadn’t even noticed them. Light was bouncing from the shards along the floor, as sharp eyes surveyed the area.

Screams surrounded Eugene as everyone clambered to get out of there. The monsters stepped forward and he felt the ground tremble from their weight. A string of curses unravelled from Eugene’s tongue.

Everyone was running, and the air suddenly became hot from their panic. It made it hard for Eugene to get breath down his throat. Shoes clamped down on the tiles as panicked screams and calls rushed over one another. He had never been fond of crowds, but this was excruciating. His heart was throbbing in his chest, every square inch of this place was filled with rushing people. They were all hurtling in the same direction: the exit. And despite every part of his body screaming otherwise, Eugene knew that he couldn’t follow. Not without being trampled to death.

Dizziness pounded into his ears as Eugene stumbled in a random direction. There were another set of doors, nearby. He didn’t know where they led, but it would at least get him away from here. He held out a trembling hand and forced the doors open. His worn out shoes didn’t feel like enough, but he forced himself onto his feet.

And ran.

The hallways were a stark white, it almost blinded him. He could hear his sneakers squeaking against the tiles—he didn’t know where he was headed. He just needed to get away from those things.

Screams had seared into his brain. He imagined them belonging to his dad.

Fuck.

Where was his dad? He didn’t know if he was still in his office, ignorant to the horror that was happening in the halls, or—

Eugene glanced at the numbers along the doors and hoped to god that he knew which one the woman had mentioned. Shit, which was it—396? 394? Was he even on the right floor to begin with? Was there another Nate Horowitz?

Heat climbed Eugene’s collar until something was throbbing in his chest. His lungs were heaving, but his feet were light. Thuds pounded against the walls, but he didn’t stop. Forced himself to keep going. Screams rushed up his throat but tangled in his teeth. His vision twisted beneath a water that had the walls spinning around his face. He wanted to stop. God, he wanted to stop. But he couldn’t. He didn’t trust his senses.

For a selfish moment, he wanted his friends to be here. He wanted to not be alone, he wanted to have someone else to rely on. Someone to look to for instruction, for direction.

He wanted Blue Jay to be here. 

He finally burst into one of the rooms—he wasn’t sure which one—with so much force that it sent the doors banging against the walls. The sounds had something zipping up Eugene’s spine and his heart simmering in his throat. He swung around, knees shaking, and quickly clambered the doors shut. His nails clacked against the wood until he heard the click of the lock, then hurried backwards.

His breath had still clogged his throat, skin tingling from his pulsing. Everything felt too blistered, too swollen. He turned his eyes away from the doors to the windows where hopefully he could distract himself.

The window was wider here; there was only one here, but it covered the entire back wall. So his eyes were afforded a break from the white plaster and instead, they nestled onto a nice shade of lavender. The sun was hanging low in the horizon, where before disappearing for the night, it pushed the last of its light over whatever it could reach. The beams washed the clouds indigo while the rest of the sky carried that orange glow that reminded him of iron.

It was a beautiful sight that, even momentarily, made him forget where it was that he stood. In a room where the shadows were growing darker. The lavender lights poured like grape soda into the windows to outline the shapes that reveal the cluttered desks and wheeling chairs.

The room was abandoned.

Eugene frowned. Was everyone out early? Or . . . had everyone gotten out before the attack?

Then, a hot puff ran down Eugene’s head, tickling his curls. His heart had leapt into his throat, but before he could turn, a hand came down and wrapped around his throat. The air in his stomach suddenly turned vicious, as his vision singed with black.  The floor disappeared from beneath his feet, his neck being yanked until the hand had slammed him against the wall. The sound flooded his senses before the pain could drill itself into his skull. He was looking, he realised, into a pair of very red eyes. A white smirk spread across the face. The evening air was swallowing him, but he fought against it to claw at the hand around his neck. The sound of laughter roared in his ears, before a ringing took over.

It made the shadows pool and his mind began to whirl. The air had become hot, pressing sloppily into his face, and the monster squeezed until Eugene could only see stars.

There was another howl, and with a suddenly spike of adrenaline coursing through his veins, Eugene let out a high–pitched scream. The chills raked down his spine and before he was aware, he had sunk his nails into the monster’s hand. He hadn’t thought that it would do much, but the monster wailed, and bashed Eugene’s skull backwards into the door.

He grimaced. A throbbing pain seared the back of his head. Shadows twisted over his eyes until he saw nothing, but he didn’t give up. He launched forward until he had sunk his teeth into monster’s flesh, he wasn’t sure where.

There was a cry as something salty and stomach–turning slipped past Eugene’s teeth. It flooded his tongue and filled his mouth. But before his brain could catch up with the sensation, the monster had flung him across the room, and his body had slammed into something sharp–sounding.

For a moment, everything slowed until it had pressed into a stop. Eugene could feel his breath in his ears. Could see the sounds blotching then slipping out of focus. Could taste his heartbeat until it became hard to swallow.

Then, he heard a crack.

His eyes popped open—he hadn’t realised that they had shut—and he was falling.

Lights pressed against his face. Nothing kept him suspended, so the air had both sharpened and dulled. Breaking apart into fragments as gravity took him under. The sensation had his heart sweeping up into his throat, senses rocking back and forth. Shards of glass swirled around him. Silence rung deep and forebodingly in his ears. He wanted to scream, but his heart swelled against his throat. His fear clung without release. The shards were spinning, he could feel his skin breaking from where they landed against his knuckles.

Despite the pain, he reached out for the sun. His vision blurred as the light outlined his hand, slithers of blood leaking from the cuts. He managed a small smile. He had fought valiantly; his dad would be proud.

Clank!

Something warm but firm wrapped around his body. It rushed against his face, then twisted itself around his limbs, until he was cradled. Something had hooked beneath his knees and another wrapped behind his back, pulling him in until his right side was covered by something warm. Breaths filled his senses. Fingers twitched beneath his knees. The air lashed against the side of his face that wasn’t covered—he was rushing forward. No longer falling but flying.

There was a smash! and the sinking feeling was no more.

Opening his eyes, he caught the pale light reflecting in the shards around him. He no longer was outside, but was now back inside the building. It was a different room, possibly a different level altogether. But his vision was still blurry, his senses too jumpy for his mind to settle long enough to recognise the room that he—they—stood in.

He turned his face upwards—

What?

—and felt his heart lurch.

The person who currently held him . . . he had been hoping that it was Blue Jay.

But he didn’t recognise this person. Their face was covered with a metallic, black helmet. Eugene couldn’t see their eyes, but from how their face was angled, he safely could assume that his gaze was being returned.

“You okay?” they asked. The voice belonged to a woman, although it had a slight robotic sound.

He frowned. Was this even a human?

“W–Who—” Eugene stuttered—“are you?”

He couldn’t see their—her face. But he could feel her smiling.

She lowered her stance so he could hop back onto the ground. Having something firm pressed against his feet, had something shifting in his stomach, rolling back into his throat. But he kept his lips locked, determined not too look like a damsel in front of this person. He could already feel her amusement as she held out her hands, ready to catch him if he fell.

His face flushed warm, he could feel it. He chose to ignore it, shifting his focus until it had hooked onto their sharp difference in height. Eugene had always been short for a boy, but standing next to her made him feel like a child. He barely even reached her shoulders!

She didn’t answer him until she was certain that Eugene wouldn’t tumble over. She then reached a hand to her neck and Eugene flinched, readying himself for an attack that he couldn’t deflect. But she instead tapped something on the nape of her neck and, with a whoosh!, the helmet disappeared. Folded up until it had disappeared into her neck, revealing her face.

His jaw dropped—

“Blue Jay?!”

In hindsight, he shouldn’t have been so surprised. Blue Jay—as far as he was aware—was the only girl running around with superpowers and abilities that could take down the monsters that lurked the street. No one else had introduced themselves as able to carry her same skill and potential, so even as she stood in a totally different outfit, his mind should’ve eventually settled back onto it being Blue Jay. She was, after all, the only superhero that Hillwood had.

But could you blame him? She looked so different!

He scanned her new attire.

She no longer had the helmet on, which left her face still in the same eye mask as before, only this time, it was black.

She smirked, eyes twinkling. “The one and only.”

He scanned her new attire; without her helmet, her face was still covered with the same eye mask (although it was black now). She was wearing a black catsuit, he realised. A sensible one, but a catsuit nonetheless. Men on misogynistic forums were going to have fun with that one, he thought to himself with a mental eyeroll. But her torso was protected with a dark, form – fitting chest plate. The guards on her shoulders were in the form of grey feathers that had a blue sheen to them. Long pants covered her once bare legs. Silver pads were on her knees with a pair of matching boots, no longer possessing heels. And her hair was now pulled from her face into an elaborate French braid.

Truth be told, Eugene preferred her first outfit. It was far more iconic and had been the subject of many fan edits online. However, he had to admit that this one was far more practical and even intimidating. He wouldn’t want her as his enemy, that was for sure.

But still. Eugene had to admit: he was stunned.

He had never seen Blue Jay. Up and close, that is. He had seen her picture in articles and the videos posted online. But recordings couldn’t capture the pleasantness of her voice. It couldn’t possibly represent how her presence made him feel; how she felt so strong and firm, yet gentle and warm. Eugene was suddenly engulfed with the urge to tell her all his darkest secrets, although thankfully his common sense caught up with him before his leftover adrenaline could take complete control. Saving him from total embarrassment. When she wasn’t wearing her helmet, it became apparent just how human she was, and beautiful.

She was magnificent.

But a sound suddenly blasted through the room as the door was knocked from its hinges. Blue Jay’s eyes widened as her playful expression dropped. Eugene heard the feet pounding as the creatures raced through the room, but he didn’t even get to look before Blue Jay had grabbed his shoulder. Her actions were so fast that he was still catching up even as he found himself now sitting in the chair that wheeled him backwards from the fight. But she had gently whirled him around, then slammed a hand into his chest until he was sat backwards in the wheelie chair close to them. The action left him winded, mind swimming in order to catch up. The force she had sent to his chest hadn’t been enough to injure him, but he could imagine a bruise in the shape of her hands appearing the next morning.

Jesus. How strong was she?

Darkness thumped from the edges of his vision. He blinked against it, then raised his eyes. Blue Jay charging for the monsters.  It was so tall—twice her height—and hulking in muscle. But she didn’t hesitate and kicked off from the ground until she was swooping over its head in an impressive arc. The monster came to a stop and watched as she landed behind it, facing the monsters still pouring through the doors to flood around her.

One monster swung for her—right, then left. She swiped to avoid it—left, then right. Eugene felt his eyes widen at how fast she moved. The weight from its attacks left the monster stumbling enough for her to slam her foot into its wrist, forcing it back enough that she had space. She didn’t turn as she suddenly pointed behind her to where the original monster had been standing. It was running, Eugene realised with an ice cold fear. For him. But before it could even make it halfway in his direction, something—a cord shot from Blue Jay’s wrist. It crossed the space in half a second, swooping around the monster’s wrist in even less. Blue Jay heaved until the monster was forced into the air and crashing against the wall in front of her.

The force sent the frames along the wall to either knock against the plaster or fall completely. Glass smashed across the ground and beams from the sky rebounded from their edges.

There was a thump from behind him, and Eugene vaguely recognised that his chair had slowed until finally bumping into the opposite wall. He knew that he should probably get up and run, but all he could do was stare at Blue Jay. At how stunning she was.

The hazy glow from the evening surrounded the side of her face and seeped into her strands. The braid glimmered as if raindrops had gotten caught in the loops. The light crept from the back of her neck to stretch out into a halo as her shadow billowed against the walls. Eugene watched as she moved, her elegance reminding him of water. The way that she spun, how her feet twirled across the floor. It was easy to imagine her dancing to a tune which she was in perfect beat to. It would explain how she was able to duck so perfectly, as if she could sense the attacks before the monsters had even decided on them. She had knocked a monster backwards when her back stiffened and she ducked back an instant before claws could shear through the back of her head. She released a frustrated noise before whirling around to slam her hand into the monster’s throat. The force sent the creature hurtling until it had slammed into the wall.

Eugene jumped, then watched as she huffed then turned like that had been normal. Like she was normal. She was the epitome of fierceness, a powerful radiance. She looked like an angel, but she could hurt you like a devil. He watched as she launched her fist into faces, or knocked their knees out with her boots. She fought as if she had been forged from all the pain in the world, and she was rising up to put an end to it. She was more than a warrior, Eugene declared—she was a force of nature.

Blue Jay then stopped, allowing herself a breath. The sight had Eugene’s jaw dropping. Her eyes were burning from her mask, a defiance so hot that it was a blue flame. Her braid had swung to flop down her right shoulder. She paid it no mind. Huffed as she swung around her knife before catching it like it were a butcher’s knife. He realised that the bands around her arms were glowing in the light like beacons of defiance. She moved and her shadow billowed to fill the room. She was more than magnificent, she was—

Battle Goddess, he decided.

He was watching her so intently that he hadn’t even realised that another monster was headed straight for him until he could hear the thumping against the wall.

Confused, he twisted his face to the right and screamed.

One of the monsters was hanging from the walls, flattening into a spider position. Eugene screamed against as it skittered down in his direction. His heart felt like it would explode as the distance between them rapidly closed. He wanted to run, but his feet were refusing to move.

It all happened so fast—the monster lunged for him and, shutting his eyes, Eugene held his breath. Then, a pair of hands grabbed him and yanked him from the chair. As he fell to the ground, the monster’s claws passed a hairs breath from his face.

He landed on his elbows and the first thing that he saw was Blue Jay.

She stood over him with her back to him. The last of the sun’s light washed over her as resolve burned from her gaze. Eugene thought he caught a sharp glint from her hand before she addressed him over her shoulder—

“Shut your eyes!”

He obeyed—at first.

But then he heard the noises and it made him curious. He heard a grisly snarling, some sharp thwacks!, glass smashing then Blue Jay’s footsteps. His eyes flew open and he caught the glint in her hand.

Her knife.

She had taken a few steps away from him, towards the monster which had been knocked back into some picture frames that had now shattered. Her lips were pulled back into a snarl. She looked like a huntress, a predator. Gripping the handle, she sent the knife flying until the blade had sunk into the creature’s flesh. The monster howled but before Eugene could react, a hand had snatched his wrist. Blue Jay yanked him to his feet and bolted for the door. Dazed and disoriented, Eugene didn’t object. He was barely breathing when another monster appeared in the open door and bared its teeth in a low snarl. Eugene expected to stop, or turn in another direction, but they didn’t—they kept going.

Blue Jay drew out her knife but yelled over her shoulder. “Are you keeping them closed?!”

He jammed his eyes shut. “Y–Yeah!”

There was a sharp swish! as he felt her arm thrust into the air followed by an agonised roar. Eugene’s chest tightened and so did Blue Jay’s grip. She picked up her speed and practically dragged him like he was a doll.

A door slammed behind him as the sounds of footsteps echoing filled his ears. Were they back in the hallway? His legs were getting sore and his throat uncomfortably dry. He wanted to ask if they could rest for a few seconds when a muffled boom! shook the walls.

Eugene’s heart jammed into his throat and he let out a startled yelp. He waited for the door to fling open and for the monsters to flood the hallway. But nothing followed the explosion. He wasn’t sure whether it had managed to take the rest of them out, or if the monsters had simply gotten away some other way. But they weren’t following them and that was what mattered.

But then, Blue Jay stopped and he slammed right into her. He had spent the past few minutes watching the woman in front of him lifting freakish titans like they were nothing, so though she had already caught him prior, he had been expecting for her to feel like a brick wall. He was surprised when instead, her form felt exactly like his would, and rather than flattening his face, the collusion was soft and only left him bouncing back a few steps. But his head was still spinning, so even for as human as she felt, had his eyes not been shut, he figured that the collusion would’ve had him collapsing.

An awkward silence then came between them.

He hesitated then raised his head in her direction. “C—Can I op—?”

“Shh!”

He bit his tongue. His fingers were wet and he wondered whether she could feel it. Then, he mentally snorted. Of course she could feel it, its not like she was wearing gloves.

She didn’t seem to care, however, and didn’t speak for a few more moments.

“Okay, that was all of them,” she let out a breath. “You can open them now.”

For a moment, he was blinded by the fluorescent lights that practically bounced from the bare walls. It now seemed even more hollow than before. Silence rung in his ears, as his heartrate burned his throat. He blinked, waiting for his sight to adjust, then looked up at Blue Jay.

Turning around, she let go of his hand.

“W—” his voice was still breathless. “What just hap—”

“Those were all the Mutants in the building,” she explained to him with a smile. It surprised him. How normal she looked. She had tilted her face to the side as her smile hung higher on the right. She looked at him with a gaze that reminded him of summertime; it was warm and glowing. It was enough to fool him into believing that she wasn’t made from glass and steel. Her touch had become so gentle that it became easy to forget that, moments ago, she had been tearing apart armies like they were nothing.

Then, her words hit him, and he frowned. Were Mutants the name of those things?

 “You’re safe now,” she continued, as if she could hear his thoughts. “You know where the emergency exists are, right?”

Oh. She was leaving.

He tried not to be disappointed. She had things to do. But this woman had saved the city—the world—singlehandedly countless times this week. She was an enigma, a contradiction to their reality. A Battle Goddess. No one knew where she had come from, what she was, or how she was tied to any of this. Whatever this even was. He had so many questions: Where had she come from? Where had she gotten her powers? How did she know how to fight those monsters? What were they after?

But she had a job to do. One that didn’t involve answering to his nosiness. It was a shame considering how much of a fan Sheena had become—their whole class, really. Her eyes always lit like stars when someone brought up Blue Jay or she saw an image of her. It always prompted her to go on and on about how much she wished she could interview her for the school paper. It would look really good on a resume, she had claimed. Personally, Eugene wondered how she could even think of that stuff when they had aliens and superheroes running around.

Either way, Sheena would have to eventually forgive him.

Silently, he nodded.

“Take them—the closest ones,” she instructed. Eugene noticed that she was wiping her brow and frowned. When had her face gotten so damp? “They’ll get you out.”

“But what about you—”

“Doesn’t matter about me,” she interrupted him with a smile. But this one didn’t reach her eyes. “Don’t concern yourself with me. Just make sure you get out of here. Find your dad, okay? Go.”

Gulping, he nodded and sprinted down the hall. His mind was reeling—thriving—and it made everything pass him like a blur.

He had almost made it to the end of the hall when her words caught up with him. Go find your dad. He stopped. How did she know about his dad?

He looked over his shoulder. There was so much distance between them, so she couldn’t see the details such as how piercing her eyes were. Or the strands that were already loosening from her braid to trail down her neck and around her face. But he could see that her back was now to him and her knife tightly wrapped up in her hand.

He opened his mouth to say something when she left, disappearing around the corner without another word.

Disappointment sunk through his stomach and for a while, he didn’t move at all. Too many thoughts were crowding his mind. How had Blue Jay known about his dad? Was she supposed to know? Did she know everything about everyone in the city? Was she also a mind reader? Or . . .

He stared where she had once been.

Did she know him?

"Helga! Helga!"

Gritting my teeth, I ignored Nel's cries and forced myself to keep moving forward down the winding staircase. The moon pierced the windows, the stars shone like sugar spilt over black marble. Crap, when had it gotten so late?

One hand was still wrapped around my side and the other rose to wipe away the dotting sweat from my brow. I'd shoved away my knife into my boot. My lungs felt like they were burning and heat licked down my abdomen. I didn't realise that I'd stopped running, that I was practically crawling, until I was half way down the stairs. I had to bite down on my lip to stop myself from crying out. My hand shot out to grip the railing, painting the silver metal in red, and my feet came to a stop.

The sharp fire lanced through my abdomen and I felt my jaw clench—damn it.

I heard Nel's footsteps as she approached from behind, slowly climbing down the stairs. Her gaze pierced between my shoulders, wrecked with worry. "You're injured, aren't you?" she asked.

I didn't answer her.

Heat burnt behind my eyes as I ripped the glass shard from my stomach. Red poured from its sharp edges and I tossed it away. I blinked against the heat to combat the blurriness. "Helga . . ." Nel's voice shook with hesitation. "You should give yourself time to rest. Give your body the chance to heal."

I was tempted—God, I was tempted.

My body felt like it was on fire, it was getting more painful to breathe. But the screams from outside were getting louder, I knew I could rest right now.

Pushing back my shoulders, I threw my bloody fist to my side. I didn't turn to look at her but addressed her over my shoulder. "S–Stay in the building, Nel," I told her, voice heavy.

I didn't wait for her reaction, I didn't need to. I knew she was disappointed and concerned. But there wasn't any time for rests anymore.

Something was happening outside.

And I had to stop it.

Sirens pierced the night air.

Gunshots hailed like rain, tearing through panicked screams. I peeked around the corner of the brick wall, scanning the area. Tiny projectiles tore through the air but bounced from their targets in an explosion of fiery sparks.

There were two Mutants this time, and they'd picked another popular area; buildings were lined up on both sides of the road. There were no side streets that branched off from the main road.

The Mutants were giant and bulky and, upon closer inspection, were made entirely of stone. Bullets bounced from their hardened bodies, rebounding in sharp directions and sending columns of dirt and gravel splattering into the air. The Mutants had piercing eyes that shone from their horned heads—one pair orange, another red. And they each carried different weapons—the red one held a sword and the other an axe.

Gulping, I turned my attention to the people; there was a huge crowd that stood behind police barricades, watching and screaming. Some huddled with their loved ones, unable to look anywhere but the chaos, others had out their camera. The police were shooting, but their bullets held no threat against their marble bodies.

