PROLOGUE –
My breathing comes rapid, and raggedly. I fight to fill oxygen into my lungs. My pulse is racing to infinity. Oh why, oh why, oh why did it have to be me?
His weapons are built full of malice; to destroy with intent. He had none of those other little clichéd toys that other villains played with. His were set on one level and one level alone: terminate. None of the hokey little horseplay other villains did – you know, the stuff that was just to boast the fact that you’re hopeless? The stuff that gives real heroes a chance to escape as they’re being lowered feet-first into a pit of lava.
The only good things about his methods of torture were that you didn’t suffer long. Ka-blam and you were dead …. Quick and simple. After catching my breath for what seems like altogether too little time, I spring back into action.
There he stands, boasting to the rest of the world. His arms are outstretched as his cape flaps about in the wind, twisting around his ankles. It takes all my strength not to piss myself and scurry away.
“The hero,” his voice bellows down from the skyscraper. Gothic beauty, my art teacher would call it; The darkness in contrast with the lightness. An evil figure stands to reign over all … yet the beauty of the pink, setting sun blazing on the reflective city windows all around, almost like spotlights. “She is gone.”
I wish I could hear the gasp, the murmur that ripples through the crowd – or the laughs and snorts and the comments on how pitiful my defeat really was. I feel a familiar tug on my belly-button – my core – and I’m yanked into transparency. “I, Terminatrix, would like to officially familiarize myself with the citizens – those who will serve me in the eternity to come.” I scramble to my feet, careful to keep crouched low to the ground. My feet slide silently, my cape lashing between my leg, making it difficult to move with grace. Gruffly I thrust it away, trying to keep my lips clenched. Frustration always seems to get the better of me, and I’d rather not blow my cover now.
I heedfully lift the crowbar from the ground and sneak up behind Terminatrix, stepping sideways with care. I swing the crowbar above my head quietly, trying to keep all my power pent up to this one little action, yet still trying to hold a grasp on my invisibility. I bring the crowbar down. “I am now the successor of this city – you will be confined to its limits, and allowed no freedom of speech –!” With a heavy, bone-splitting clang he drops to the ground, and topples off the building.
That’s right, you better fall!
I lean gingerly over the edge, my ponytail whipping into my masked face. I can hear the cheers that erupt from the streets. I turn away delicately as my stomach becomes queasy with the sight – it was much too high up for my liking.
Lady Luck is quite the fitting name.
Spoiler
CHAPTER ONE –
"I … yes. I do. Kinda-sorta … Not a lot, though! I’m trying to convince myself not to anymore, so don’t worry!”
“Convince yourself? How can you ‘convince yourself’? Why? It isn’t your fault.”
“Well, you’re in a relationship … a-and I don’t blame you, either! She’s really pretty and nice, so I don’t want to … you know … be awkward?”
Too late. Babble on Master Babbler. You make yourself proud.
“I’m so glad to have a friend like you.”
Friend. Hmph, darn it. You think I’m content just being your friend?!
“But, y’know, it’s okay.”
“What is?” Idiot. Use common sense!
He chuckles. “Liking me.”
“I-it is?”
“Yeah.” Gosh, he’s adorable. “I liked you too last year!”
As unattractive as it really is, my mouth drops open and my eyes bulge out like a fat kid walking into Bulk Barn for the first time. However, in my case, my eyes are not swimming with the joy of how much candy fills the store, but in surprise.
“Milo!” I hiss, stomping over to a lock and slamming my back up against in. “Why, oh Lord knows, why – didn’t – you – tell me?!”
Should I slap him because he shrugs? No, I resist. But it’s oh so tempting.
“Guys don’t have to be the only ones to get confident enough to admit their feelings. Girls can too.”
“Nah,” I said, letting my head slam back against the locker. Who’s genius idea was it to decorate ceiling tiles with holes? “guys should. I have standards. Us girls like to feel like we’re in power.”
“You’re impossible,” Milo rolls his eyes, “but I’ll keep that piece of advice in mind. But why are you so … mad about it?”
“I’m not mad –”
“Why do all girls says that? Clearly you are mad.”
“I will be mad. Will you let me finish?”
Oh shut up adorable-Milo-apologetic-and-innocent face.
“Thank you. However, I am only frustrated because if I’d have only known it would’ve save me from all my self-esteem issues! But d-don’t worry” – babble, babble – “she’s real pretty and all so I, y’know, don’t blame you for liking her and all.” Then I added, “And, like, if you need any advice or anything … I’m here.” Gosh, it’s really hard to try and sound perky and supportive. Hard work. Now I know how cheerleaders must feel.
“Aw, Ellie, thanks!” he held his arms stretched out wide. He beckoned me forward for a hug.”
“A hug? Won’t that be awkward …?”
“Nah,” he said, pulling me into a hug. “I’d like to have a girl to fall back on. And because you’re too good for other guys; and I wouldn’t wanna share my Ellie.”
He’s a great hugger … But kill me now! Rebound girl? Great … just great. He’s so sweet though. Not insensitive at all …
“Now, about that other question …” he said, making me follow behind him down the hall.
Insensitive. He’s so insensitive.
I slumped against the change room wall, invisible as always. My cheeks are still burning. I press my cool fingertips against the pink skin, feeling the embarrassment burn warmth into the tips. Sure, you may think my feat was nothing, but it is; it really is. So they call me Lady Luck. So I can turn invisible. So I have a tendency to have the best of luck in the most trying times, but none whatsoever when it comes to boys. Fifteen … and never been kissed. Never had a boyfriend. Never experienced love. None of that good stuff, so obviously I haven’