The bodies of uniformed officers lay scattered, dirt hitting their unmoving limbs. Scanning their forms, I realised that they were still alive but barely.

Glancing down, Nel watched everything under a concentrated brow. "Here goes nothing," I announced.

She looked up with surprised eyes, scanning my face. She wanted to say something, I know it. But whatever it was, it died on her tongue, because she just sighed. "Yes," she simply said.

Nodding, I took a deep breath.

The muscles in my back felt tight, but my limbs were like noodles. Underneath my gloves, my fingers were slick, so I shook out my hands. Shuffling, I clenched my jaw and released a long, unsteady breath—I could do this.

Moonlight poured from the sky as I stepped out from my spot into the streets. The soft, ivory beams swallowed me whole, spilling onto my chest and shoulders. My fists clenched and loosened; my abdomen was still searing with an unpleasant warmth. Marching forward, the light must've rebounded from my arm braces because there were several surprised cries as dozens of eyes turned in my direction.

The shooting stopped as the cops turned to me. For a moment, I thought their bullets would follow their gazes, but their weapons were lowering. The last of the bullets dove into the dirt, creating waves of gravel that rose into the air.

I paused, covering my face as the gravel splattered over me. A light from my peripheral caught my attention and I turned to a huge image of me lit up on the screen above the square. It must've been a live broadcast from the reporters amongst the crowd.

It was a few moments behind and showed me covering my face to avoid the gravel. Only, when captured on screen, it looked much different—the gravel created a perfect arch over my body that looked like a scene from a war hero movie. Moonlight splashed down, igniting the blue in the feathers on my shoulders that seem to shine.

I pushed back my shoulders and formed my features into a scowl, directed at the Mutants. Biting my tongue, I moved forward as metallic adrenaline coursed through my veins. As I got closer, I could see how much taller they were compared to humans. They had to be at least nine feet tall!

They exchanged looked, the lights in their eyes flickering like they were conversing. Their features didn't move, like they were incapable, but they nodded and turned back to me. The one with red eyes stepped forward, heaving its sword into the crock of its neck. My heart was hammering, but my face remained neutral.

We both stopped a few feet apart; it stood so close that I could smell the stench of ash that radiated from its body.

My nose wrinkled.

The Mutant's foot shot out and sunk into my stomach. Blood pooled my mouth as my guts smashed together. The force from its kick launched me high into the air. My body bashed against something steel that folded around my body before my face knocked against the ground.

The world swirled around me; stars were singing and colours were dancing. The pain throbbed deep in my stomach, deep and warm. Rumbles shook the ground and alarms went off as car were tossed into the air. The Mutant was running for me, knocking everything out of its way with one hand and carrying its sword in the other. Bile rose in my throat and I dug into my boot for my knife.

The Mutant's face stayed the same as it sent its sword crashing down for me. I rolled to the side as the blade hit the ground, leaving behind a thundering crack. One hand was pressed to my side as I hurled the knife through the air.

I held my breath as it soared closer and closer for the Mutant's shoulder. But it was quick, it spun around and slashed the blade with its arm, knocking it from my sight.

My heart was in my throat and I turned around to stumble into a shaky run. Thunder boomed from behind me and the Mutant was hot on my trail. I tried to not let that distract me; distance was what mattered. I couldn't stop, I had to find a safe spot to analysis the situation—

Something bashed into my torso, sending me flying. Heated air hurled past me and my stomach hit my throat. I landed in a jangled heap and couldn't hold back the pained cry. My side seared as gravel burrowed into my broken skin. My body curled up tight, my hand pressed to my leaking side, as I sucked in cramped air.

A whistling in my ear caught my attention and I whipped around to the Mutant that had leapt out of the darkness, blade upheld. I rolled out of the way and felt the ground shake from its landing. My fingertips flared as I felt my knife travelling through the air.

The hairs on my neck stood straight when a silver gleam caught my attention. Turning, the Mutant's arms were raised in the air and the sword held high. I heard the crowd's gasps before I saw the blade descend. I squeezed my eyes shut, but something warm and reassuring overrode my senses. My fingers reached out and caught the knife; gripping the handle, I shoved the blade into the air—

SHIN!

—where our blades met.

The weight behind its sword sent me to my knees. The air around me became hot as I struggled to push back against the blade. The Mutant howled, pulling its sword away then striking again, this time for my side. I managed to block it, but the force behind the jab send me skidding against the gravel. Moisture soaked my armpits and I choked on the urge to run.

This was going nowhere—I needed to find a weakness. There had to be something. For a moment, my eyes connected with my opponent's and I felt myself freeze.

Wait a minute.

The Mutant charged at me with its sword upheld. Sucking in a breath, I counted to three then dashed for the charging Mutant. It attacked in a foreswing and I dodged at the last second, planting my hands on the ground. I sprang to the side and felt the shot slice the fabric covering my torso. I threw myself back to my feet and the area around me spun in a silver cyclone. I heard a thunk! and turned back around.

As predicted, the sword had missed my body and embedded itself into the ground. The Mutant struggled to pull it out—

Now.

Swallowing, my trembling fingers clasped my blade and sent it hurtling through the air. A beam of light shone from the blade as it cut through the air like lightning. The Mutant looked up in time for it to sink into its eye with a burst of dark green liquid.

The squishy sound made my stomach curl into tight cramps. There were horrified gasps from the crowd, and I shut my eyes to focus on the air to calm my stomach, but it was too warm.

A shattering scream came from behind and I whirled around to red eyes that burnt with wrath—the other Mutant. Hoarse cries emitted from the people as the Mutant behind me burst into colourful rays. Sharp wind cut across my cheek and gravel rained down around me. I held out my hand to muster back my knife; my fingers burnt when the blade nestled into my grasp. The lasting Mutant screamed again, the noise rattled my bones. I barely moved when it bolted for me, swinging around its axe.

My hold tightened around my knife—you can do this, Helga.

The gravel crunched beneath my boots and moisture soaked my eyes from the harsh wind. I was running so fast, but my limbs were like lead.

The Mutant was wild, swinging with wrath, and I ducked to roll to the side. There was a thunk! as the axe dug into the floor. Gravel flew everywhere and black dust filled my lungs. I pressed the button on my neck—

Whosh!

—my vision lit up as my helmet swept over my face. Shadows sunk behind objects and illumination broke through the darkness. I could see everything—each individual piece of gravel and the cracks that ran down the Mutant's form. Looking over my shoulder, I could identify everyone that was apart of the small crowd, some faces I recognised—Arnold, Gerald and Lila.

Criminy—what were they doing here?

Their faces were pulled tight with worry; Lila's hands covered her mouth as she watched with wide eyes. Arnold's arms were wrapped around his torso, but I spotted how tightly his hands gripped his elbows. Gerald stood slightly in front of them, watching from underneath his furrowed brows, his jaw was dropped in silent panic.

Turning back to the Mutant still yanking out its axe, my mind—it formed a plan. I charged forward, whipping out my blade. The Mutant looked up, standing tall, and watched with alarm. The muscles in my thighs tingled as I launched myself into the air.

Everything was silent as I soared for its widened eyes, it was like time had held its breath. My body twirled as I threw out my arm, so the force of my spin pushed into my blade.

Blood splattered along the eyes of my helmet. Unpleasant wails knocked into my head as my knife tore into the Mutant's eye.

The gravel crunched as I landed safely on my toes. Tapping my neck, the helmet retracted from my sight and everything darkened back into shadowed blurs. Holding up my hand, I called for my weapon, ignoring the new pitch of screams. The blade threaded through my fingers and I ducked to shove it back into my boot.

Looking up, I watched as the stunned crowd gaped at the Mutant over my shoulder. Releasing another breath, I marched forward and mentally counted down the seconds. My eyes turned to Arnold and a warm rush raced through my body; my heart was in my throat when his eyes found mine. There was another explosion and a gust of wind swept up the gravel and dirt.

The Mutant was gone.

My braid fell over my shoulder from the explosion and I tsked. Maybe I should've opted for a bun instead . . .

My thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of countless firearms clicking off their safety.

I stopped, stunned.

Multiple guarded eyes focused on my form as the police pointed their weapons in my direction. Light burst from their guns and vans, piercing the velvet darkness. A prickliness made me aware of just how many members of the force stood in front of me.

My heartbeat spiked again.

"Get on the ground! Hands visible!" one of the officers shouted. The crowds behind them—civilians and reporters—objected. Some attempted to push past, but other officers forced them back. I saw the shock evident on Arnold's face and the anger that welled in Lila's gaze as she turned to the police. "Get on the ground—NOW!"

"Blue Jay," I whispered. The officers looked taken aback. So, frowning, I rose my voice and repeated myself. "My name—its Blue Jay."

"Okay, Blue Jay—get on the ground," the officer repeated, growling. Something about him rang familiarity in the back of my mind. His hair was dark brown and he had a handlebar moustache.

Rolling my eyes, I placed my hands on the back of my head—and dropped to my knees.

In those lights, my retinas became flooded and all I could see was white. The beams that shot from their guns shrouded me in their blinding incandescence. My eyes as Blue Jay were far sharper then Helga's, the brightness skewered my mind.

The crowd became an uproar as they shouted for my release. There was loud shuffling as they fought against some of the officers. The officers fought back and shouted, "Get back! Get back!"

How was I supposed to get out of this mess? My uniform had more protection then before, but not enough to withstand against those bullets—

The chaos was suddenly broken by the rhythmic sound of a slow clap.

The outrage amongst the crowd—between the civilians and the officers—calmed down as their attention turned over my shoulder.

I became aware of the sound of footsteps behind me. Panic rose in my throat as the temperature around me dropped. I wanted to turn, but my body refused. I stared up at the moustached officer—their leader—and watched as his eyes widened.

"Is this how human's treat their saviours?"

I knew that voice—I recognised its silvery tone. The way it brought chills to my neck. The way my stomach sunk in panic. I glanced around—

The bright light reflected in his sharp smirk.

—and gasped.

"Good evening, milady," he nodded and stopped beside me, glancing down in amusement. "How long has it been since I last feasted upon your radiant beauty?"

My tongue was dry, my mind broken, as I uttered, "Serec . . ."

The shadows that were cast along his face emphasised how high his cheekbones were. Silver curls now shone like purple and hung above his strong brows. And the colour of his eyes—no longer were they black, but now dark grey. His pale lips curled up, which made my eyes sting.

"Who're you?!" I heard the moustached officer. I barely could make out his silhouetted as he gestured in my direction, still pointing his gun. "You with her?!"

His eyes slid from the officers to me. "Well . . ."

"No!" I burst and leapt to my feet, turning to the officers. "He's not with me—he's the enemy, you dolts! Can't you see—"

"GET ON THE GROUND!"

I wanted to yell at him—I was Blue Jay, for christ's sake! I maybe not be as skilled as this guy, but I was stronger—but I bit my lip. Acting like Helga right now wouldn't do anything but prove their suspicions of me. Besides, like I could get to him before the bullets caught me.

Begrudgingly, I forced myself back onto my knees and raised my hands. My cheeks burnt underneath Serec's gaze and I forced myself to ignore him.

"That's one thing humans and I can agree on," he said, chuckling.

I turned to glare at him, pretending my heart wasn't pounding. "What're you doing here, Serec?"

"Is it really that hard to believe that I've missed you?" he asked, shaking his head and feigning disappointment. Opening his eyes, his gaze bore into mine. "It's been so long—I even sent you a present for every day I wanted to see you."

I frowned, a present? What was he talking about? I hadn't seen him since—

Wait.

I thought back on the past few days—how consistently every night had brought on a new attack. How much damage had been inflicted on the city. How many injuries I'd sustained.

Anger fuelled me and I felt my hands dropping to my sides in fists. "You—"

"MA'M, DON'T MOVE!"

Gritting my teeth, I put my hands back up. Criminy, could he take a break?

The heat sunk from the air, wintry air danced across my shoulders, licking away any warmth it could. I turned to look at Serec, but he wasn't looking at me. Instead, his hard-rimmed eyes were on the officers that stood behind the light. A shiver ran down my spine; this was the first time I'd seen Serec angry. "We're talking," he said, voice low and his words deep.

I had to look away. His eyes were so bold and focused, it was unnerving.

A choked noise came from the police, swallowed by multiple horrified gasps. I looked up but couldn't see past the lights again. There were more cries and I knew that I no longer was the centre of their attention. I tapped my neck and squinted as the helmet fell back over my eyes.

Shadows sunk into familiar figures.

Everyone was turned to one of the younger officers, the one who had just screamed at me. His eyes were frozen wide as his nails dug into something in his throat. I leaned forward and spotted a sparkling layer of ice was spreading across his neck. The officer stumbled back, his face turning a dark purple as he fought for air. I turned back to Serec and spied the ice that seeped between his fingers as he glared at the man.

I opened my mouth to yell about him when another cry from the officer caught my attention. He staggered around for several seconds, dodging concerned hands reaching for him, and collapsed over one of the barriers. His face smashed into the gravel in a gruesome, red splatter.

I shuddered.

The crowds screamed in horror, some cried. I watched in a stunned silence. That man—he'd barely looked older then Olga. He'd only been doing his job and now . . .

I caught sight of Lila; her eyes popped open, dripping with hot tears, and her wobbling chin fell to her collarbone. Arnold shrunk back, red eyes focused on the blood that dribbled from the barricades. Gerald clenched his jaw and reached up to wipe his eyes.

The other officer—the one with the moustache—turned back to glare at both Serec and I.

Panic rose in my heart.

It played out in slow motion; I darted to the side and crouched behind a nearby car. Horrified screams came from the crowd, but they were swallowed by gunshots that cracked into the air. Bullets rocked the car and punctured the sides, shattering the back window I was crouched under. I jumped and screamed, crawling into a ball and covering my head as shards fell over me. Not for the first time, I was glad for my change of uniform.

Looking to the side, I was stunned by how nonchalant Serec looked. He was slumped, his hands in his pockets, and an icy wall protecting him. The wall—it caught the bullets that whizzed his way. Serec's curls fell into his face, but his eyes pierced the white ringlets.

He sighed, like he was only annoyed, and tilted his head to the side. "You guys," he said, tone exhausted, "are beginning to get on my nerves."

Shards of ice winked into existence in front of the barrier. They were like sharp nails, ones that dazzled in the moonlight. My jaw dropped as they flew directly for the line of officers. Ice connected with shoulders, kneecaps and feet. The screams that came from the officers and civilians made me want to throw up.

The moustached officer was one of the many who ducked in time to avoid the attack. Gerald quickly sunk to the ground, pulling both Arnold and Lila with him. He wrapped his arm protectively around Lila, and all three of them squeezed their eyes shut as ice hailed over them.

Fuck.

I heard Serec cackle as his barrier disintegrated, shrinking into more shards—these ones chunkier—and, with a wave of his hand, sent them hurtling for the crowd. There were more screams as those who didn't manage to duck in time were hit. Frost spread rapidly, stretching for the already hit bodies and crawling across the ground.

Serec barely noticed as I darted towards him frantically. His arms were out as he fired another wave of glistening shards.

"Leave them alone, fucker!" I screamed. Pulling back my arm, I let it snap forward. His eyes found mine for a split second before my fist slammed into his mouth.

"Ow—FUCK!" I cried, pulling back and shaking my fist to relieve the agony. Right, I forgot—punching the skull was a no go and my fist was still healing.

Serec's head reeled back and red burst from his lip which ploughed against his teeth. I held my fist to my chest and looked just in time to see icicles disappearing. The frost that covered everyone melted into steam and the blue left their faces as they inhaled deep breaths.

I released a breath, thank goodness.

But a rapid drop in the temperature prompted me to turn back to Serec—and my heart dropped. His eyes were bulged with fury as he reached up to wipe away the blood. Iciness travelled though my veins, but I tightened my jaw and fought back against his glare. His eyes dropped to the arm wrapped around my torso. I followed his gaze and cursed—blood was spreading across my uniform.

The crowd shouted my name and I looked over in time to catch the shards that flew straight for me.

Shit.

Spinning around, I threw myself into a wild run. The air whistled as shards followed me like magnets. Serec's laughter came from all around as the shards shot like darts at my feet. They exploded at my heels, sending gravel into the air.

I ducked behind the hood of a car and pressed up against the metal. Ice punctured the sides and rocketed the car. Blood roared in my ears and it was getting hard to breathe. The helmet folded back in my neck and I inhaled deep, cool breaths. The air was like water to my throat and felt good against my forehead. I pulled my knife from my boot and banged the back of my head against the car.

Releasing small breaths, I waited until the ice bullets stopped and sprang up, ready to throw the knife—

Huh?

But Serec was no longer there.

I looked around for his pale form but only spotted the shocked faces of the crowd as they watched the screen above the building. I turned my gaze as well—and gasped.

I barely managed to roll out of the way when he slammed into the ground. The impact was enough to create a crater in the ground, sweeping the car up and through a window. Iciness spread from where he stood and crept up and along the edges.

Serec's eyes found mine. His gloved hand raised as a glowing fist.

And he smirked.

"Come now, milady, let's not play this again," he said, turning to look over the crowd. His smirk widened and his eyes lit up—a new idea. "Let's make up for your—" turning back, he chucked "—powers, shall we? Let's put on an especially brilliant show for your fans!"

I barely had time to blink when icy darts flickered into existence and threw themselves at me. I managed to jump out of the way, but their impact caused dirt and gravel to splatter over me.

I spluttered and wiped the dirt from my face. I heard Serec laughing as he sent more rounds of icy splinters for me. Holding my breath, I threw myself backwards into the air and landed on my hands. I sprang off my hands and threw myself into a backspring, followed by another, another and another to escape each round.

Air whooshed from my stomach until I stopped—landing in a crouch as I drew in heavy breaths. White wisps stuck to my face and slipped between my lips. Serec let out a low whistle, grinning in approval. "I see you've gotten better since our last meeting."

I smirked—and sent my knife flying.

He sighed and stepped to the side as it came hurtling for him. It brushed past his hair, but he didn't flinch, placing one hand on his hip. "Doesn't that ever become tedious?" he asked dryly.

He reached up to push back his curls, which flopped back over his eyes, and leapt to the top of another car. His movements were so smooth and graceful, they reminded me of a lioness. "Let me take the lead in this dance, milady," he said, smirking. "It's much more entertaining when I'm in charge."

He outstretched both his hands. The wind roared, pulling at his clothes and twisting his ringlets. Squinting, I held up a hand to block the air that stung my eyes. The air bit at my face, my nose burned red and my braid knocked into my cheek. A bright blue surge of something rushed from Serec's palms. It looped around and danced in the air until the light dissolved to resolve a blue chain that fell into his hands.

He looked back up at me and winked; his lips stretched into a smile that looked like the one he wore when he strangled me. He swung one end of the chain in the air, mimicking helicopter blades, and fired it at me.

It snapped into the air, like a bullet. I couldn't force myself to move as it got closer to me. It shone like an April morning against night air. It cut across my ear and flew over my shoulder. Blood roared in my ear and I turned to look—the chain wrapped around the headlight behind me. Small patterns of ice twirled from the chain and crackled as it grew across the headlight.

I took a step back, hands shaking by my side. The headlight shattered and a blast of icy wind knocked me over. Fire nibbled on my stomach and I choked on dirt—fuck. I wrapped my arms across my stomach and tried swallowing air. But it was so cold, it stung my lungs.

Serec looked down at the chain in his hands. "Huh," he said, frowning. "Its harder than it looks." He looked up at me and made a clucking noise with his tongue. "Oh well, guess it only makes it more fun."

And he fired again; the blast cut through the frozen air.

I stumbled out of the way.

He swung again—and I dodged.

It continued like this—him attacking and me dodging. He cackled as he did it, it was sharp like knives and left my ears scolded. "Dance—dance, milady!" He laughed as I fell to the ground to avoid another swipe. The corners of his mouth were so stretched that they met his gaping eyes.

The air pinched my skin and iciness chewed my abdomen. It all bunt and stung so deep in my body. I was reaching m limit—I knew it.

I darted for the windows of a jewellery shop to catch my breath—the ice irritated my lungs. My vision was blurry as I hacked up large bursts of air from my chapped mouth. I didn't know how long I could keep doing this. It was so cold but sweat slid down my face.

Looking up, I glanced around at the cars that had been knocked onto their sides, black smoke rising from their broken engines. Jagged edges stuck out where windows once were and a burst of water shot out from broken fire hydrants.

I had to lead the fight somewhere else.

Lifting up my arm, my fingers pressed down on the heel of my palm and a silver projectile shot out from my wrist. It cut across the air and attached to the top of the building that showed the screen. I forced myself to ignore the large image of a bleeding and wounded Blue Jay.

Squeezing my fingers into a fist, the wire yanked me high into the air and I shot forward toward the building. A wink of light from the corner of my eye caught attention and I looked down to Serec watching me in disappointment.

He clucked his tongue again and the chain vanished from his hands in a burst of light. His lips moved and my sensitive eyes managed to make out his words. "Where're you going?"

His hands went back into his pockets and his gaze moved to my wires.

Reeeeeeeeee.

My heart frozen and I turned in time to see the iciness that nibbled along the wire that held me so high.

Reeeeeee—SNAP.

My eyes popped open—I was falling.

The world rushed by in a dizzying black blur. Cold air lashed my face as I shot for the ground. My stomach hurtled and jammed into my wind pipe—I couldn't scream. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the inevitable.

The moment I hit the car, I assumed I was dead.

But I kept waking and waking. I wanted to be unconscious instead. Because, when I was awake, I could taste the blood that pooled my mouth. It grazed my teeth and soaked my tongue. My head throbbed as a ringing sound assaulted my eyes. It was so loud, it pierced right between my eyes. The ringing pressed I in on me, crawling under my skin. I wanted to rip it from my bones. I sucked in a cramped wisp of air, but it was like my lungs were full of water. The ringing noise—I recognised it as the car alarm.

For the first time, I wished I couldn't heal. I wished I didn't have Blue Jay's durability. I wished that someone would run me through and let me bleed my way to death.

But I was left in agony.

I moved my hand—wincing at the white pain—to my abdomen. There was so much blood, it slipped through my fingers and down my body.

I was so tired.

But I—had to keep going.

I placed my free palm down by my side and pushed to hurl myself up—

Shit!

I landed on the ground in a crumbled heap.

There was a piercing scream I didn't recognise until I realised those sobs belonged to me. My hand still clung to my side, but no matter the pressure, blood gushed between my fingers and oozed under my hand.

My head was full of static and my vision . . . it flashed with darkness.

"Ah, isn't this a turn of events?" Serec's voice rang distantly but I knew he was close. I avoided looking up at him and fought against the throbbing to crawl on me knees, but I felt him approaching. "You're on your knees. Truly an astonishing sight." His feet stopped next to my hands and I clenched my jaw. I felt his cold breath on my ears. "Not that I mind, of course."

His foot connected with my wound and fire exploded in my abdomen. My voice was hoarse as I screamed. My body caved in, falling from my knees, and black spots were in my eyes.

His boot slammed into my nose.

My head knocked against the ground. Eyes watering then squeezing shut, copper burst in my mouth. The tip of his boot slammed into my cheek and my head snapped to the left, spit bubbling down my lips.

The world was swimming in black, I barely noticed when Serec's boot pressed into my cheek. But the touch was softer this time. "As I expected . . ." he chuckled. His foot left my face and his breath washed over me again. I shut my eyes, the coolness felt good on my hot cheek.

“You see, the thing is, Blue Jay, you can flip all you want, change as many costumes and call yourself a hero.” His grin touched my ear. “But that’ll never hide who you really are—weak.” He spat it out like it was a slur, I shuddered. “You’re pathetic. Nothing more then a scared little girl.”

I opened my eyes and, though the dizziness and nausea, saw something that had plagued my nightmares. It was his eyes, but they were no longer lit up with sadism or a thirst for my blood. They stared right past me.

He stood up and turned to address the crowd—they looked so scared and hopeless. I spotted even the reporters lowering their cameras. “This is your hero—this!” He shouted, flinging his hand in my direction. I had to look away when they turned to me and Serec cackled, “You’re doomed! You’re nothing more then cattle! And there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it!” His smile was drawn so wide that salvia shone from the corners of his mouth. “We’re going to come with greater numbers then you’ve seen! The end is near!” He looked over his shoulder at me. “And you all have your precious hero to thank.”

My mind fell blank as I stared into those burning eyes. It was like I was caught underwater, everything was slow and warbled as he watched my face, admiring the horror that transformed my features.

He turned back to the crowd, the grin lighting up his face again. I watched them, watched how their faces fell at my silence. Arnold’s face was red, I couldn’t tell if it were from anger or exhaustion, and his fingers wrapped tightly around each other. Gerald’s arm was still around Lila, but he watched Serec like he were a predator.

And Lila—shit—she looked so disappointed. She gripped onto Gerald’s arm, but her focus was unblinkingly on me. Dried tears left trails down her face, right to her clenched chin, and her eyebrows were pushed together.

Criminy I’d never seen her angry.

Serec rubbed his hands together, shoulders hunched, as he stepped in their direction—

“That’s not true.”

The voice was weak, it shook from its lack of air. But it was enough for him to hear. Serec paused, without turning. “Pardon?”

Blood fell in tiny droplets onto the ground as I pushed against my hands to force myself to my feet. “W–We’re nothing like you described—” I coughed. My bones ached and the world spun, but I kept my eyes on the back of his head. “We’re more then cattle—we’re stronger then you give us credit. And—” red salvia ran down my chin. “We’re not going to let you destroy our home!”

I watched awe transform the crowd’s faces, watched as the reporters picked up their cameras again. Light shone from behind me—the screen must’ve been active again, showing a larger image of me. Lila’s eyes widened and she stepped out of Gerald’s arms, lips parting. Something burned in my stomach, but it didn’t hurt. I couldn’t tell if it were my wounds or anger.

Serec scoffed, still not turning, and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Please, just stop,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “There’s absolutely nothing you can do or say that will stop me.” The corners of his mouth suddenly turned up and he turned around to face me. “Your breath is much better spent begging and I’d much rather that.”

The way his eyes dragged up and down my body made me tremor. He was so unaffected by me, so unbothered with me as a threat. I felt like I was caught in a trap that I couldn’t get out of as my lungs struggled for air.

My red hand slid up from my abdomen to my heaving chest, on top of my pin. “I am Blue Jay—” he snorted “—Defender of Earth and Guardian of Hillwood. How dare you attack my people—”

 He turned away. “The shows ove—”

“—and as a Guardian—”

“We’re don—”

“—I’ll protect my people!” I suddenly screamed, feeling myself starting to tip. I’m not a scared little girl, I wanted to shout. He turned to look at me over his shoulder again, his dark eyes striking his white curls. Desperation clawed at my insides, forcing words out I’d already told myself. “The pin, it—it chose me!”

My words turned into frosty puffs of air. The wind felt so much colder on my face, nibbling my cheeks. Serec’s nose scrunched up and his eyes—so wild before—looked so cold. Everything settled in my mind when I realised that . . . I was crying.

“Well,” he said quietly, voice low and rumbling. “It chose wrong.”

His words choked me. They grabbed my skin and pinched and squeezed my throat so I couldn’t breathe.

No—no, he was wrong—he had to be. I was chosen. I—I wasn’t a mistake. My lips trembled and I wiped away the tears with shaking fists. I wasn’t a fucking mistake—I was Blue Jay.

A sob teared from my throat and he turned from me with an air of disgust. The wind was so cold, my heart dizzying in my ears. I didn’t look up at the crowd anymore, I couldn’t. “I was chosen,” I whispered to myself, voice shaking.

I moved my hand into the air, they burnt as I called for my knife. It wasn’t a welcoming buzz but a scorching pain that ate at my fingers. But I felt the knife coming closer for me—

A large burst of icy air swept me from my feet and knocked me into a large window. The glass fell apart and skittered across the floor. My head knocked against something—hard. The world was spinning and I felt my food in my throat.

A wooden surface pressed against my cheek and distant screams shouted my name, but I didn’t want to listen anymore. My head—it felt so full of static and cloudiness. And my bones were so heavy, like I was drowning. I was just so . . . fucking tired.

Helga . . . Helga!

It was distant at first, I thought my mind had conjured up her voice. But she kept repeating my name, shouting for attention. Nel?

Helga! Her reply was instant but strained. Y–You need to get out of there now!

I felt myself frowning in the darkness. Why?

Against the fogginess, I fought to open my eyes—where was I? The moonlight fell through jagged shards of glass where a window once resided. Pale light struck various objects that surrounded me.

I was on a table—it was cold, dark and small. And there were many like it, all of them surrounded by tiny wooden chairs with plush red cushions. The walls were olive, so dark it looked black, but the back was of red bricks. I spotted the colourful equipment against this wall and the marble counters—it was a coffee shop.

Nel, I don’t underst—

Then, I saw it.

Beneath my hands, frost spidered out from the wooden cracks along the table. I jumped up, stepping away and watched as it rapidly spread like a disease. Cold air washed over my skin, whisking the heat from my uniform, and leaving me shivering and chattering. The frost jumped from the table to the chairs and floors and ceilings—it shined and sparkled. An ugly cackle echoed, and I whipped around in its direction.

I gasped.

Silver shimmering ice climbed down the wall, covering the bricks, and nibbled on the heater in the corner. Helga, you have to get out!

As I hurried for the door, fire shot through my abdomen and black clouds took over my vision. The building, Nel insisted, it’s about to—

The heater shattered in a loud explosion and my last line of vision was a large chunk of shrapnel flying my way.

Chapter Text

Sixty seconds.

That's how long it took. That's how long it took for . . . Blue Jay—their last hope, a dying flame, a star in a spiralling universe—to be taken down.

Her mind replayed the explosion—she'd seen Blue Jay smashing through the windows. She'd watch as frost crept along the heater and bore witness as the building blew up in a blast of glass and ice.

It had been like a blizzard had punched through those windows. Smoke and ice rushed out like water. Glass and steel showered down and deafening alarms erupted. They rung so loud in her mind that her head began pounding. The wind was so strong that she was nearly knocked over.

Her eyes searched for Helga—transformed or not—walking out uninjured and cursing Serec out. But, as the smoke cleared, Nel couldn't find any signs of moving figures or a black uniform. Her vision filled with hot tears; moments ago, a girl had walked those streets, desperate to prove herself. And now . . . blood slid down crumbling walls.

No. Please, not another.

She heard each of her breaths, rasping like she had the flu, and felt them as they hit her paws. Her blood was like cold water and she felt herself trembling. Something sparked inside of her, like a cluster of plugs in her abdomen, and she broke out of the shadowed alley.

She tore for the building across the street, unsure of what she was even looking for. She didn't know if the body would even resemble Helga anymore. She couldn't rid herself of the image her mind painted—broken bones, body glistening with ice and a deep blue. Would she recognise her? Did she even want to?

Please—please, not another—

Then she felt it.

A warm that spread across her body. It was a peculiar sensation that started from the back of her head and radiated to her paws. But it was one she was familiar with—the presence of her charge.

Blue Jay!

Her mind was screaming before she was even aware of it. Her paws stopped and she hid behind a flipped car. Serec—the barbarian—was much too wrapped up in his gloating to the people to notice a tiny cat.

Blue Jay.

The presence was there—burning so bright in her mind—but there was no reply. Her limbs were still moving like someone else was controlling them.

Helga, please!

Darkness.

Silence.

Pain shooting through my abdomen,

And then there's the ringing, chiming so loud that it shook the ground. I realised that the darkness was from my eyes being shut and fought to open them. But my eyelids . . . they were so heavy and I—

Fuck—the pain was hot. It was like my insides were contracting into little knots. My ears pulsated so loud I thought I'd gone deaf. There was nothing but ringing . . .

. . . a . . . he . . . el . . .

Someone was calling my name.

But . . . where? It came from all around me. I wanted to find the voice. I wanted to shout back at them, but I couldn't see them. Where was I?

Flashes of pain broke through the darkness. It slashed across my skin and warm water spread underneath me. It rushed through my body like fire and tore me apart like acid.

The darkness around me shattered and my eyes flew open. My vision was blotched with colours that moved and merged without pattern or design. My stomach felt scalded—like I was being burnt—and overshadowed everything.

Fuck, why was it so hard to breathe? My fingers curled against the pavement as my senses came back.

. . . ga . . . Hel . . . GA! HEGA! GET UP, PLEASE!

"N–Nel?" My voice was so heavy, I barely recognised it.

I pushed myself up and my eyes flew open—I hadn't realised they'd slipped shut—blinking rapidly as liquid ran down my lashes. My mind was spinning as I made it to my knees and slid my hands against the pavement.

Nel, I called out.

Helga, thank goodness! Her tone was so panicked yet relieved. It was strange, I almost didn't believe it was her.

My body shook from the chill that snuck underneath my clothes. My head was pounding and I touched my forehead. But my fingers came away smeared with blood. The metallic scent permeated my senses and my eyes snapped open.

What happened?

I looked around at the ice that curled around the crumbling walls in spiralling patterns. I realised there was small droplets of blood drippling down those patterns. Frowning, I looked down at the blood that swirled along marks on the frozen ground.

Serec, was all that Nel said.

And that was all she needed.

Because that name—the one that sent shivers down my spine—was all I needed to remember everything. I remembered the Mutants, remembered the explosions and the ice that spread across my skin.

Blood dribbled from my abdomen and I curled my fingers around it. Shit, it was so painful. I'd been fighting for so long without allowing myself a rest. But . . . that explosion was powerful. How had I survived?

The ground swayed beneath me as I pulled myself to my feet. My fingers were painfully raw against my gloves and my bones clattered. The temperature must've dropped thirty degrees at least.

My legs were weak, and my knees threatened to give in. I leaned against one of the splintered beams and gulped down the damp air. My chest was tight like I'd been underwater.

Smashed glass lay along the ground as moonlight tore through the gaping windows. Craning my neck, I spotted the crowd watching with wide eyes as Serec swung his arms out, firing proclamations at them. Someone must've said something because he turned back to the build with his hand on his chest.

I slunk back into the shadows and out of his sight.

Helga, are you okay? Nel demanded. I spotted her across the road, crouched behind a red SUV, eyes burning. I'm coming over there—

No, say there, I told her. Rubbing the liquid from my eyes, I look down at my blood stained hand. "I'm going to fucking kill him."

Lila watched with burning eyes.

Icy smoke rose like clouds out the windows as shrill alarms shattered her ear drums. It looked like someone had taken a large bite from the side of the building. Lila hadn't seen what had caused the explosion, but she'd seen the ice that'd crept over the entrance.

The smoke was thick, but she knew that Serec's target had been hit. The damage was much too large, even for her.

Blue Jay was dead.

A vacuum formed in her chest, it crushed her from the inside out. It hurt so bad that she could barely breathe.

A wave of emotion swept over the crowd; she watched as some shed tears and cuddled their loved ones. Her knees buckled and she turned to bury her head into Gerald's shoulder. He was warm and wrapped an arm around her, but she could feel his shakiness.

She felt Arnold's hand grasp her shoulder and looked up to salty tears dripping down his cracked lips. He clamped his mouth shut and scowled at the reason everyone was crying.

The man—Blue Jay had called him Serec—stood with his back to them. One hand was on his hip and the other cradled his chin as he scanned the building. Disgust heaved in Lila's stomach, he looked like he was reviewing art.

"Pity . . ." he shrugged, turning back to face them. The cops stiffened and held up their weapons again, but Lila could see the fear that danced across their faces. It was greater then before, when they'd had Blue Jay. Now, they were truly alone. Serec laughed when he heard their guns clicking. "You're still gonna attempt that? I see where my lady got her wits from."

Something flared in Lila's chest. He had taunted then buried Blue Jay under piles of rubble and still had the nerve to call her his lady?

"Haven't you figured that there's nothing you can do to stop me?" Serec continued in a voice that reminded Lila of metal. It sounded smooth, flawless even, but struck her as cold. "You saw what happened, you've seen how powerful I am." He held out his arms like he was waiting for an applause. "But, of course, if you still insist, I urge you to fire first. I'm sure I'll be caught off guard this time."

Silence swelled as the cops exchanged alarmed looks. Was it smart taking Serec up on his challenge? Lila didn't know the answer. The last time they had, Serec fired back on everyone like they'd been caught in a blizzard.

But they'd had Blue Jay then. Lila's heart fell like a stone into her stomach. Blue Jay, she was . . .

Who would protect them now?

The left side of Serec's face tugged up into a grin like he'd been listening to her thoughts. Her insides curdled like milk mixed with lemon. "No? Smart move. Maybe there's some semblance of hope for this race," he said, rising a hand in their direction. A wisp of blue light struck from his fingers and fizzled out into the air. The same light wrapped around the cops' guns and, with a flick of his wrist, Lila watched as Serec magically thrusted them from the cops' hands. The guns flew over the barricades and landed in loud clatters behind Serec.

Lila felt her fists shaking when Serec laughed. "And now that you're unarmed, I would appreciate some respond." The smile was suddenly replaced with an impatient scowl. "Now kneel."

Everyone exchanged helpless looks, silently asking what they could do. The silence was so chilling and tore straight into Lila's mind. Arnold turned to her and Gerald, looking at them with such helpless, red eyes.

The tears had stopped but her heart bled for him. She couldn't tell if he was more upset at the situation or how powerless he was. Arnold had always been a doer, eager to help people. He had a good heart and never hesitated to jump to the aid of someone else.

And here he was, brought down to their level. Stuck in a position where he was powerless to help people, one where he was as pathetic as they were.

And slowly everyone sank to their knees.

Lila felt her jaw drop as people kneeled to the ground, bowing their heads so far their chins touched their collarbones. Even the police were amongst them, including a very reluctant chief, knowing they too were powerless.

But it was when her friends joined then that Lila felt herself truly burning with anger. She looked down on them with betrayal but only Gerald met her gaze. Arnold was much too ashamed and kept his eyes down. Helplessly, Gerald tugged on her hand and pleaded with his eyes for her not to do someone stupid, for her to join them.

But she refused.

"Oh?" She heard Serec's voice direct itself at her. Looking up, ice sunk deep into her soul and nestled in her heart. She wanted to look away, but she remembered Blue Jay. She remembered how hard she'd fought against this man, fought for them, and resisted that urge. "Looks like we have a rebel in our midst. How comical."

All gazes snapped toward her.

The way they gaped at her, like she was insane, only made the anger burn brighter. How was she in the wrong? She refused to bow to this . . . creature. She didn't know what he intended to do, but she knew it wasn't good. In fact, she suspected that their demise was a guarantee if he won. Lila was afraid to die, as most were, but she refused to go out cowering. Her mother raised her better than that.

A droplet landed on her cheek and, for a moment, she thought she'd been crying. But another one landed on her shoulder, then her hand, and she looked up to find rain falling from the sky. Dark clouds with glowing edges moved across the sky but the moon still pierced through like fire.

Lila turned her attention back to the grinning man who had began crossing down the street. The way Serec smiled at her, the way he looked at her—like she was just his entertainment—only made her angrier.

Gerald tugged on her hand again, this time harder, and managed to make her stumble. "Lila," he whispered through gritted teeth, eyes still on Serec. "What're you do-?"

Frustration bloomed in her chest and she snatched her hand from his. She saw the hurt that twisted in his eyes as he looked up at her but she was much too irritated to care. "What you should be doing," she hissed. She turned back to the fox-like man, who had stopped to watch the show with amusement. "And I will never kneel to pigs like you."

She felt Gerald and Arnold freeze beside her. They turned up to give her panicked looks but she kept her gazes on Serec, pouring all her hate through her eyes.

His eyes suddenly lit up and the grin stretched further across his sharp lips. "Ah, that alluring look—in your eyes—it reminds me of my lady . . ." he mused and placed a hand to his heart.

To her astonishment, he turned to gaze at the moon with a look of a man in love. The way the beams shone down on him, tangling in his hair and flashing from his teeth, he looked how she'd pictured Romeo when serenating Juliet.

"Of course, that's not what she'd say," he said and slid his gaze back to her. She noticed how his smile slightly shrank. "She'd say something like—"

"Eat pig shit?" asked a voice.

One that didn't belong to Lila.

It was a good feeling.

The way he stared at me like I were a figment of his imagination. One that had managed to escape the confines of his mind and step out into the real world. As horror twisted on Serec's face, the crowd behind him gasped and turned to one another to whisper their astonishment. I noticed Lila amongst them, still red from her encounter, watching me with eyes frozen open.

Her hair brandished in the silver light, like dancing fire, and contrasted with her emerald jacket. She stood above everyone else, even above Arnold, which surprised me.

"Of course," I continued, stepping forward. My hands pressed into my blood–soaked uniform, but adrenaline coursed through my veins, I could barely feel the hurt. "I prefer how she worded it."

The wind licked the strands from my face and caressed the gash above my eyebrow.

"H–How—" the way Serec stuttered made me proud. He looked like he'd just seen a ghost, which, in a way, he technically had. "How did you—"

"I told you," I smirked, stepping forward again. "I'm Hillwood's Guardian. And I'll always be here to defend it from stupid assholes like you."

He pressed his lips together s the shock in his eyes turned to irritation. He opened his mouth to fire back when he suddenly paused. His eyes sank from my face and ran down my legs to my feet.

A grin lit up his face.

I frowned, following his line of sight and—

Shit.

As I'd been walking forward, I hadn't taken notice of the shallow pool of water I now stood in. Spurts of water had formed from the broken hydrant and formed a large lake that covered the road. Moonbeams hit the ripples, which tore through the area.

Serec's hand pulsated with a crisp light and he snapped his fingers. The water around became thick layers of frost that encrusted both the roads and cars. It cackled bitterly as it curled around my leg, encasing me in an icy fortress.

The cold chilled me into a clumsy numbness as I tried yanking myself free. The iciness seeped into my toes and flowered through my thigh. The wind wrapped around me like a shawl and my teeth chattered.

"Defend them, you say?" Serec chuckled and clenched his fist. The frost climbed up higher, wrapping around my thigh. "Let's test your little claim, shall we?'

His words were like tiny claws tearing into my skin. I fought to keep my features neutral, to hide the wave of panic that grasped my heart.

Serec flung his arms into the air and a blast of blue flew from his hands, forming into icy daggers. They gleamed white in the light and shot through the air like bullets. My heart clenched when I realised where they were headed for.

Sharp screams rose as the ice soared for the crowd. I made a noise from the back of my throat and tried yanking my leg out of the ice. As everyone leapt up, Gerald pulled Lila to his chest and traded looks with Arnold. Looks that belonged to children who couldn't find their mother's.

Another frustrated cry ripped from my chest. Criminy—it was hard to breathe. Like the air was made from poison. My throat felt swollen, my lungs too heavy. Serec's laughter rung in my ears. I wanted to claw through the ice, but my gloves wouldn't let me.

Then Arnold looked at me. Silvery tears glimmered in his wide eyes as sweat glistened from his skin. He looked like he wanted to scream, but was too stunned to make a noise.

"No!"

My vision blurred as a barrier suddenly popped up around the crowd. It flashed blue, shimmering, and protected them from the ice. The people gasped as the shards merely made the barrier ripple before disappearing in tiny bursts of white.

The wind whistled in my ears as tears bit through my mask, gliding down my face.

The barrier dissipated and all eyes turned in my direction. My heart thudded painfully against my ribs and I looked down at my shaking fingers. They were coated in a blue light that sizzled against the dark. A wave of bumps popped up on my arms and I realised the buzz that flowed through my veins.

My powers were back.

Serec turned to stare at my hands.

They were back . . .

Something bubbled in my gut; it was powerful and warm. It thrived like adrenaline, but it was lighter—powerful.

. . . and here to stay.

I squeezed my hands into fists and the ice around my body shattered as blue slithered up my legs. Sharp wind crossed my face and my hair pulled free from its braid and danced around my shoulders. My blood was boiling, and I glared up at Serec, throwing down my glowing fists. "You—" I wet my lips "—you shouldn't have done that."

His face darkened, eyes boring into mine like lava, and he gritted his teeth together. Another icy dagger materialised next to him and shot into the air for me. It travelled at the speed of sound and I yelped, holding up my hands defensively.

Shit, what had I done? How had I summoned that shield? I conjured an image of that Mutant, the one from a week ago, that had attacked me with its vine–like arms. My body twitched with the urge to run but Arnold, Lila and even Gerald—they flashed through my mind.

I shut my eyes.

It felt like a balloon was being pulled from my skin and was being blown up bigger and bigger. Something like hundreds of knives were thrown toward my bubble and a thunderous pulse shook my bones but nothing happened.

I opened my eyes.

The barrier was transparent, but bright—it seared my retinas. It almost looked like water as ripples spread across the surface from where the ice struck it.

Serec glowered then stretched out his open hand into the air. My stomach dropped in horror, I hadn't realised the rain that had been pelting down on us. The tiny droplets suddenly froze and hardened into tiny needles. My barrier winked out of existence as Serec threw his hand forward, ice flying at me.

I heard Nel shout something from behind and I just barely managed to bring up another barrier in time to meet the blows. It felt like my skeleton was vibrating in my body and my teeth clacked together. The force was so strong that my concentration was thrown off and my shield disappeared.

Shit.

Serec smirked and thrusted his hands forward. A wave of tingles ran down my spin and I shuddered. A metallic screech came from behind and water droplets sprayed over me. Nel's voice wasn't the only one shouting at me, everyone in the crowd cupped their mouths to yell words I couldn't distinguish.

I turned around to a cloud of gushing water that had burst from the fire hydrants and rose into the air. Deep blue waves galloped for me, larger then any Mutant I'd seen, and spat beads onto my face. The ground shook and rumbled beneath my feet.

I yanked up my hands and a forcefield wrapped around me like a globe. The water crashed down with a force that knocked me to my knees. The pounding in my head intensified as little beads of sweat rolled down my forehead. It felt like someone had thrown weights onto my arms, it was getting hard to keep them up. The sapphire glow from my forcefield flickered against the water and I clamped down on my tongue, shutting my eyes.

I needed to concentrate—I needed to block everything out. I needed to forget people watching, forget where I was and push every ounce of strength into the flashing at my fingertips.

Then, it was gone.

Coldness slithered underneath my uniform and nibbled on my arms. I heard a rush of wind and ice crackling from all around me.

I opened my eyes and gasped—the water had frozen around my forcefield. My breath came out in tiny puffs as I scanned the ice that had formed around me in a C–shape. Heart hammering, the forcefield zapped from existence and I rolled out from underneath the ice.

I couldn't stop the sense of victory—I'd done it. My forcefields were back and I . . . I finally was no longer alone.

Still crouched down, I looked up to give Serec a teasing smirk, but it disappeared when I realised how excited he looked.

"Finally, milady!" he shouted with a twisted smile. "We're getting started!"

He snapped his fingers and heat rose in white vapour from the frozen ground. It floated and curled and tangled in my throat. He smirk and twisted his fingers and a surge of ice flew from his tips.

A swirling storm of silver roared in my ears, charging for me. It was a blizzard, one that erased the street from behind Serec. Everyone's screams were swallowed by the howling wind.

I struck out my hand and shot out another wire to the top of the building across from me. Ice pellets hit my shoulders and I ran forward, my hand still up and connected to the wire holding onto the building. I jumped onto the hood of a car and kicked off onto the surface of the building behind it. I didn't slow my momentum and ran across the wall, ignoring the cold that slid down my back.

The avalanche behind me bit my heels and ice spread like fire across the windows. The ice burst into loud explosions and glass fell over my shoulders. I kicked off from the wall and soared through the air like lightning to the opposite building,

Gritting my teeth, I planted my feet under where the wire was connected and watched from a safe distance as the snowstorm fired away. Flakes swirled in unseen currents and fountains of glass shards flew across as windows exploded from the ice. Biting my lip, I watched Serec who laughed as the storm raged on.

I spotted the people behind the dividers, watching with panic, and unsure of what to do. Thankfully, they were behind Serec, so the blizzard hadn't touched them.

Suddenly, Serec snapped his arms down by his side and the blizzard vanished in an eruption of white smoke. The ice melted back into water which joined the rain in hitting the pavement, washing away the frozen patterns.

Rain ran down my face and soaked my hair. I felt myself shivering from beneath my uniform. Serec didn't see me hanging from the building and smirked, scanning the abandoned area with self–approval.

"Is that all you've got, Elsa?!" I couldn't resist shouting at him. His smirk faded and he whipped up to look in my direction. His jaw went slack when his eyes found me hidden away from his attack.

I watched as my words hit him and confusion crossed his face. "Elsa?"

"You better tie those shoes extra tight because our waltz has just become a tango!" I continued and shot out my other hand where another projectile shot from my wrist. The silver wire connected with the building opposite me and on Serec's left. "Ladies first, of course!"

I didn't give him enough time to react. Kicking off from the window, the night air soared past me as I flew across the street. I watched him from the corner of my eyes, he rose a glowing hand, and, for a moment, I thought he was going to freeze my wire again. But he paused then lowered his hand, smirking. "Things have finally become interesting, milady!" he said.

Reaching the roof, I gripped onto the edge as rain hailed down onto my body. Everything felt slippery as I heaved myself up onto the roof. Little water droplets drenched my hair, which slapped across my face, and thunder rolled across the sky. Coldness seeped through my soaked sleeves and chilled my skin. I looked around for anything, but it was empty up here. I could only spot a bright red door on the far end, one that would take me inside. But I decided against this, it would only mean more property damage and possibly a dead end.

Criminy, would I have to fight him again? I'd barely escaped before. And my powers were shaky, I still had my injuries—I pressed a hand to my abdomen and the burning made me grit my teeth—whatever happens, it would have to be quick and away from everyone.

"I was beginning to think you didn't want to be found."

I looked over my shoulder at him, he floated in the air like an angel. His hands were in his pockets and his hair moved like he was underwater. Frost spidered across his boots, which must've been keeping him afloat, and a proud smirk danced across his face.

Pushing myself to my feet, I turned to him with an air of confidence. "Oh, but how could I refuse thou's charms?" I asked slowly, hoping my clenched fists would hide my shaking.

Thunder reverberated as lightning flashed across the malevolent skies. Serec smirked with amusement and swung his hands, sending a massive blast for me. Biting my teeth, I leapt out of the way. He sent another blast which I ducked to avoid, ignoring the ice that sunk into my shoulder.

He struck again, ice bursting from his palms, and I didn't even think as I rose my hand in the air. But it was wrapped in a bright blue orb. The blast crept closer and I struck down and watched as my glowing hand tore through the ice like tissue paper.

Serec looked over at me with—approval?

"Ah, I think I'm beginning to like this new side of you!" he remarked, landing delicately onto the roof's edge as the ice melted from his boots. His palms spewed silvery vapour that formed into another chain. His ringlets trembled and a midnight white smile lit up his face. "But let's see if you can handle my favourite toy."

He swung it out like a whip, and I spun around to escape when I felt is iciness burning my neck. I threw myself onto my stomach to avoid it and felt it whizz over my head so close that I expected my hair to turn to ice.

"Oh, don't run away!" I heard him laugh as he swung again for me. I rolled out of the way as the chain struck where I once lay. Dust sprung up and irritated my lungs. Hacking into my fists, I looked up again and found myself staring at the door.

And suddenly I knew what to do.

Leaping up, I ran again for the closed door and Serec overdramatically sighed. "You know," he quipped in an offended tone, "it's awfully rude to leave a party early."

I head the clankiness as the chain tore though the air and headed for me. Gritting my teeth, my vision went blurry as I manipulated forcefields to wrap around my legs. The distance between the chain and I widened as I manoeuvred the forcefields to move faster. Giddiness bubbled in my chest and I leapt up and kicked off the door. Blue sparks shot from my feet as I twisted elaborately into the air and missed the chain that flew beneath my shoulder.

Landing on my feet, my hands shimmered as I grabbed onto the chain which wrapped around the door handle. Before it could explode, a growl ripped from my throat as fire rushed through my veins. I heard Serec's breath hitch as the silver iciness of the chain suddenly burnt blue. I looked up to meet his flashing gaze before I tugged on the chain which sent Serec flying for me.

I ran for him and sunk my glowing fist into his cheek. Blood exploded from his mouth and he was knocked onto the ground, rolling to the edge. The chain disappeared from my hands and the forcefields melted into the night.

Rain trickled down my body, washing away the blood and sweat caught in my uniform. Serec's chest rose and sank with every shallow breath he drew in. my blood hummed in my veins as a fire took over and I marched forward.

"As I've said before, Serec, I am Blue Jay, Defender of Earth and Guardian of Hillwood," I recounted and felt my wet fists shaking. "And fuck you for threatening so much in one night." I paused and placed a hand on my hip when the struggling man stirred. "You may not believe it, but I will always protect me people."

Serec's arms shook as he pushed himself up from the ground. His clothes stuck close to his body as sheets of rain slid down him. I could see the outline in his tight shoulder muscles as he faced his back to me. He spat out a mouthful of blood, but I spotted a red tooth that joined the puddle.

I wouldn't lie, seeing him in this state—weak and vulnerable—it made me feel good.

"I will always be there to preserve its safety," I said and continued moving forward until I was in front of him. Serec looked up in time for my magic infused boot to knock right into his nose. He howled as his head knocked back to the ground, another bloody burst spluttering from his lips.

"Especially—" I pressed my boot into his cheek "—from disgusting, misogynistic pigs like you."

The suffering on his face was too much for me. I leaned in closer so that my lips were against his ear. He shivered when my breath hit his face. "Still find the look in my eyes to be alluring?"

His lips pulled back in a snarl and I smiled. I stepped away and the magic died from my boot, which allowed him to finally turn up to glare at me. But it only amused me.

He opened his mouth but didn't speak when something seemingly occurred to him.

Serec looked to the side, over the edge, and his face lit up with a shadowed smirk. My stomach sank into iciness—what was he thinking?

He turned back to me and plastered on a grin that didn't reach his eyes. Blood dribbled down his nose and got caught between his teeth. "Unfortunately, milady . . ." he held up his hands in a surrendering pose. "Lying underneath your boot is not nearly as exciting as I'd hoped for."

I quirked a brow.

He fired a silver surge for my face. I reeled back but it managed to cut across my cheek. I yelped and slapped a hand to my cheek, blood slipping between my fingers.

Shit.

"Damn it—" Looking down, I wasn't surprised to find the place he once lay was now empty. Rain ran down my neck and I stopped to consider his last words. "Lying underneath my boot . . . what does—"

Then, I noticed that, down in the streets, stood a girl with red hair and an emerald jacket. My heart jumped into my throat—Lila.

Her hand was pressed to her long skirt as she bent down to pick something up from the ground. Squinting, I realised that it was my knife—criminy, I hadn't even noticed I'd dropped it. Moonlight shone from the blade and into my eyes. I hissed and shielded my face, turning to the people behind the barriers screaming out for her.

I could see Arnold and Gerald fighting to get to her but hands from both the police and civilians held them back. I frowned in confusion, those who weren't holding back the boys were crying out in hoarse voices and pointing above her.

I looked to where they pointed, and gasped—he stood in the shadows. The whiteness of his form was a brilliant shock against the black. A grin was spread over his face, wide and open, that showed his beaming teeth. He shoved a hand out and a flash of blue from my peripherals caught my attention.

I looked to the right where a large blast, bigger then anything I'd seen, charging straight for Lila. It was a wave of ice which spit sharp icicles and thick pellets of snow. A roar echoed from between the buildings and the wind hissed across Lila, who looked up at the dashing blizzard.

Terror overtook her and she screamed, cradling the knife.

My mind was blank as I shot out my wire and swung down beside her. She yelped when I shoved her behind me and raised my hands above. A blast of blue flared from my fingers and stretched over our bodies. It shimmered and buzzed with a warm pulse.

Pure white snow cracked against the stormy blanket of blue with a thunderous boom. The ice shimmered like water and seeped over the dome, searching for an entrance, but failed. But the force was getting too heavy, I gritted my teeth and looked up—I could spy a crack forming across the forcefield.

Fuck!

I wrapped an arm around Lila's waist and pulled her against my hip. She squealed but wrapped her arms around my shoulders. One of my hands was still in the air as blue sparked at my boots. Keeping my shield up, I stumbled forward and leapt into the air.

It was like slow motion—my heartbeat jammed itself into my wind pipe. We both ploughed through the air, but the snow swallowed both our screams. Cold air wrapped around our bodies, but I could only feel my own breath.

A glint from the corner of my eye caught my attention against the raging white. I snatched the knife from Lila's hands and flung it through the air. I didn't know if it landed my target, it was much too cloudy to tell.

I felt the forcefield around us break and quickly wrapped myself around Lila. Everything shook around us, but I could feel our bodies getting closer and closer back to the ground. Pulling back my lips, I encased us in another barrier just in time.

The concrete cracked against the forcefield, which vanished when we safely made our landing. A spluttering of dirt and gravel rained onto our bodies and tickled my throat.

A dull ache gnawed from between my eyebrows and I groaned. Sitting up, I looked down at Lila, who hacked up the filth, and scanned her for any injuries. Her face was sweat and flushed red, but she seemed okay.

Still, I decided to ask anyway.

"You okay, Lila?" I croaked in a hoarse voice. The fight was wearing down on my body. Exhaustion laid thick on my muscles and sunk through to my bones.

She looked up with wide eyes and opened her mouth—

When a loud, cracked scream split the sky.

I looked up and, through the wall of mist that swirled around, spotted Serec's outline. It was dark and popped against the white vapour. He clutched his hand which bubbled blood from the knife that sunk through it.

The knife suddenly snapped from his flesh, earning another hoarse cry, and tore straight through the smoke. It travelled like lightning into my fingers. Pushing Lila behind me, I stood to my feet and watched as the mist cleared. He glared at me with shadowed eyes as he clutched his seeping palm.

The way he watched me, with red dripping down his face and his sharp, fierce eyes, I realised how much his appearance was aligning itself with who he really was—a madman.

I swung the knife around in a defensive stance and threw up another shield over my arm. "It's over, Serec!" I yelled.

He threw back his head and droplets of salvia burst from his open mouth. And he laughed, an awful gurgling cackle that had more salvia running down his jaw. Moonlight streamed from behind his figure. "Over?!" He fired back and bent over as he cackled some more. "Oh, milady, we're far from over!"

He held up his hand and blood flowed thickly down his wrist. "We're only just beginning!"

A strong burst of wind hurled around him, one so strong that I had to raise my hand to shield my eyes. The air stung my face, numb with coldness, and tousled my wet hair. There was a whoosh! and the wind abruptly stopped.

Blinking, I looked up, but Serec was no longer there.

And, with him, the wind, the ice and mist all disappeared—leaving the trashed streets of Hillwood doused with rain.

Sighing, I let my shield disappear and tucked my knife back into my boot. Turning around, I faced Lila who was still on the ground, watching where Serec once stood. "Lila," I said softly, holding out my hand. She looked up, startled. "You oka—?"

A gun clicked.

"FREEZE!"

I looked up into the angry eyes of the moustached cop—he held up his gun in shaky hands. His fellow officers watched him ludicrously, but some reluctantly followed his actions and pointed their guns at me.

"Are you fucking serious?"

The voice, it came from behind me. And sounded suspiciously like . . .

Lila marched forward and placed her body between me and the guns, holding out her arms. I noticed the moustached cop—I suspected the chief—growling at this. "Lila," he said, "get out—"

"She saved us!" Lila exclaimed, eyes flashing with anger. "And you're rewarding her by pointing guns at her?!"

The crowd behind the cops roared in agreement and began demanding they put their guns down.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY, LILA!" The chief yelled, his eyes trained on me. "She's dangerous, you don't know what she's capable of!"

I noticed Lila's fists shaking by her side. "I know that she's the only one capable of fighting that man!" She fired back. "I know that she can push herself much further beyond our abilities! I know that she can walk out of an explosion to protect us!"

She released a breath and shut her eyes. I traced my eyes from her shaking fists up to her shoulders and noticed how wound up she really was. When she opened her eyes again, they were different. They had always been so bubbly and deep, but now . . . it was like looking at fire doused in water. "I know," her voice was quieter, but still held as much venom, "that she's capable of doing a better job then you are."

I felt my jaw drop and Lila turned to give me a smile over her shoulder. "And I know," she continued, "that she's here to save us."

"Lila . . ." I mumbled.

The smile shrank when she turned back around to face the cops again. "Killing or arresting her would be going against your duty to protect us!" She insisted. "She's our only hope—if you get rid of her . . . you're signing all our death warrants!"

Her words burned in my mind. This was . . . a whole new side to Lila I hadn't witnessed before. She was always so kind and demure. She was the peacemaker, armed with love and patience, and always sought to understand and calm both sides. Never once had I seen her snap at someone. She wasn't apathetic but refined. But now . . .

Apparently, I wasn't the only one taken back by her outburst. Gerald and Arnold, no longer restrained, exchanged bemused looks with gaping mouths. So, this wasn't something that I wasn't understanding, this truly was out of character for Lila.

But . . . it wasn't the cops Lila was shouting at. No, she was specifically yelling at the chief. Her venomous words were directed at him. I turned to him and saw how torn he looked—he couldn't shoot without hitting Lila. His face twitched as his lips drew back into a stressed snarl. It was his job to protect the citizens, like it was mine.

It felt someone had slipped ice down my neck. I stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on Lila's shoulder. "Lila—"

"Keep your hands off her!"

The guns were trained back onto me and I jolted my hands upwards. Lila rolled her eyes and turned around to look at me questioningly.

My head was still pounding, and my tongue felt swollen. I released a cool breath and looked into her eyes. Hardened sapphires stared back. "Lila," I hesitated. "I . . . thank you."

And I wasn't just thanking her for tonight. I was thanking her for everything. For all the times she was kind to me even when I didn't give her a reason to be. Everyone viewed Helga like a bug stuck to their shoe, but she . . . she spoke to me like I was still Blue Jay.

She grinned at me. "I feel like I should be the one saying that."

The way she smiled reminded me of the spring. It was so bold and homely, warm and strong. Her smile was the season of inner calm and kindly stoicism etched in joy.

I surprised myself by smiling back before turning back to the police. A sea of faces stared back of me—some glaring, some watching with curiosity, others armed with guns and cameras. A muscle twitched from the corner of my right eye and my mouth formed into a grimace. "Okay—listen up!" I said and stepped forward. "I'm not your god damn messiah!"

There was a pause as confusion settled into the faces staring at me. I noticed the screen over my shoulder lighting up with my image again. My bright, blonde hair framed my face, a stark contrast to the dark mask that kept my features hidden. But my blue eyes burned bright, even from the dried blood that cacked the side of my face.

I cleared my throat, turning back to the crowd, and continued. "Nor am I your wonder woman! You reporters either write me like an infallible creature or an idiot kid who has no idea what she's fucking doing!" I barked a bitter laugh. "Well, here's a reality check—I'm neither! I'm an individual perfectly liable of making mistakes! Next time there's an attack—which there will be—your common sense has to be turned up three notches!

"You need to put your stupid phones down and get the fuck out of there! If you see any kids then get them out too! I need to protect you from shit like tonight, but guess what? Its really hard when people insist on sitting down to watch the fucking show!" I paused to take a deep, calming breath. I was still being recorded and there were surely kids in the crowd, I needed to tune down the cursing if I wanted them to listen. "I'm only one girl—an inexperienced one, but . . . I'm all you have! I'm the only one who knows just who the hell Serec is and how to fight him! Face it, I may not be great, but I'm all you have! Treating me like the enemy isn't helping anyone!"

Serec's laughter was still in my head when I turned to look where he once stood. The pale moon illuminated the freckled sky that moved with dim, grey clouds. The storm . . . for now, it was over. Coolness grazed my cheek and my eyes burned.

"Serec, he . . ." I took a shaky breath, "he's completely insane, but he—he's right about one thing!" I spun around to face the crowd again. "So, please stop treating me like a blockbuster movie and take this for what it is—attacks. If you see a Mutant, you should strive to get yourself and anyone else out . . . and don't villainise the cops."

I turned to meet the chief's bewildered eyes. "Because no matter what they're doing, or saying about me," I said, frowning, "remember that . . . it's all because they care about you."

This man seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve because I could see the thoughts that ran across his features. I'm sure, given my powers and general mystery, authorities were reluctant to work with me, unless it involved experiments. And clearly this man held no affection for me, but . . . we were still on the same side.

He clamped his mouth shut with a gruff look but moved his head in a stiff nod. The tips of my mouth twitched up as I nodded back at him, before turning back to the crowd. "And more then anything, remember this—I will never put my shields down."

I didn't look back at Lila as I shot out my wires high into the night. "For I am Blue Jay! Defender of Earth and Guardian of Hillwood! And I swear on anything and everything I hold dear—" my eyes met Arnold's "—that I will protect you all!"

The blue and red lights were little more then smudgy illuminations caught in the rain. A smile twisted my lips as Lila leapt straight into Gerald's arms. Arnold laughed and threw his arms around them both. Journalists were trying to get statements from her but the cops forced them back.

The Chief took off his hat, revealing his balding head, and approached her with a grim expression. Thunder rolled by but I couldn't stop the joy that shook in my gut—they were fine.

Thin, whispery air twisted through the jagged glass shards of the window and wrapped around my shivering arms.

They were safe.

The door behind me suddenly ripped open. I spun around with my heart in my throat.

"Helga?!"

Fluorescent lights flooded in through the doorway and shaped the tiny body looking up at me. I released a breath, "Oh, hi, Nel, I—oof!"

Before I knew it, Nel had leapt into my arms. "Helga, you complete half-witted imbecile!" She exclaimed, shoving her forehead into my shoulder. "You almost died!"

I wasn't sure how to respond. This wasn't the Nel I'd grown used to over the past week—she wasn't calm, cool and collected (yet secretly stupid). Now, she was a blubbering mess.

My mouth curved into a smile.

"Oh, c'mon, Nel, don't tell me you were—" I faked a gasp "—worried about dumb ol' Helga, were you?"

Nel pulled back to look up at me with wide eyes. It was an expression I'd never thought I'd witness on her face, I was half tempted to take a photo with my phone. Then her brows snapped together and the moment was lost. "No, I was simply concerned with how foolish you were to get yourself terminated," she snapped. "Because then I'd have to find another Guardian, which I haven't exactly yet, then I'd have to go through the tedious process of explaining to them why I can speak and then—"

I laid a hand on Nel's scalp, cutting her off. She paused and looked up at me as I rubbed between her ears. "Missed you too, numb nuts," I grinned.

She blinked then the corners of her mouth turned up into a smile. "It's good to have you back."

Holding out my hand, a small, glowing orb burst from my fingers, painting the shadows blue. "It's good to be back," I remarked.

Nel smiled at the orb in my hand, blue light dancing across her face and beaming in her eyes. She turned back to me with a hopeful, content look. "Let's go home, Helga."

A warmth spread in my chest. It was unlike the magic that powered my veins. It was softer and made the room swell with heat. The orb died in my hands and I made strides for the broken window—the one I'd crashed through with Eugene.

"Nel," I said, grinning, "I full heartedly agree with your statement."

The grin disappeared from her face as she looked between the window and the door I was explicitly not heading for. "Um, Helga," she blinked, "the door is that wa–AAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!"

Shooting out the wires, I leapt into the yawning night with Nel wrapped tightly in my arms. I heard gasps from below and cameras flashing as I passed over the crowd. Nel's claws sunk into my shoulders as we swung from building to building, night air tangling in my hair. But I didn't cry from the pain, instead I laughed.

"For someone who trained the great Blue Jay," I yelled over the whistling wind, "you are a baby, Nel!"

"HELGA!"

My eyes opened.

Air moved like cold water, reaching and curling in my bones. Black walls cried as shadows rolled like blankets of ashy clouds. Bright pink graffiti was sprawled across those walls. Squinting, I read their messages—

Those who seek forgiveness

Become those who judge misdoings,

Fire burns until it won't,

Love is felt until it stops,

Mercy becomes her hand,

Her sword cuts in both directions,

Two arms bless and protect,

Upon her shoulders rests the sky,

She becomes the hand who separates,

Those who have sinned against the mother,

Will find relief in their punishment,

She will stand by, counting,

Through her light, we shall find glory,

When the time is right, she will shine,

Truth will wait for your arrival

Footsteps echoed in my mind. I wanted to move, to run, but something held me back. A force was wrapped around my arms and legs, one I couldn't see. I looked down and recognised my uniform—I was Blue Jay, no longer Helga.

A silky giggle pierced the dark air and I looked up. A figure stood a few feet from me, dressed head to toe in white. A large hood was pulled over her face, concealing her features, but stopped above her bright red lips. Golden waterfalls ran down her shoulders and covered her breasts.

She stood lower then me and I realised why—I was on a platform. A stage. I was her entertainment.

She raised a gloved finger and snapped.

My blood became acid and burned my innards like boiling water. I fell to my knees and tried screaming, but only whimpers managed to escape.

Her red lips smirked.

"The games have begun."

Chapter Text

The scent of rain hung in the air.

Dazzling craters of rainbows glistened from the wet concrete and dew slid from the greenery around the railings. My pink fingers were trembling so hard that my shoelaces kept slipping through them. Ghostly chills collected across my skin and I shuddered, releasing a noise from my throat.

"C–C–Criminy."

I loved this sweater. Truly, I did. But it was very little to protect me from the cold morning air. I thought I was being smart by wearing a sweater instead of a jacket. The body was supposed to heat up during a jog so I figured I should wear something thinner. But it was freezing right now. The wind hit my shivering form and goosebumps raised beneath my sweatpants. I squeaked, hopping up and down, and wrapped my arms around my chest.

My hands rubbed up and down my arms, trying to get some friction, and I jumped onto the balls of my feet.

"F–F–Fuck, it's f–f–freezing."

Why the hell did people decide to get up this early?

The sun peeked through the haziness to paint the sky a molten grey.. I tried forcing my limbs into some stretching poses, but the wind made me shrivel back up with another squeak.

"Oh, f–f–fuck it," I mumbled.

Tapping the tip of my shoe, I was about to head out when the morning's newspaper caught my attention. It was placed on the bottom step, underneath the cluster of green from the bush's branches.

I hopped down the steps and crouched to read it.

Hillwood's Wonder Woman Sports a New Look?

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, criminy."

Reading the rest of the article was a true testament of my patience. It barely talked about what actually had happened—y'know, the fight, those two Mutants, Serec—and instead paid special attention to Blue Jay's uniform. Or 'costume', as it kept being referred to as. It was mostly bemoaning for how unattractive this one was, and how tragic it was that Blue Jay was 'hiding away' those beautiful, golden locks.

I didn't even make it halfway before rolling my eyes and kicking off to start the jog. Mist hung in the air and the chilliness slid to the back of my neck. As my runners kissed the concrete, a warmth shot through to loosen my muscles. The urge to fly was stronger than ever. Everything just moved so slowly in the morning.  But I figured that it'd be a tad bit distracting, even if most people were still asleep at this hour. And, you know, completely against the point of getting up to jog in the first place.

Slipping a hand into my pocket, I retrieved my phone and earbuds, selecting a random from my playlist. The sound of a guitar being shredded, and the voice of my favourite artist, electrified and pushed me to run faster.

The city crawled by as I ran down the streets, occasionally running into others with bright headphones. The sun was rising higher in the sky, but I couldn't shake that article from my head. Why did they have to make everything about my appearance? Yes, I was aware that Blue Jay was inhumanely hot, even with that mask, but she was more than her face.

Still, I mused as I turned a corner, it's not like my uniform change didn't deserve some notice . . .

"We need to talk."

Nel blinked, taken back by how serious and steady I sounded. "About what?" she asked cautiously.

I pulled the object I'd been fiddling with from my pocket and chucked it across the room. It landed with a light thud on the carpet in front of the bed. She looked at the pin I'd thrown at her then turned to me with confusion.

"My uniform," I said simply.

Surprise met her face, and she bolted upright. "What?"

"My uniform—it's horrible," I shrugged, placing my hands on my hips. "It's really unsuitable for my job."

"How so?"

The way she said it, I knew she was challenging me. And I knew that convincing her that my uniform needed a change wouldn't be a quick task. But thankfully, I'd already prepared with a mental list of reasons.

"Well, for one thing," I began, holding up my fingers to tick off my pre-meditated reasons, "running around with my bare thighs doesn't protect me from attacks."

Her initial reaction was to simply and apathetically roll her eyes. "Well, you should be quick enough to avoid—"

"Long hair is easier to grab," I interrupted without a beat.

"Well, perhaps we could shorten—"

"The wonder twins need to be supported."

"HELGA—"

"—my arms need more protection then those dumb, stupid braces!"

"Now, wait a minut—"

I slammed my foot down onto the bed a few inches from her nose. The cat shut up immediately and glanced from my leg down to my foot. Her mouth dropped when she saw the ugly, red spots, the blisters, some of which were bleeding.

"Heels—are—impractical," I stressed to her slowly. "They're hard to walk in and tire me out faster."

Nel didn't respond right away. Her attention was lost on one blister in particular, a bright pink spot on my little toe that burned far more than the others. There wasn't enough blood for it to start trailing down, but I moved my foot from the bed anyway, unwilling to risk it.

Nel looked back up at me, this time appearing more defeated. "Your uniform," she eventually said, "is a traditional statement—"

"Tradition can kiss my ass, Nel!" I shouted and threw my hands up in frustration. She jumped slightly, surprised either by my sudden movement or my language. "You said it yourself—I need to become a formidable soldier. How many soldiers do you see charging into fights wearing bikinis? Name one cop who wears heels on the job."

Dismay crossed her face and Nel lowered her gaze again, signalling that I had won this discussion. And a huge part of me was happy about it; that uniform had been nothing but a thorn in my side the moment I first wore it. The idea of designing something new that was more functional than it was a fashion statement made me practically giddy with excitement.

But another part of me was seized with guilt, one that swallowed me whole in one mighty gulp. I didn't know Nel's background, or even her relations with these traditions, but I could tell that it meant something to her.

I swiped my pin back up from the ground and sat down next to her. Nel didn’t look up; her gaze had moved to the other side of the room. I didn’t look at her. I knew I was inches from her but I decided to give her some space to think what I said through. Instead, I traced the wings on my pin and stared at nothing.

I tried ignoring the guilt curling in my chest. I didn’t want this getting too personal. I didn’t wish to speak over and trample whatever attachment Nel may have to this—whatever it was. But if she wanted me at my peak, she needed to work with me.

“Listen, I’m sorry if I’m trampling over this tradition thing, but let’s face it—” I turned back to her. “Our first priority should be fighting these fuckers. Defeating them. I need to be in my top shape and its hard to do that in a uniform that fights against me.”

She didn’t look back at me.

My words hung in the air as I waited for a response that would never come. I released a breath and turned back to my window.

The sun had since set so the city was soft and wet. Its glow had swollen against my window as stars crackled in soft swirls. Titling my face, I basked in the peacefulness of Hillwood. It felt like it’d been so long since the city had been allowed to just exist, without threats.

As I sat there, I considered Nel’s silence. The idea of changing the uniform really had an effect on her, in a way I hadn’t anticipated. Sure, I expected for there to be a debate, a moment that I’d really have emphasises that the cons outweighed the pros, but I hadn’t expected for her to appear so . . . lost about it. I wondered what this uniform exactly meant to her. It couldn't simply be 'just cause it's tradition', there had to be an emotional tie here.

A white flash shot through the window. It made me pause. There was the sound of an engine starting up as wheels turned in gravel. A car sailed passed and I understood that it had been Olga, officially setting off for college.

Good riddance.

"You're right."

My gaze snapped back to Nel. Her expression had hardened, eyes pressing into a determined frown.

"Alright," I grinned and punched the air victoriously. "Score one for Pataki!"

I skidded to a stop when I caught sight of Lila's house.

I pulled out my earphones, rock music still blaring as they hung from my neck. The bright red door, which led to her set of apartments, was surrounded by several people dressed in beige coats and hair tucked into fluffy hats. Gloved hands stretched above the crowd, carrying expensive–looking cameras, which were pointed at the shut door.

Were those reporters?

Fancy–looking, beautiful women spoke into microphones as overweight men shoved cameras into the windows. They all spoke over one another, their voices becoming a mangled mess, so it was hard to make out what it was they were actually reporting on. But I overheard Blue Jay's name a few times and the switch immediately went off in my brain.

Oh, you got to be kidding me. Was this over last night?

I suppose, in a way, I understood the desperation to speak with Lila. She had, after all, gotten in between Blue Jay and the infamous but mysterious Serec. In one night, she had managed to stand out to a villain who could control ice and witnessed Blue Jay's powers up close. She'd even shared personal words with the mysterious superheroine. Reporters must've been eager for those exclusive words.

Still, they were up quite early.

I looked over at the sky, where the clouds had melted away from the sun and the mist had begun to clear up. The light was turning warmer as birds began to awaken, some weakly singing groggy tunes.

Well, whatever. Lila's predicament wasn't my problem.

I meant to continue my jog when I felt a vibration in my pocket. I pulled out my phone from my jacket and read the text I had just received.

Are u outside my place?

It was Lila.

I frowned and slowly typed out a response. 

What. How'd you see me?

Doesn't matter. Her response was instant. Just stand outside my window.

In the alley?

Yea

What.

Just please?

Honestly, I just considered leaving. I hadn't signed up for this—whatever it was that she was asking. I'd only wanted to jog for a bit before heading back home where I could sleep in for a few hours. Nel and I had both agreed that, after last night, training wasn't strictly necessary and that I'd deserved some time off to take care of myself.

But a small amount of guilt shrivelled up in my chest when I remembered last night. Lila had been there for me, in ways she probably wouldn't understand. But her faith in my abilities, her unwavering support that she gave to not just Blue Jay but me, well, it reminded me that I did owe her.

I sighed, throwing back my head to glare at the sky as if someone were watching me. Good job, Pataki, you just had to go and catch a niceness for someone.

Pulling up my hoodie, I shoved my hands deep into my pockets and crossed the empty streets. The reporters were so wrapped up in their investigations that they didn't notice the teenager slinking off into the alleyway.

The walls were even higher then what I remembered. I couldn't see the sun anymore, just the blue sky spotted with white, fluffy clouds, as the air become colder. I pulled my hoodie closer to my skin and looked up to find Lila's window. But honestly, the last time I'd been here I'd been severely sleep deprived and it'd still been dark. So, I remembered fuck all, basically.

I stopped outside of what I hoped was her window. But it was several stories above me and the curtains were drawn, so it essentially was a blind guess. I sighed and tapped my foot impatiently, pulling out my phone again.

Criminy, what was with this girl?

But instead of a text, I heard a hushed, "Pssssssssst—Helga!" from above me.

Lifting a brow, I looked up—and my next vision was of something dark plummeting to my face. It slammed into my eyes and the force sent me flopping down onto my ass. The back of my head slammed into something metallic.

Stars were dancing in front of my eyes when I came too. Pushing myself back up, I rubbed the back of my head, which hurt the most, and looked over my shoulder. Fuck me, that metallic thing I'd hit had been one of those stupid trash cans. Jesus, could they not find somewhere convenient to place these things instead of in my way?

Looking down at my lap, I was surprised that the dark item that had slammed into me was a backpack.

What?

A tiny whistling caught my attention and I looked up—

Plop!

—when a banana peel landed on my face.

I growled, muttering a particularly offensive word, and chucked it over my shoulder. There was a slimness that it left behind, which I quickly tried wiping away.

I looked over at the reporters to make sure the commotion hadn't gotten their attention. Thankfully, they were so loud and invested in their potential scoop that they hadn't yet noticed me. Rolling my eyes, I breathed a loud sigh and leaned back against the fallen trashcan, soaking up as much warmth as I could.

Then, a dark shadow passed over me.

Frowning, I looked up in time to catch a smaller body plummeting for my form. I screamed and felt the air whoosh from my stomach as a foot bashed straight into my cheek. My head slammed back into the trashcan as the body fell on top of mine.

Blue eyes blinked at me.

"Oops, sorry, Helga—" she grunted and jumped to her feet.

Lila's hair was tied back in a French braid that ran down her shoulders. She wore a green, flowery dress which fell to her knees. And looking at her worn, brown boots only made my cheek hurt more.

"That went over better in my head—oh, hey—" her eyes lit up in recognition. "You caught my bag. Thank you."

She reached to grab said bag from my lap and slipped it over her slim shoulders. I could feel myself bristle at how casually she was acting.

I stood to my feet, ignoring the slight wooziness, and placed my hands on my hips. "Why, you little—"

"Quiet," she whispered and pressed a finger to my lips, motioning to the reporters. "They've been there for ages."

My mouth dropped as she moved her finger. What was wrong with her?

"I—I don't care—" I stuttered, seriously questioning this girl's sanity. "You just jumped onto me—"

"I'm sorry!" she suddenly burst, slamming her hands together in a prayer formation. "But I could've hurt myself alone."

"So, you decided to use me as a landing pad?"

"I'm sorry, it was all I could think of!"

"Oh, well, then that changes things!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands into the air and stepping away. "Oh, look! The bruise on my cheek is clearing up—it's a miracle!"

Because, honestly, with the way my cheek was throbbing, I didn't even need a mirror to know that a bruise was already developing. This inkling alone filled me with enough rage to strangle this girl, let alone the fact that she almost killed me.

"I said I was sorry!"

"Um, Ms. Sawyer?"

"WHAT?!" We both shouted and whipped around to glare at the unfamiliar voice. But we froze when we realised that the voice had come from one of the many faces that now surrounded us.

The reporters must've finally noticed us because they now were perched here, rather then the entrance to Lila's apartment. There were so many of them that they were squished against the tight walls of the alleyway, effectively blocking us from leaving. Multiple made up faces stared, blinking in confusion, as they flashed cameras and microphones like swords.

Lila and I both exchanged panicked glances, our faces morphing into something very similar looking. Until I saw something light up in Lila's eye, a spark that lifted her brow and tugged at the corner of her mouth. I wanted to groan, scream and cry, because I didn't trust this girl and her ideas, not as far as I could throw her.

So, without any explanation, she quickly grabbed onto my hands and pulled me forward. We fell to the ground and crawled beneath the reporter's legs, who cried in surprise and dismay. The women who wore skirts in particular cried out as everyone moved out of our way, not bothering to stop us as we crawled away and out of the alleyway.

"C'mon, Helga!" Lila shouted as we stood up on the other side. She grabbed my hand again and yanked me out of the alleyway and into the street.

"Ms. Sawyer!" we heard one of the women shout.

We bounded down the streets like cheetahs, our sweaty hands entwined and swinging. The breeze shivered in my ears and I could hear the reporter's exclamations as they followed us.

My legs felt tangled as we ran, like I hadn't done so in years, and my face flushed red. Blue Jay was keeping me fit, but even still, I'd been jogging for a while before.

But I was surprised by how fast Lila's legs moved. She was a short girl, only slightly taller then Phoebe, yet she moved like a bullet. To the point that I struggled to catch up with her. And her grip was strong and warm, wrapped tightly around my hand, she was practically dragging me like I were a puppet.

Her face was also flushed, but a large, wicked smile graced her lips. She threw back her head, her braid flapping about like a rope, and let out a dazzling laugh.

I didn't know what to make of her mood when she suddenly yanked me around a random corner. I'd barely registered we'd made it into the outskirts of town when she shoved me into a nearby shop and slammed the door behind us. We pressed our bodies against the door, ducking underneath the large window, and held our breaths.

There was a rush of noise from outside, a trampling of office shoes and tangled cries as the reporters passed by the shut door. We heard them still shouting as they passed but didn't release our breaths until we were sure they were gone.

"Did you see that?" Lila asked when we couldn't hear them anymore. She slumped forward over her knees and wiped her sticky forehead.

"How could I not?" I said, sucking in as much breath as I could. I snuck a peek out the window just to check that they were actually gone. "Did you see that guy's face?"

"The one with the green tie?"

We both tried replicating the particular look of the guy in the green tie and burst into loud, dry giggles. I wrapped my arms around my stomach and bent over, wheezing.

"He looked like he was holding a pencil between his cheeks!" I laughed.

"Helga!" Lila gasped, slapping her hands together and chucking back her head, cackling.

Someone behind us cleared their throat and we turned to a tall brunette, staring at us with irritation. She was dressed in a black button–down and her hair was pulled back in a sleek low bun.

Her red lips dipped in displeasure. "Can I help you?"

Lila and I both paused, scanning the store we'd found ourselves in. The walls were a glossy black and golden mirror stretched right up to the gleaming roof. A warm, fluorescent light filtered down and bounced off the tiles, hitting each of the mannequins.

My jaw dropped.

The mannequins were dressed in a very revealing, very skimpy lingerie. Thin, black straps wrapped around the plastic torsos, cups were perfectly moulded to emphasis roundness and lace rested on top of the nippeless breasts. Tiny pairs of underwear were folded neatly in the display trays and I spotted several colourful vibrators along the far wall behind the register.

Lila gaped at me and I felt myself turning red.

Well, shit.

The door slammed behind us sharply.

"I don't even like this type of lingerie," Lila sighed, peering into her small bag. I was surprised by how unashamed she was about holding it in public. I mean, yeah, it wasn't that big, but it was just so bright and pink and there. Personally, I could never carry that around so casually, people would think I actually had reason to wear it.

"Well," I crossed my arms, "no one was forcing you to buy it."

The sun was bright and burned my eyes. I shaded my eyes and squinted up at the sky. The clouds had completely vanished, leaving the sky so clear that you would never even guess that there had been a fog.

"Are you kidding me?!" Lila spun around with large eyes. "Did you see how she was looking at us—she wanted to tear us apart with those six inch claws! I saved us by getting this!"

Oh, brother. Talk about an exaggeration. Sure, that woman had been scary–looking, but I doubt she would've harmed us for not buying something . . . I think.

"Yeah?" I lifted a brow challengingly. "And what're you gonna do with it, then?"

In hindsight, I realise how stupid this question was.

Lila frowned, looking back into her bag. Her forehead wrinkled as different thoughts ran through her mind. I rolled my eyes and pulled out my phone again, checking the time. Yeah, this was much later then I'd planned on being out.

But when I was looking back up at Lila, she was watching me with scheming eyes and a creepy smile. Whatever was going through her mind, I knew I was going to hate whatever came out of her mouth. "Hey, Helga—"

"No."

I turned around to leave her when Lila suddenly jumped in my way. Her eyes were panicked, and her arms spread out as if this tiny midget could possibly stop me.

"Please!" she begged.

"Look, you bought it, you keep it," I told her, trying to side step out of the way. But alas, for someone so delicate–looking, she was fast and blocked me.

"But it's not my type!" she insisted. "It'll go to waste!"

"Uh," I paused, blinking. "What is your type?"

Again, in hindsight, this question was stupid.

Sure, Lila wasn't as annoying as what she'd been before, but still I wanted to keep some distance between us. Distance which included not discussing what type of lingerie she wore.

"Mostly bodysuits," she said, oh–so–casually. "Or something corset–y."

"What's that, then?"

"Just a bra and panties," she said, shrugging.

I shuddered. God, I hated that word. "What's wrong with that?"

"It's the wrong type of panties," she frowned, winkling up her nose. "It's a lacey thong. I hate lacey thongs."

Jesus, why was I even having this conversation?

"Then, why'd you buy it?!" I demanded.

"It was the first thing I reached for!" Lila said then shoved the bag into my hands. "Just take it!"

I gaped at her. "What makes you think I'd wear it?!"

"Can't you just give it a go?!"

"No!" I fired back. "You give it a go, you bought it!"

"Yes!" Lila surprised me by yelling back, throwing her hands onto me. "And now I'm giving it to you! And it's ever so rude to deny a gift, so just take it!"

"No!"

"Take it!"

"Never!"

"Take the stupid—"

"Lila?"

Our eyes snapped over to a familiar–sounding voice. Both Arnold and Gerald stood a few feet from us, watching us oddly.

Inwardly, I cringed. When had they gotten there?

Gerald was wearing a bright, orange shirt and jeans that had too many holes in them. His fingers were tangled in a pair of keys that were now forgotten by his side. And Arnold—I stifled a groan—was back to wearing his ugly, warm-toned flannel.

The way they stared us made me conscious of the position Lila and I had fallen into. During our argument, Lila had shoved me against the wall, and I had pressed my foot against her chest to keep her at a distance. And her hands were stretched out for me, still holding that stupid bag.

Oh, geeze, was this the position to be caught in.

Arnold's eyes turned to Lila's hand and widened considerably. His mouth slightly dropped as his gaze swept from Lila to me and I could feel my face burning.

"Uhh, t–t–this isn't what y–y– you think!" I stammered, shoving Lila away and holding up my hands. Gerald gave me a flat look and Arnold stared at me weirdly. "W–w–w–we were j–j–just—"

"For a friend?" Gerald asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes!" I snapped my fingers and nodded. Then paused. "Wait, no—that's not what I meant!"

Gerald burst into a fit of cackles, which only made me more embarrassed. Blood roared in my ears and I couldn't resist looking over to Arnold. The poor guy looked how I felt, his face turning red as his eyes shifted away from both Lila and I.

Speaking of whom, that stupid redhead was also laughing, cupping her mouth with the hand that held the bag.

Great, thanks Lila, I thought bitterly. If they weren't already aware, please hold up the bag that shows we were just in a lingerie shop.

I looked away from the bloody traitor and thrusted my finger at both of the boys, who blinked in surprise. "Well, w–w–what are you d–d–doing here, then?" I demanded, well, tried demanding. Honestly, I'm pretty sure Peppa the fucking Pig sounded more intimidating then I did right now.

Gerald paused in his laughter to shoot me an extremely smug smirk. I felt my blood boil just looking at him. Criminy, I just wanted to punch that stupid look off his face.

"Actually," Lila said, smiling gently with twinkling eyes. "I organised to meet up with them."

Um.

"Huh?"

"So, you jumped out of a window just to get away from them?!"

Lila shrugged, unbothered with Gerald's alarm, and crossed her arms, leaning back in the bench.

"Yes," she nodded, propping her right leg over her left, "they were ridiculously relentless."

Arnold leaned over in concern and further away from me, which I wasn't sure how to feel about.

"You weren't hurt, were you?" he asked. Lila looked at him, her eyebrows raised, and he flushed when he realised the little amount of space there was between them.

Irritation—that's how I feel about this.

The air was heavy with sunlight and a breeze moved past us to throw leaves into the trees. The four of us were sat at one of the benches at Tina Park. It was one of the many benches that faced the fountain, which as it spouted water upwards into the sun, painted the air in a fine mist that made it glimmer like beads.

Lila had been explaining what had happened and as she did, Arnold exchanged concerned looks with Gerald. The more they did, the more irritated I became. I took my anger out on the fountain, glaring at it like I could shoot laser beams from my eyes. Unfortunately, that wasn’t a part of my list of powers, so I was left looking like a dingus.

Lila was sat between the boys, with Gerald on her left and Arnold on her right. I chose to sit on the bench arm, next to Arnold. Now, regardless of what Lila herself may believe, it wasn't for whatever feelings she liked to accuse me of having for him. No, it was because I'd much rather sit next to Arnoldo then Gerald. Not that it stopped Lila from sending me extremely unsubtle looks whenever Arnold glanced in my direction.

"No," I snapped, feeling my eyebrow twitch. Arnold turned to me, but I kept my glare on the fountain. "Cause it was me she landed on."

"You were her landing pad?" I didn't even need to look to hear the stupid smile in Gerald's stupid voice. Seconds barely passed when he burst into another fit of laughing. "Is that why you have a bruise in the shape of a foot on your face?"

Oh, so when it was Lila, he's concerned, but when it's me, it’s a laughing riot?

Now, don't get me wrong, I wasn't hurt that Gerald carried on, oblivious to the way Lila frowned at him. Nor was I bothered that he laughed so hard that he had to wrap his hands around his stomach. No, the matters of tall hair boy were of no such concern to me. But what did bite was when Arnold, so concerned before, also laughing.

His mouth twitched but he at least tried holding back his amusement. I chose to ignore that he needed effort, and mentally thanked him none the less for having some. But then he shared a look with Gerald and they both were left cackling.

I glared at Lila, who sheepishly smiled at me, then turned back to the boys.

"And that's how we ended up in honeywear," she continued over their laughter. "We had to outrun them, and it was the first place I spotted."

I nodded. “Yep, and Lila only bought that stuff cause she's an idiot—"

"Hey!"

"So—" I stood to my feed to face the boys, who looked up with mild levels of confusion. "You can just get rid of whatever idea you were thinking! I would never buy something so—" I wrinkled my nose "—weird."

Arnold and Gerald exchanged glances; Gerald mostly looked weirded out but Arnold seemed confused. Lila just raised her brow at me and leaned back, crossing her arms. She was grinning, which made me nervous, and I had a feeling her mind was conducting something I most certainly didn’t want to be apart of.

"It's okay, Helga," Arnold said, turning to me with a smile that made my heart flutter. "We know you'd never wear something like that."

My jaw dropped. Um, ouch.

Was that supposed to comfort me? Because I didn't feel comforted. In fact, I felt insulted. Very much so, in fact.

Lila's eyes widened as she turned to Arnold, but he seemed oblivious to the backhanded nature of his comment.

"God, can you imagine that? Pataki wearing—" Gerald suddenly choked. "—lingerie!"

His eyes then burst out like he had a wild thought and he laughed over his knees to keep laughing. He laughed so hard, he slapped his leg and tears welled up from the corner of his eyes. And I couldn’t lie, as he continued to laugh, it did begin to sting. Not that I cared particularly what Gerald thought, but . . . was it really that funny to imagine me like that?

Even Arnold, sweet and kind–hearted Arnold, couldn't stop the guffaws that fell from his shaking lips. Lila's mouth dropped and she glared at him in particular, placing her hands onto her hips. He looked away, slightly ashamed, but couldn't shake away the smaller bursts of laughter.

Wow, so this was my life.

"Hey, guys," Lila said, clucking her tongue in disappointment. "It's not that funny."

But the boys continued laughing. Gerald leaned over his side of the bench and Arnold had to suck in shallow breaths.

And so, it was because of this—two immature, giggling boys, and my extremely hurt pride—that I did something I hadn't woken up thinking I would today.

I leaned forward and snatched the bag of lingerie from Lila’s hands.

The laughter stopped. Blood burned my cheeks. I couldn’t look at either Arnold or Gerald and instead glanced over my shoulder.

I could feel their gazes though.

"On second thought," I muttered, cheeks puffed out. "It doesn't seem that bad."

Gerald's jaw dropped so cartoonishly I expected there to be a sound affect as his eyes popped wide open.

"H–Helga," Arnold stuttered, blinking down at the bag. "Y–You're actually gonna take it?"

"Y–Yes," I cleared my throat then continued. "Is it really that hard to believe?"

The way his widened eyes traced up from the bag to my face made something dance inside of me. His face morphed into something similar to Gerald's, his jaw falling right to his collarbone as his eyes stuck to mine. Butterflies moved in my chest and I had to look away. Criminy, was I ever going to get over this?

Lila almost knocked me over as she jumped up to throw her arms around my shoulders. I yelped and tried pushing her away, but she was surprisingly quite strong.

"Aww, Helga," she grinned, squishing her cheek against mine. "I'm sure it'll look lovely!"

Criminy.

"S–Shut it!" I shoved the redhead away and dusted off my sweater. She hardly seemed bothered and continued grinning at my red face. "Now, if you all don't mind—not that I care—I'm just going to continue—"

"Lila?" A voice said form behind. "Guys!"

Lila looked over my shoulder and a smile lit up her face.

"Oh, hey!" she shouted, sticking up her hand to wave the person over. "What took you so long?"

Rolling my eyes, I looked over my shoulder and felt my breath stop. It was the girl from the library! The one who had—I growled slightly—been flirting with Arnold.

She waved back at Lila, not noticing me, and moved around the fountain to get to us. She wore a white tank top that hugged her figure and a pair of tight–fitting jeans. Her shaggy bangs were pinned back, and her hair ran down her back.

She was so effortlessly pretty that it hit me that between her cuteness and Lila’s everything, Arnold wouldn’t be looking anywhere near me.

Great.

The girl beamed like she was a diamond.

"Sorry, the buses changed their schedules," she leaned over her knees to catch her breath. Her hair fell over her shoulders and I noticed the butterscotch freckles on her skin. "I missed the regular one and had to wait for the ne—YOU!"

I started when the auburn–haired girl suddenly stood straight and pointed at me. She looked like I'd just murdered her dog then stolen her wallet.

"Um," I blinked and pointed at myself. "Me?"

She turned to glare accusingly at Lila. "What's she doing here?"

My jaw dropped when she pointed her thumb at me. Did she just ignore me?

"Sorry," Lila smiled at her apologetically and shrugged. "I ran into her."

Ran into me?

"I thought it'd be cool if she joined us," Lila continued and wrapped herself up in her bare arms.

"Cool?" I parroted.

"Joined?" the girl demanded. She glared at me again and I stepped back. Geeze, this girl could give Serec a run for his money. "How's it cool to hang with, well, her?"

The smile on Lila's face shrunk as the girl made a wild gesture towards me. "Well, for one thing—she did save us yesterday, including you . . ." Lila trailed off, looking pointedly at the girl. The girl turned to her with a hard look, communicating her downright disgust with the idea of sharing my air. "Don't you think we owe her one?"

The girl clamped her mouth shut, like she wanted to argue, but Lila still had a point. She looked between us, her face hardening when she turned to me, then let out a small groan.

But I was more focused on what Lila had just said.

"Save you—what?"

I mean, I remembered my encounter with Lila last night. Who didn't? But . . . that had been as Blue Jay. And, furthermore, I hadn't even met this girl who, for whatever reason, hated my guts.

Both the girls turned to me with looks similar to what I imagined I'd receive if I pulled a headlamp from my purse.

"Um, yes?" Lila frowned, stepping towards me. "You saved us yesterday . . . from that thing, remember?"

She raised her eyebrows, as if trying to get some secret meaning across. But honestly, I still had no idea what she was talking about and just stared at her. Finally, she sighed and muttered under her breath, "At the library."

"Oh, right!" I snapped my fingers. I'd completely forgotten all about the library incident. So much had happened since then.

Wait.

"It took your pen, didn't it? I gotta go get it."

God, had I actually said that? Christ, why didn't I grab her shoulders and shout, 'Yeah, I'm not normal! Hence why, after encountering some weirdo creature, all that I'm concerned with is your fluffy pen!' Honestly, I'm surprised she hadn't seen through that.

But looking up, Lila was watching me suspiciously. Her eyes traced my face and her brows slowly drew together. The air suddenly felt chilly on my shoulders. I could tell that my reaction didn't read as normal.

"I, um," my mouth moved without my knowing, "forgot?"

Yes, good job, Helga. Now, if she wasn't suspicious enough, straight up telling her you forgot about a super weird encounter won't set off any alarm bells.

"Well, despite how I may feel about you, Lila is indeed correct," the girl begrudgingly admitted, oblivious to the tension. "You save my life yesterday. So, I guess I'll learn to tolerate you for the day as a thank you. After all, if there's one thing I'm not, it's ungracious. Even if it's involving you, Pataki."

I was surprised by how much hate she managed to pour into my name. Especially with, glaring aside, how non–hateful she appeared.

"Ditto," I nodded. "Um, you."

Both girls stared at me incredulously.

Ugh. Don't tell me—I said something stupid again.

"Um, Helga," Lila suddenly appeared by my side, which surprised me considering how far she was a few seconds ago. Her breath fanned over my ear as she laid a hand on my shoulder. "You don't recognise her?"

"Uh, no," I said, confused. "Should I?"

Lila—of all people—actually facepalmed.

"Oh," she groaned. "Oh, Helga . . ."

There was a loud thunk! as the girl slammed herself onto the floor. She was on her hands and knees, facing away from us, and her hair covered her face. I didn't know if it was just me, but I swear that an anguished aura had just fallen over her.

"S–She . . ." her voice was heavy, "She doesn't remember . . ."

Right, well, there's my answer—I had said something stupid.

I leaned over to Lila, who looked up tiredly, and whispered from the side of my mouth. "Oi, Lila, do I know her?"

"You seriously don't remember her, Helga?" Lila asked, looking at me like I was the dumb one. And I didn't appreciate how extremely patronising she was acting towards me.

"Well, if I did," I snapped, placing my fists on my hips, "I wouldn't ask, would I?"

But Lila only sighed.

"Savannah Lester!"

We both turned to the auburn–haired girl, who had picked herself up onto her feet to glare hotly at me. She had her brows pressed over her eyes and her fists were red by her sides.

Of course, me being 100% caught up and not lost at all, responded with a, "Huh?"

On the bright side, it's not like I had to worry that Lila would connect me to Blue Jay anymore. The way she was looking at me now, she wouldn't believe me even if I transformed right in front of her eyes.

"My name—it's Savannah Lester," the girl continued. She then smirked and crossed her arms, raising her chin. "Remember me now, Pataki?"

I blinked and looked up in thought. 

Lila's jaw dropped and Savannah made a strangled noise in astonishment. It was a noise I could only describe as being between that of a bear and a . . . hippopotamus. Lila buried her face into her hands and let out another groan from the back of her throat.

"No," I said weakly, not that it mattered at this point.

Savannah raked her hands through her hair and turned herself away from us. "She's even more heinous in person!" she screeched, though I think it was more to herself then anything.

"Did I chuck a spit ball at her?" I asked Lila.

Lila didn't even bother looking up at me. "Oh, God . . ."

The girl—Savannah—turned back to me. "Good morrow to ya miss," she said in a sudden Scottish accent. "Can aye interest you in some chocolate turtles?"

. . . oh.

"Camp fire lass!" I blurted out, pointing a finger at her.

She rose a singular eyebrow, which honestly scared me more then any of her glares. For safety, I took a step away from her and slunk behind Lila. Not that it did much, considering how much shorter she was then me. The redhead looked up with a tired sigh and wrapped her hands around her elbows.

"It's Savannah," Savannah said, without the accent this time.

"What happened to your accent?" I asked, frowning.

"Oh, does it matter?" Savannah snapped, throwing up her arms and stepping forward. Automatically, Lila and I both took a step backwards. "You beat me up in an alleyway and took my uniform!"

Oh.

Right.

"Yeah," I rubbed the back of my neck and looked away to hide my disappointment. Sometimes I forgot how many lives I tormented, ones that weren't just Arnold's. "I'm sorry about that."

Savannah paused, eyes large and mouth hanging open in a warped kind of shock. Lila slowly turned to look up at me, her own expression like Savannah's.

"What?" they both asked in unison.

"I'm sorry," the words felt weird coming from my tongue. But honestly, it's not like Savannah, or even Lila, didn't deserve to hear them. I passed Lila my bag as I stepped around her to approach Savannah, who narrowed her eyes. "I was in an, err, pickle and saw your uniform as a window of opportunity. I didn't stop to think about the person wearing it. It was stupid and selfish and disgusting. I'm really sorry that I did that to you, Savannah."

The response wasn't immediate. I don't think either of them fully processed anything past my saying 'I'm sorry'.

But the way I was being stared at made me uncomfortable, so I shuffled my feet and looked away. Some withered leaves were spiralling in the soft wind and my hoodie fell from my head. The sun's rays were harsh on top of my head, curling around my ponytails, which wrapped around my neck.

"Helga . . ." Lila's hand fell on my shoulder as she looked up at me, impressed. I rose an eyebrow at her, unable to understand why she smiled like that.

"Did I say something wrong?" I asked.

"No," she shook her head. "In fact, quite the opposite. I'm impressed."

Her response only made me more confused. Call me biased, but I didn't see the big deal in me apologising for being an asshole in the past.

"I don't forgive you," Savannah spoke up and stepped forward. She crossed her arms as her hard eyes bore into mine.

"Nor do I expect you too," I admitted with a shrug. Then, I did something that surprised us all—I smiled at her. "Just know that I'm sorry for what I did to you, Savannah."

Silence settled around us as Savannah gaped while Lila watched oddly. I'm not sure if it was over the apology or simply the smile.

Savannah blinked, her mouth opening slightly, and something crossed over her face. But she turned away and muttered a small, "Whatever," underneath her breath. But I could spot a slight pinkness to her cheeks.

For a moment, I wondered what brought on that reaction. But shrugged and turned back to Lila, who blinked in surprise. "Well, since I probably won't be allowed to leave anytime soon," I said, turning back to Lila, who blinked in surprise. "What're we doin' today?"

"Hm? Oh! Right!" She snapped her fingers and beamed at the both of us. "Well, we don't really have a plan. But we were supposed to head to Bigal's for breakfast—" she checked her watch "—of course, I'm fairly certain that it's lunch at this point."

I nodded and gestured for Lila to hand me back my bag.

"Right, alright," I said and swung my hand over my shoulder, holding the bag down my back. "Let's go then."

But before either Lila or I could move, Savannah held up a hand to stop us.

"Actually, before we go, I've been meaning to ask, but—" she pointed over our shoulders and we followed her line of sight. "—are they okay?"

We both let out choked noises.

The boys were still frozen in their positions on the bench. Their expressions were mortified, wide eyes staring at where I’d once been standing, like we had hit the pause button on their forms.

Irritation flooded me.

"Okay," I snapped, crossing my arms. "Now it's getting insulting."

Bigal's was the colour of forget–me–not blue.

The bright kind; the blue that was bold yet delicate, like a burst of optimism from tiny flowers. The walls were painted this type of blue, but were covered in photographs of men and women from the 50's. The golden sunlight fell through the windows and jazz music poured from the speakers.

The gentle murmur of voices were swallowed by the stomach churning sound of the coffee machine as it struggled to produce the steaming liquid. And despite this—sitting in the middle of a bubbling place with cheeriness that bounced from the blue walls—I was sitting in an awkward silence.

We'd chosen one of the bigger tables that was right next to a window. I was sat between Lila and Arnold while Gerald and Savannah were across from us. Lila happily sipped on her strawberry milkshake and bobbed her head to the music.

I looked over to Arnold, who stared out the window with his jaw in his hand. The sunlight poured around him and outlined his high cheekbones. I could count the light dusting of freckles on his cheek and had to resist the urge to touch them.

I turned down to our hands. They were so close, rested up on the table. I just needed to budge, and I would be . . .

Gerald released a satisfied moan as he dug into his omelette. I suppressed a shudder; there was a spot of sauce on his shirt and egg hung from his chin. Christ, you'd think the kid hadn't been fed in a month.

A deep growling caught my attention I found myself staring at a very agitated–looking Savannah. The sun glared through and cast a dark shadow from her now unpinned bangs. Her coffee was forgotten, as her chin rested on her folded hands and her eyes glared at me.

I turned back to my chips and poked them with my fork. They'd since gotten cold since I didn't have an appetite right now, despite not having eaten since last night.

"You didn't have to buy me lunch, y'know," I muttered, cupping my cheek.

"Don't be silly, Helga," Lila waved me off with her hand. She placed her milkshake back on the table and beamed at me. "You saved us all yesterday, a couple of dollars pales in comparison."

Oh, criminy, this again?

"Do you have to keep bringing that up?" I asked, rubbing my forehead. "It was nothing."

All eyes snapped towards me in alarm.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?!"

Conversations around us halted as curious and annoyed customers turned to stare in our direction. My fellow, err, lunchmates didn't at first realise this, so focused on what I'd earlier said. So, clearing my throat, I motioned towards the staring people and, when my lunchmates looked around, they at least had the decency to look embarrassed from how loud they'd been. And I wouldn't lie, seeing Gerald flustered did make me feel a lot better.

Arnold's face lit up with a hot flush and he looked away until the customer reluctantly returned back to their conversations. Sensing that we were no longer the centre of attention, he looked back to me.

"Helga," he whispered, his face still slightly warm. "You saved us from that thing."

Surprisingly, Savannah nodded in agreement. "Yes. By not only pushing us out of the way—"

"—but stabbing it in the neck!" Gerald continued, stabbing his fork into the air. I rolled my eyes at him; apparently he'd gotten over his earlier mortification.

"It was truly an astonishing sight," Lila added.

I opened my mouth to protest against their claims. I mean, sure, I pricked the Mutant, but it was hardly anything in comparison with Blue Jay . . .

. . . then remembered that a) we were still in public and this really didn't require a debate and b) remaining so nonchalant about it would only make me look more suspicious.

"Whatever," I finally muttered.

But this apparently wasn't the best response either. Gerald's mouth dropped, exposing me to his nasty chewed up food, and Lila rose an eyebrow.

"Your modesty is astounding," she noted slowly.

I heard a snort and turned to Savannah calmly sipping from her mug. But I didn't miss the hard edge to her eyes as she watched me from over the rim.

"As is your lack of bruises," Arnold said, and I felt him leaning in closer to me. Looking up, I saw how his narrowed eyes were on my neck, scanning for bruises. My cheeks heated up when his breath washed over me. "From what Gerald told me, that, um, thing held you pretty tight . . . yet you look fine. No discoloration or anything . . ."

Fuck.

I turned away back to my fries. Not that it was the smartest move. Looking away only gave Arnold easier access to my neck which, as he'd pointed out, had no discoloration. Normally, I was more than grateful to have faster healing reflexes. But, as of right now? They sure weren't doing me a whole lot of favours.

"Yeah," Gerald agreed, and I looked up to him stroking his chin. Again, I rolled my eyes; I recognised that look in his eyes. It was his conspiracy eyes; the ones that lit up whenever his brain was putting together one of his dumbass theories. "Not to mention the way it slammed you into the table. Was kinda rough, to say the least."

That's what she said, I thought in my Steve Carell voice. Of course, thinking in his voice instantly made me want to laugh. So, I bit down on my tongue to hold it back. Because right now wasn't the time to start giggling to myself.

"Wow, I didn't realise I was in the presence of some of Hillwood's greatest detectives," I snapped. Arnold blushed, closing his mouth, and looked down at the table. "Is it that difficult to believe that I'm just a fast healer?"

Which, technically, wasn't a lie. It was just a partially hidden truth.

"Says the girl with a giant footprint on her face," Gerald said, lifting a brow at me.

I glared hotly at him which he hardly seemed effected by. He narrowed his own eyes and scowled at me. Oh, he is so lucky I only used my powers for good and not evil.

Arnold shifted uncomfortably. Right, I forgot how much he hated tension. Especially when it came from Gerald and me.

"So, um, Lila—" he cleared his throat, turning to the redhead, "—was there anything you wanted to do today?"

Yeah, of course he'd ask her that.

"I'm not quite sure," Lila admitted with a shrug. "I guess I just needed to escape that house."

She leaned forward to wrap her lips around her white straw. Her neck bobbed as she took long, delicate sips from her milkshake. Her eyes shut in satisfaction and I opened my mouth to make a Steve Carell joke, when I noticed Arnold's sudden switch in behaviour.

He squirmed uncomfortably as his gaze slid from her neck up to her lips. His face became even redder when he looked at her shut eyes. I watched as his hands moved down to his seat but didn't need to follow where they landed. Because, unfortunately, I could guess exactly what was running through his head.

And I wasn't sure how to feel—uncomfortable that I was next to him or upset that it wasn't over me.

Gerald must've recognised the look on his face too. The darker boy leaned forward and raised his eyebrows in a saucy dance. Arnold blushed even deeper, looking down at the table, which was surprising since I'd figured the blood would be rushing elsewhere.

"I wouldn't mind," Lila continued, wiping her face of any of the milk, "continuing our biolg—"

"Oh, that reminds me, Lila," Savannah interrupted with a snap of her fingers. Arnold, Gerald and I released relived breaths, thankful she cut Lila off before she could finish that thought. "On the way here, I passed a hot dog stand and I think they were giving out keychains of that anime character you like."

Lila's eyes lit up, but Savannah was oblivious and looked up in thought. "What was it—Amelia? No, Am—"

"Ami?!" Lila demanded. "From Shugo Chara?!"

I stared in astonishment as a gleeful smile took over Lila's face, right to the tips of her ears. It wasn't like her other ones—either polite and distant or encouraging and friendly. No, this was impish; it glowed from the inside out as her eyes popped open.

Savannah blinked, leaning back as she watched Lila with surprise. "Uh, yeah," she said weakly.

Lila suddenly jumped up from her seat, rattling the table. Gerald swore and Arnold quickly steadied his chocolate drink. I grabbed onto Lila's milkshake, which looked like it was about to fall over the edge. Thankfully, the milk remained in the cup, as she'd had quite a bit beforehand, but I still turned to glare up at her. "Oi, Lila—"

"Where?!" Lila grasped onto Savannah's shoulders and thrusted her face mere centimetres from her own. "Where'd you see it?!"

"O–On the other side of town," Savannah stuttered, leaning back. But Lila's grip must've been strong because she wasn't able to move far. She shot each of us silent panicked looks, but we all shook our heads at her. Yeah, no, Savannah was on her own. "Near the Kiska. But I think they were only giving them to the first few hundred cust—"

"Right!"

Letting going of Savannah, Lila snatched the milkshake from my hands. This time, some of the pink milk actually managed to splatter over my fingers. Thankfully, Arnold offered me a couple of napkins with a small smile. My cheeks burned as I accepted them, mopping up the drink from my hand.

I opened my mouth to yell at Lila but paused when she threw back her head to chug the milkshake down at an impressive rate. I rose my eyebrows and Gerald let out an impressed whistle as we watched the strawberry milk disappear. She slammed down the cup onto the table and thrusted her finger at me. "Grab your coat!"

I blankly stared at her as she threw money onto the table. "I'm not wearing on—HEY!"

Before I'd finished, Lila hooked her hand around my bicep and pulled me from my seat. Some customers looked up in alarm as the small girl dragged me for the door.

"Hey," Gerald said from his seat. "Where're you going?"

Lila stopped which prompted me to run into her. The back of her head slammed into my chest, which fucking hurt. I grumbled to myself, massaging the hurt away, and ignored the way we were being stared at by the waiters. They looked irritated, to say the least, that we were blocking the doorway, but if they had a problem with it, they could talk to Lila about it.

"Isn't it obvious?" Lila asked Gerald, tilting her head. I don't even think she'd noticed that I'd run into her. "To get that keychain."

Gerald, Arnold and Savannah each traded confused stares with one another. Honestly, I wished I was over there with them, but instead I'd been chosen as Lila's prisoner.

"And," Arnold began with a frown. "you need Helga because . . . .?"

That, I decided, was an excellent question.

He then looked at me apologetically, like he were afraid I'd taken his question the wrong way. But I brushed off his concern with a shrug and half smile; he was right.

"I'm a vegetarian," Lila answered simply. "I need someone to eat the hot dog."

I frowned at her. "But I just ate—"

"Just meet us at the arcade," Lila interrupted with a forceful nod. Well, unintentionally. Again, I don't think she'd even been aware I'd said a word.

"Um, actually, can I come with you?" Savannah asked as she stood up. Gerald and Arnold watched as she shoved on her denim jacket and threw down some coins. "I'm not particularly fond of video games."

So, I tried again. "Then, can I just—?"

"Sure," Lila cut me off with a smirk. "Just try to keep up."

I gaped at the both of them. Was I just invisible?

"I was a camp fire lass and a part of the track team," Savannah said with a shrug when she approached us. But she didn't even acknowledge me and kept her eyes on Lila's. "So, I wish the same for you."

A silence passed over as the two girls shared a competitive grin. Tension filled the air and I could imagine lighting zapping between their gazes and meeting in a bright flash.

I turned to look at Arnold for help, but he seemed just as puzzled as I was. He turned in my direction and shook his head, shrugging. Gerald kept scooping more of his omelette into his mouth, his eyes trained on the girls like he were watching a movie.

Rolling my eyes, I turned back to Lila and tried inputting my opinion. "Um—WHOOOOOOOA!"

When I was swept off my feet—literally.

Throwing the door open, the girls broke out into a run. But, as Lila's arm was still wrapped around me, she dragged me behind her like I was a god damn flag. There was a sharp sting of air against my face and my stomach shot up into my throat.

"WHAT," I shouted over the raging in my ears, "THE FUUUUUUUUUUU—"

Arnold watched as Lila and Savannah whooshed out of Bigal's like two miniature cyclones, dragging poor Helga behind them. He wasn't sure how to feel as the door slammed behind them with a sharp whack! On one hand, Helga had appeared quite distressed and confused to the idea of leaving with Lila to collect the keychain she so desperately wanted. But on the other hand, even he couldn't deny how funny it had been watching Helga's eyes practically pop out of her skull as the petite Lila swung her around.

After the surrounding customers ducked their heads down either in their food or conversations, Arnold and Gerald both turned to each other with odd looks.

"Well, that was weird," Gerald said, lifting up one of his shoulders in a half shrug. And honestly, Arnold couldn't disagree with him. Everything about this morning had been weird; from running into the girls fighting outside of a lingerie shop, all the way to how downright bizarre their lunch had gotten.

"Yeah, weird," Arnold agreed, nodding his head. Gerald continued to scrap the last piece of his omelette from his plate as Arnold drank the rest of his milkshake. He peeked out the large window, to catch one more glimpse of the girls, but they had long disappeared.

A large part of Arnold was impressed; he'd never known Lila to be such a fast runner. She always struck him as someone who didn't have an interest in such an activity. She was such a delicate girl, always speaking politely, remaining at a distance from everyone and dressing quite conservatively. Granted, the girl had always shown a wild energy when it came to certain anime, which she shared with Gerald, but Arnold had gotten used to that.

He almost felt like she'd changed as much as Helga had over the past week.

Helga.

Arnold's mind kept running in circles, trying to figure out what could possibly be running through that girl's head. Like Lila, she had always kept people at an arm's length, only in a different way. She put up walls around herself and wasn't afraid to tell someone to leave her alone. He'd tried getting through those walls when he was younger, but it became very apparent she didn't want that.

But . . .

Then how was it that Lila could so easily break through those very walls? He had spent so much time as a child, so much patience, trying to get through to Helga, yet it had apparently only taken Lila a mere week.

But, then again, it was Lila.

"You think they'll be alright?" Arnold couldn't help asking Gerald.

The darker boy paused, looking up in surprise. Arnold's mouth twitched at the egg that got caught in the spare hairs above his lips. Gerald had recently grown an obsession with growing whatever facial hair he could, to match his brother. Unfortunately for Gerald, it apparently took a while just to grow a light stache.

"Yeah, probably," Gerald shrugged carelessly

Arnold nodded in agreement, "Probably."

"—UUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCC—omph!"

Lila suddenly halted, pressing her heels down into the dirt and sending jets of dirt sprouting into the air. But, even though she managed to stop herself, I, on the other hand, did not.

And over the park bench I fell.

I flipped over the back and landed on my shoulder blades, the world spinning before my eyes. My stomach heaved and I had to work hard not to let my lunch back up. My body was still buzzing from that run—I hadn't known Lila, or any human, could do that.

There was panting on my right, but it didn't belong to me. I assumed that it was Savannah, who had somehow managed to keep up with Lila.

"How—" she coughed, "—long's the line?"

I opened my eyes to a very playful spark lighting up in Lila's eye as she grinned at Savannah. She stood over me, blocking out the light, with her fists on her hips.

"Not that long," she said with a nod. "Come on."

But I didn't.

I was much too tired and still was seeing double of everything. So, I just lay here in the dirt, my arms spread out over the ground, as I tried sucking in as much air as I could.

Lila merely rolled her eyes and grabbed onto my foot, dragging me across the ground. I screeched and felt people turning around to look at us strangely. When I yelled at the dumb girl, she only giggled, which pissed me off further.

She then offered to pay for my hot dog and let me in front of her in the line. Now, I know I hadn't been that ecstatic before, but that'd been before she'd dragged me across town. Now she really did owe me.

So, grumbling to myself, I agreed and slid in front of the two of them. I ignored the dramatic bow I received from Lila as I passed her but flared my nose when they both giggled.

The actual hot dog stand was set up on the street across from The Kiska, in one of the smaller parks. It was one mostly older people went to because of how tiny it was compared to the others. It only had a few park benches, which were all surrounded in vast purple flowers.

Beams of sunlight glowed on my skin and the delicious smell of hotdogs and burgers made my mouth water. Children were running around as their parents stood in line, talking amongst each other.

Faintly, I heard music from the speakers. I didn't recognise the lyrics, but the song was very indie–sounding.

"Hey, don't you love this song, Lila?" I heard Savannah ask. I looked over my shoulder to a smiling Savannah leaning over Lila's shoulder. But Lila barely acknowledged her; her arms were tightly crossed, her fingers tapping on her biceps, as she glared up at nothing in particular.

"Mhmm," she stiffly nodding, not looking at Savannah.

I wanted to laugh at her sudden mood swing.

Savannah looked over my shoulder and frowned. Following her line of sight, I almost groaned—the line was long.

"I'm going to grab a bench," Savannah decided with a nod. "I'll pay you when you get back, Lila."

Lila didn't take her eyes off the van as she nodded. Savannah smiled and left to find a free bench.

I purposely didn't look at my phone the entire time we waited. I knew that whatever time it presented to me would make me want to cry. Because it took a while for us to get served and, by the time we did, my stomach sounded like a motorcycle.

But, finally, I was met with the smiling face of an overweight man with a fluffy, brown beard. The way he beamed at me reminded me of Santa Claus, but I was pissed, hungry and tired. So, I stared at him blankly and said, "Just a regular. Ketchup only."

He nodded and leaned forward over the counter to hand me a keychain. It was of a miniature girl with pink hair and a matching cheer costume. I raised my eyebrow—this was what all the fuss was about?

"You get the last one, miss," he told me happily.

I nodded and examined the keychain. What the hell was so special about—

Wait.

"The last one?" I repeated.

A cold sense of dread washed over me from behind and I heard a thump. Gasps came from surrounding faces and I turned around. Lila was on her hands and knees—in a similar position to Savannah—with her hair covering her face. She muttered to herself in a voice that made her sound possessed, but it was too low for me to understand what she was saying.

People stared at her in bemusement, wondering whether they should help her or call a priest. So, sighing, I bent down next to her and held out the keychain. "Uhh," I hesitated, unsure of what was happening. Lila looked up at me with misty eyes. "You can have it if you want."

Her hands slapped around mine as a wet smile spread across her red face. "Really?!" she demanded, her eyes twinkling with hope. "You really mean it?!"

Jesus, you think I'd just offered to pay her rent.

"Uh, yeah?"

"Thank you!"

The hot dog vendor looked all too happy when he handed us our orders. I don't think he appreciated how overly dramatic Lila had gotten. Not that I blamed him. She looked like she'd walked straight from The Exorcist.

Lila was overly cheerful as we headed for Savannah; she sung along to the lyrics of the song playing from the speakers and swung around her keychain on her finger.

I rolled my eyes.

Savannah was sitting on one of the benches in the shade, texting on her phone. Lila planted herself in the middle and handed Savannah her hot dog. As the two chatted away—about the weather, how cool the music was, something about anime—I sunk into silence.

I mused to myself how I had vowed, so long ago, to separate myself from everyone. Even before I'd become Blue Jay. I had told myself that I had to get over Arnold and, for that to happen, I needed to cut off all contact. Which had included his friends, which wasn't necessarily hard as they had never really been mine.

But—I looked at Lila as she laughed with Savannah—why was I surrounded by more of them?

I was pulled from my thoughts when my side began throbbing. Finishing my hot dog, I muttered that I was heading for the bathroom and didn't wait for a response. Thankfully, no one was inside when I entered so I was free to pull up my shirt.

I'd been meaning to change my wound wrappings today from last night. But I'd figured that I'd be home much earlier, which would've given me more time. The bandages looked dirty, no doubt from being dragged around everywhere and pulled across the dirt.

The door behind me opened, and I quickly pulled my shirt down. I switched on the water and washed my hands, facing the mirror. Savannah's face popped next to mine in the mirror as she glared at my reflection.

But she didn't speak at first. Not until I had shut off the water and wiped my hands on the paper towels. "I'm not falling for it," she declared.

I paused, looking up at her reflection. "What?"

"This phoney act, I'm not falling for it," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I know who you really are. As do they. I don't know why they're treating you like this."

I raised an eyebrow challengingly.

"Oh, really?" Spinning around, I gripped the sink and nodded at her. "Well, please, enlighten me—who am I really?"

I don't really wanna sit down
Not now, not now, not ever
Speed me down while you slow me up
I'll be here all night, take me down

"A bully."

Two simple words.

But they were punches straight to my gut.

The hate in her eyes burned straight through me. I turned my face to the dirty tiles, but I could still feel her loathing oozing from her pores.

"You've done it to every one of us. Made fun of us. Taunted us. Beat us. Made us feel like shit," she spat out. I drew in a gulp of oxygen, feeling my grip on the sink tighten. "You may have saved us yesterday, Pataki. But that will never erase those years of abuse we've suffered from your hands."

My throat tightened with emotions. So much it became difficult to breathe. Her words tore against me like a knife on my wounds. Savannah watched as I absorbed what she said with hard, cold eyes. I kept my gaze down, so she wouldn't see my reaction.

The silence between us grew until eventually she scoffed and left, slamming the door behind her.

When i saw you a fire
Started in my heart
I looked at you again
Yeah you've burned from the start

I shouldn't have come.

We didn't leave until the afternoon.

Savannah expressed her regret for essentially ditching the boys. But Lila assured that they loved their video games, so they likely weren't too bothered.

The sun had begun sinking when we finally left the park and shadows fell across the ground. Savannah and Lila both planned on grabbing dinner with the boys, but I figured I'd instead head home. I planned on doing so as soon as possible, right after I found a bus stop.

Unfortunately, the closest stop wasn't for another twenty minutes. I wasn't even sure of that, considering how quickly the night was falling upon us. But, as we walked down the streets, I recognised some of the alleyways and suggested we cut across them. By doing that, I knew we'd shave a good ten minutes off our walk.

Savannah protested against this, but Lila pointed out that if we stayed out for too long, we might run into trouble. And, given how the streets we were walking down were full of vacant warehouses instead of bustling cafes, even Savannah couldn't argue otherwise.

So, pulling up my hoodie, I led them both down the alleyway. The walls cast dark shadows that bled across the wet bricks. The girls were silent, but I noticed the way Savannah's eyes darted around.

A group of seven boys turned the corner, joking loudly amongst themselves. Their shadows were large and deformed as they headed our way. They were laughing and punching each other's arms. I pulled both the girls to the right of the sidewalk to give the boys room. Hopefully, they wouldn't pay us any attention.

"Hello!" one of them hollered as we passed. I didn't know who out of the three of us he directed that too, but, when I looked up, his smile lingered on Lila.

Looking at them, I realised how close they looked to Blue Jay's age. These boys weren't stupid teenagers, they were adult men, looking like they just got off a shift from work.

Lila and Savannah kept their head down, huddling together. The way each of the men leered at them made me shudder. I glared at them, wrapping my hands around both the girl's wrists, and pulled them with me.

"Hey, wait!" the same one called after me.

When we finally rounded the corner, I let out a sigh of relief even as I heard them laughing. We were on a sidewalk leading past the backs of several sombre–coloured warehouses. The south side of the street had no sidewalk, only a chain–linked fence topped with barbed wire.

Lila turned to me, "Helga—"

"We keep going," I said in a low voice. "It's not much further."

It was getting darker. The clouds were finally returning and piling up on the western horizon. The eastern sky was still clear, but greying, and shot through with streaks of pink and orange.

The air was getting colder. A sudden shiver made me let go of the girls to cross my arms over my chest. I looked around, hoping to find any other person, but realised that this place was completely empty. I frowned, why wasn't anybody out? It's not like it was the middle of the night.

Unless . . .

Was it the attacks? There'd been a lot of them recently. Maybe people were choosing to get home earlier as only bad things were happening on the streets now.

The sky darkened further. As I looked over my shoulder to glare at the clouds, I realised that four of the men were walking quietly twenty feet behind us.

Fuck.

I hadn't even brought my pin this morning. I'd figured it'd be a short twenty-minute jog. One so short that the chances of an attack would be slim. But now that I was out several hours since, I realised how fucking stupid that decision had been.

I listened intently to their quiet footsteps. It didn't sound like they were speeding up. I had to remind myself to breathe, I'd faced worse than this before. But that had been when I was transformed. I still retained some of Blue Jay's abilities as Helga, but only a small amount of them, which definitely didn't include my forcefields.

So, I took a closer corner with an exhale of relief. Hopefully, there would be people or at least cars once we got out of this deserted street. I rushed around the corner with a grateful sigh—

And skidded to a stop.

The streets were lined on both side with blank, doorless and windowless walls. I could see, lounging against the western building and midway down the street, were the other three men from the group. They watched with excited grins as I froze dead on the sidewalk.

We weren't just being followed—we were being herded.

"There you are!" the same man from before shouted at us. The light glinted off a part of his mouth, which I realised had a silver lip ring. He grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets, and swaggered over to us.

I held onto the girls and darted to the other side of the road, but a sinking feeling told me that this was a wasted attempt. The footsteps were louder now.

"Where's the fire?"

Growling, I whirled around to give lip-ring a piece of my mind, but Lila's shaking palm on my shoulder told me otherwise. She looked up with alarmed eyes, her jaw trembling.

Shit.

Seeing this side of Lila—another one I wasn't used to—only made me angrier. Growling at the shadowed men, I barked at them, "Piss off!"

"Don't be like that, darlin'," one of the men called, and the raucous laughter started again.

I shoved the girls behind me and spun around to glare at them. But as the shadows poured around us, I couldn't tell them apart. They were still laughing as they closed around us, some mocking me in girly, high–pitched voices.

I braced myself, feet apart, and tried remembering everything I'd learnt over the past week. I wasn't Blue Jay, but I wasn't useless. I'd still managed to take down monsters twice my height without my powers. There were a lot of them, but maybe I could take on these men.

Savannah's eyes widened. "Helga, look ou—"

Something zapped out and struck me in the nose. I reeled back and slammed against the wall. And, before I could blink, a cold hand wrapped around my neck and squeezed tight. I choked on the shallow air, my eyes watering, as blood ran down my lips.

Two more hands wrapped around my wrists and held them above my head. They were strong and a gust of awful-smelling breath washed over my face.

"There you are," the man choking me leered. He was the one with the lip ring and red hair stuffed into a dark beanie. I looked away from him, realising two other men had pinned down both my hands on either side of me. One of them, the right one I think, also had a baseball bat.

"Yeah," another heavier–looking man laughed. He approached Savannah, who shrank like a wilting flower, and slid his hand down her face. She looked down, trying to move her face away, but he grinned wider. "We had to take a little detour."

Another man, dressed in a suit with a bald head, smirked at Lila, raking his eyes down her body.

"You're a pretty one," he decided.

She looked away from him, wrapping her hands around her shoulders. I caught her gaze and felt my stomach shrivel with the sheer helplessness in her eyes.

"Unlike your friend," Lip-Ring chimed in, chuckling. His thumb drew circles against my neck as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. The fucker was actually aroused by our position.

The heavier–set man gripped Savannah's waist and took her jaw between his fingers. "C'mon, love," he purred, lowering his face to hers, but she kept moving away. "Why don't you give us a little lovin'?"

He was suddenly shoved away as Lila moved herself between him and Savannah. She spread her arms out to protect Savannah and glared up hotly at the man. "Don't touch he—"

He reeled back and let his fist smash into Lila's cheek. My eyes bulged and Savannah gasped in horror as Lila crumbled to the ground. The chilled streetlights fell over her shocked form as her fingers moved up to her face. Blood pumped down her cheek from the cut and fell over her fingers.

Her eyes widened when she looked down at her hand and Savannah fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around Lila. The man glared down at her, his large eyes poking out from beneath his hoodie, as he rubbed his fist.

"Dumb bitch," he hissed.

Lila's eyebrows drew together.

Fire boiled in my system and I launched forward and bit down hard on Lip–Ring's ear. Blood coated my tongue and he released a shattering scream. He let go of my neck to shove me away and my knee jerked up into his groin.

As he collapsed, I stepped onto the toes of the man carrying the baseball bat. His fingers left my wrist and I jabbed my leg up into his stomach, swiping the bat from his hand. Clipping the last man in the stomach, I swung around the bat and held it out at the gaping men.

"Touch either of them again," I barked out in a low voice, "and you'll regret it."

Lip–Ring clutched his ear in his hand as blood trailed down his neck and shoulders. His teeth ground together as he glared up at me.

But the other men laughed.

"Ah, man, I like this one!" one of the men said. He was dressed in a white button down, his green tie was loose around his open collar.

He approached me slowly, a disgusting grin on his face, and laid a hand on my shoulder. "C'mon, babe, put that down before you get—"

My palm knocked into his nose.

"I'll try to restrain myself," I told them calmly over his screaming. The man clutched his nose, spouting out salvia–covered curse words. The smiles fell from the men's face as they watched their friend reduce himself to a crying baby. Lila and Savannah both gaped at me, huddled together in the streaked light. "But I can't promise you anything."

"You bitch!" one of the guys screamed at me.

His face screwed up with lividness as he charged at me. Adrenaline went through my arms and straight to my knuckles. I swiped my phone from my pocket and chucked it towards Savannah. She yelped and clumsily caught it.

"Call the police!" I told her, ducking beneath a fist. I swiped up and connected the bat with his groin. He screamed, his hands flying to his wound, and I slammed my forearm into his temple, knocking him down.

"W–What—"

Another man lunged at her with his fists held up in the air. Savannah screamed, shutting her eyes, and clutched the phone to her chest. But before he could touch her, I jabbed my fist straight into his eye.

The impact was a burning sensation on my knuckles. I had to bite down onto my tongue to hold back my instinctual screams.

"Call the police, damn it!" I growled out.

I threw the bat at Lila, who quickly caught it. She blinked, looking at me like she was ready to take commands.

"Protect her!" I told her.

I saw her nodding before the hairs on my neck stood straight and I whirled around to a suit–wearing man throwing a punch. I jerked out of the way and his fist glanced my chin. I lunged forward and, grabbing the back of his neck, pushed his head down. My knee slammed into his face and blood splattered everywhere. The man cried out, holding his bloody nose, and I threw him across the ground.

There was shuffling and grunts from behind me, along with frantic mumbles, and I spun around. Savannah was crouched in the shadows, avoiding the men around her, with the phone pressed to her ear. Her face was red and stretched with panic as she yelled out the directions into the receiver. But . . .

It was Lila who surprised me.

The men were so much larger than her, yet she didn't appear afraid as she fought back against them. They lunged at her, trying to land a blow, but she slipped through their attacks with a speed I barely registered.

I watched as she slammed the bat right into the face of one of the men, then used her palm in an uppercut under his chin. The man staggered then fell to his knees, blood slipping between his fingers from his tongue.

For a moment, I felt disconnected.

Lila, she . . .

I noticed too late the tight fist full of gravel until my vision was overtaken with a gust of dirt. I reeled back and rubbed my eyes, screaming from the dryness. I heard a laugh before fresh ripples of pain travelled through my torso. The force behind his punch wiped me from my feet and onto the ground.

I moaned and my hands found their way to my torso. It was hot, much too hot, and I could feel something leaking. Opening my eyes, I realised that this asshole had managed to nail a blow onto my still–healing wound.

Fuck.

I looked up into his smirking mouth, the moonlight reflected from his teeth. He was the man that had earlier hit Lila. He pounded his fist into his palm, a move that normally would've had me laughing were it not for my injured side.

He went in for another shot, when—

SMACK!

Something struck out and smashed into his jaw. Salvia and teeth flew from his split lips as the man fell to his knees then onto his face. I turned to look up at Lila, her smile wicked.

The moonlight pressed in around her curves as she propped the bat onto her shoulder. Her other hand gripped her hips as she looked down at the man without an ounce of her usual empathy. Her hair burnished bright red in the white light and fell around her shoulder from the air.

I watched as she turned her gaze onto me. Her smirk softened into a grin, one that could melt stones, as the adrenaline drained from her face.

My tongue felt like sandpaper when I spoke. "Lila—"

A manic scream cut into the air and we looked up at the last man still standing. It was Lip–Ring; he charged at us like a ferocious animal, his eyes large and wild. An electricity fizzled between Lila and I, like whispered words, and suddenly we knew what to do.

She reached down and I grasped onto her hand, jumping to my feet. The pain in my side throbbed as Lila swung me to her left. I jabbed out my leg and my knee slammed into Lip–Ring's nose. Blood sprayed as he reeled back, and Lila slid out her foot to trip him.

He slammed into the gravel, dirt curling around his silent body. A chilled silence fell, only disrupted by the crickets and the sound of our panting. He lay down next to the suit–wearing man and I realised that the rest of them surrounded us at our feet.

My hand as still in Lila's.

"I—" My eyes found hers. "We tried to warn you."

Bright, gumball red, and deep blue flashed and lit the defeated face of arrested men. Silver glinted from around their wrists as cops lead them to the back of an open van.

Adults dressed in uniform approached one another in the shifting lights. Hats fell over their eyes as they whispered to each other, trying to get the story straight. The moon was high in the sky and I realised just how long I'd been out.

I growled and flung off the worn blanket from my shoulders. Damn it, this was the fourth time someone had thrown that onto me.

My stomach grumbled and I stood to my feet from my sidewalk. Dusting off my arms, I slipped through the darkness, ducking from the curious glances thrown my way. I'd already answered their questions and even had my knuckles wrapped up for the bruising. All I wanted right now was to go home.

But a tap on my shoulder stopped me.

I turned around, expecting it to be one of the cops, but met the bright eyes of Savannah. She quickly dropped her gaze to her dirty tennis shoes and wrung her hands. But I noticed, even in the shifting light, the way her cheeks glowed.

A couple stood a few feet from us, both dressed in thick woollen jumpers. The woman watched Savannah with worried eyes as the man looked at me sceptically. They must be Savannah's parents, still shaken by the events.

Seconds passed with neither of us saying anything. I almost broke the silence to demand why she'd stopped me, but my throat was stuck in my throat. Something about how small she looked held me back from voicing my irritation.

Finally, she let out a loud sigh. She shut her eyes and reached into her pocket. She chucked the object which I caught easily with my unwrapped hand. Looking down, I realised that it was my phone.

"Thanks," she said in a heavy voice.

"You're welcome," my own voice came out strained. The tension in the air was uncomfortable and Savannah shifted awkwardly.

I cleared my throat. "Well, I'm—uhh, I'm just gonn—"

"Thank you," Savannah interrupted, looking up at me. Her cheeks flared red but her eyes were set on mine.

I blinked. "I—what?"

"Thank you for, um, saving us—me again," she admitted.

For a moment, I didn't know what she was even referring to by 'again'. But a flash reminded me of what had happened not even yesterday.

"I, well, it's—erm—" I stuttered, unsure of how to act. I was used to Blue Jay receiving the praise, but this felt raw. It was bare and I didn't have a mask to hide behind. "It was nothing."

Kind of.

My side still stung, but I'd tucked my leggings high enough and zipped up my hoodie so no one could see it.

"Nothing?" Savannah repeated, her eyebrows rising into her bangs. "But you—"

"I may have been the one to fight them," I interrupted, folding my arms across my chest. "But you were the one who made the call."

She blinked, her lips parting as my words sunk in. Then her eyebrows pressed together and she looked away.

"What I did was hardly celebratory," she scowled.

"How isn't it?" I shrugged. "You're the reason they're in cuffs right now. Potentially, you've saved another girl from being attacked. Don't underestimate what you did, Savannah."

She blinked at me. "But I—"

"Are you hurt?"

"Well, no."

"Then, that's all that matters.” Stepping forward, I laid a hand on her shoulder and realised how shaky she was. Tilting my head, I forced an encouraging smile. "Be happy that Hillwood is safer because of you."

Slowly, I watched as the hesitation faded from her face. Her eyes traced my face, a smile tugging at her mouth, and her cheeks glowing again. Looking over her shoulder, I could see how much worried her parents were growing.

"Um, Helga—"

"Your Mum looks close to fainting," I told her, taking back my hand. "You may wanna get her home."

Savannah looked over her shoulder and shared a small smile with her worried mother. "Of course," she mumbled.

She turned around and went to head for her parents when something occurred to her. She stopped to look at me over her shoulder.

"Pataki—" she paused then a sly smirk lit up her blushing face. "You're different then from what I remember . . . I don't know what's with you, but—" she smiled "—you're not half bad anymore."

I blinked.

And she left, sinking into her parents' embrace.

"Um," I blinked again. "Thanks."

I looked down at my phone and turned it on. I groaned when I saw the time.

"Hey, Helga!"

Oh, come on.

I glared over my shoulder. 

"What, I just wanna go—" I froze when Arnold's eyes flashed in the red. A grimace played on his lips as he slowly approached me. "Oh, Ar—I mean, football head, what a surprise!"

Was I too happy sounding? I felt too happy sounding.

Arranging my face into my usual scowling formation, I placed my fists onto my hips and feigned what I hoped was confidence. "When'd you get here?" I asked in a deep voice.

My tone made him pause for a moment, but he shook his head and looked at me with a determined frown.

"As quick as we could," he said. "Lila sent us a text."

"Oh," I frowned, unable to help the jealousy that surged through me. So, it had been Lila who messaged him. But as soon as I noticed it, I shook it from my head. Because Christ, now was not the time. "Well, uhh, where's Gerald?"

The space next to him was empty. Normally they both stuck to each other like glue. Gerald was like a cloud that refused to leave Arnold's shoulder.

"He's with Lila right now," Arnold nodded his head in a random direction. "He's being all protective best friend."

"Oh."

I couldn't help noticing his features had hardened and his fists were wrapped around his flannel hem. My mind spun with reasons why he had taken such an agitated pose. Was it the situation? Or was he jealous that Gerald was with Lila?

A silence settled over us. It unsettled me. I still felt jittery talking with Arnold. And I hated myself for it. I regularly had conversations with cats and threw up magical shields. And I still couldn't talk to a boy without getting stuttery.

"Listen, Helga, I—" his beautiful green eyes found mine, so passionate and bright, but turned downwards. He rubbed the back of his neck as he shifted his weight. "I'm sorry we weren't here to protect you."

I nodded along with his words. There he goes again, being Arnold. Being the most perfect specimen poss—

Wait.

"Protect me?" I repeated. "Were you not listening to the cops? I beat those motherfuckers to hell and back!" I paused then added, "And Lila helped."

"I know," Arnold shrugged, but still seemed uncertain. "I just hate that I wasn't there for you girls. Those men almost . . . they could've . . ."

He was shaking. It was hard to see in the flickering light, but his hands were jittery and his voice broke as he trailed off. The colour had drained from his face and his eyes narrowed.

He was really bothered with what almost happened. Not that I could blame him. Arnold had the most golden of hearts, of course tonight's events would greatly upset him.

Releasing a breath through my nose, I forced my heart to calm its racing. It hurt to say this, but Arnold was really upset.

"They didn't harm her," I told him.

That made his face snap in my direction. His eyes found mine and his lips parted.

"I mean, one did hit her—but don't worry," I hastily added. "I made sure he regretted it."

As did Lila, to be fair.

He froze and then he lowered his eyes down to the movement of my hand. I frowned, following his gaze, then flushed. I hadn’t realised that I had stepped forward, as if to comfort him, and placed my hand on his arm. His bicep. I turned beet red. Oh, God, it looked like I was flirting him. Criminy, only I could get into this situation: trying to comfort my crush over his crush by accidentally hitting on him. His muscles were flexing beneath my grip, I noticed. And then, I mentally shook my head because why would I notice that? In fact, why was I insisting on still holding onto him? I should let him go—right now.

I hid my hand behind my back and cleared my throat awkwardly. It made him jerk his gaze back to me, face slightly red.

“Ah, then that’s relieving,” he admitted somewhat sheepishly and rubbed his neck.

"Yeah . . ." I looked down, unsure of what to do.

"But she's not the only person I'm worried for," he added, voice softening.

Right. I nodded along, deciding that I was just going to ignore what happened and, when I got home, take a very long and cold showe—

Wait.

I looked up and was surprised to find that his eyes were fixed on mine.

"Huh?" I asked dumbly. "Oh, Savannah? Don't worry, I got her out as soon as I could. She's the one that made the call." I rolled my eyes at him. "Seriously, weren't you listening, football head?"

"What?" He frowned. "No, Helga, I meant—"

"Helga!" Two thin arms wrapped around my neck and a body suddenly slammed into mine. A chin rested on the back of my shoulders and long hair tickled my neck. "You okay?"

"I was!" I growled, swinging around to find Gerald watching us in bemusement. "Until you got here! Get off me, you looney carrot-stick!"

"Awwww," I could feel Lila's pout as she reluctantly hopped off my back. Standing straight, I scowled at her and dusted off my shoulders. "Is that any way to speak to your partner in crime?"

I blinked at her. "We weren't committing the crime, you dunce!"

Lila winked and stepped closer.

"Ah," she waggled a finger between my eyes, "but you didn't deny us being partners."

My jaw dropped at her conclusion.

she burst out laughing. She wrapped her hands around her stomach, for once not cupping her mouth, as she cackled. The sound of her laughter lightened the weight in my chest, and I found myself smiling softly.

Then I noticed her cheek.

A slab of white had been slapped onto the high point, stretching from beneath the inner corner of her eye right to the tip of cheek. It didn't take a genius to know that underneath the bandage was the actual cut. But the skin that flowering from the edges was a deep red that eventually become a purple.

She paused, noticing my silence, and looked at me. A sly grin spread across her face as she pointed to her damaged cheek.

"Look, now we're matching," she teased.

"What?!" I shouted and touched my face. "You're kidding—it's still there?"

"Sike!"

She giggled at how I glared at her which only infuriated me more.

"Why, you . . ." I muttered as I held out my hands towards her neck.

Arnold suddenly let out a choked noise. He clutched onto his stomach and slapped his knee as he burst out laughing.

"You guys," he stuttered, his face red, "are so weird together!"

I blinked, unsure of how to respond.

"You can say that again," Gerald mumbled. I looked over my shoulder and our eyes locked for a moment. A small smile suddenly graced his lips. "Good job, Pataki."

"Um, I—well—" I cringed. Geeze, I was so used to Gerald and I fighting that a moment like this left me a blabbering mess. "Uhh, t–th—"

Something itchy and slightly damp was flung over my shoulders. Looking down, I realised it was that ugly fucking blanket again. I growled and snatched up the disgusting thing, looking for perpetuator.

"Who the fuck," I shouted, "keeps putting this stupid blanket on me?!"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Arnold, Gerald and Lila laughed at my expense. Well, Arnold at least had the decency to try covering it behind a weak cough when I looked at him. But I saw the smile that twitched at the corner of his mouth, I knew that coughing fit was as fake as Nadine's interest in men.

A deep chuckle suddenly came from behind me.

We all turned to a very familiar man grinning at us.

"It's for shock," he explained, his hands on his hips. "You were involved in quite the stir up, Ms. Pataki. It's only natural to assume you'd need it."

I felt my eyes widen.

This man . . .

"Get on the ground—NOW!"

He was the officer from last night. I was sure of it; he had the same dark brown hair and the same handlebar moustache. His skin was aged, that of a man in his mid-forties, and dots collected underneath his eyes. He stared at me softly with a warm, crooked smile.

I suddenly felt extremely jittery. Those eyes had glared so deathly at me last night. He'd made it very apparent that he wasn't a fan of mine.

"Um, right, well," I could feel my hands shaking as I rubbed my palms together. "I'm not in trouble, am I?"

I meant that as a joke. I'd never met this man before, as Helga at least, so I shouldn't be afraid of him. And yet the way that'd come out, so timid and fearful, was the exact opposite.

My cheeks flushed hot when Arnold and Lila looked at me strangely. I lowered my chin but kept my eyes on the Chief's face.

He laughed, a warm and welcoming sound. One that would've charmed me had the circumstances been different.

"You kidding?" He guffawed. "Nowhere near it—it was all in self-defence. Besides," he nodded towards Lila, "it saved her, didn't it?"

Looking at him, I noticed things I hadn't last night. Like the beer belly that spilled over his belt, the dark hair on his thick arms and the roundness of his face.

"I guess so," I muttered with a shrug. I lowered my gaze to my feet, unable to keep looking at this man. The gunshots ran through my head like screams, the bullets they'd aimed at both Serec and me. I hadn't had my powers back yet, so had it not been for my instincts, I would've been killed.

This man had almost killed me.

My heart began hammering like I was on the battlefield again. I pushed for my face to remain blank, but behind my eyes was an entire war.

"Can I give you a ride?" he suddenly asked me.

Again, I panicked. He was nice enough to me, but I just couldn't shake last night away. I didn't exactly want to me stuck in a car with him, especially not alone.

"Uh, no, it's okay," I stammered, raising my hands and looking up. "It's a short walk from here."

False.

It actually would be close enough to an hour. But honestly, I would rather chance the dark, the cold and the unknown.

"Walk?" The Chief asked, raising his eyebrows. "Where're your parents?"

I simply shrugged and looked away. My eyes caught onto Arnold, who also raised his eyebrows at me. He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes in a way that somehow communicated, 'are you okay, Helga?'

Oh, great, talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place.

"Well, I won't allow you to walk alone in the dark," the Chief said. I turned back to his moustache stretching across his face as his mouth turned up in a smile. "Especially considering what happened here."

"But, I—"

"As the Chief," he insisted.

I wasn't sure which option to take. His offer was tempting, it would shave a good forty minutes from my trip. And it's not like he could possibly connect me, a dumb teenager, to Blue Jay, vigilante extraordinaire. But, c'mon, who wanted to get into a car with their potential killer?

Granted, killer was kind of harsh. But hey, so was being shot to death.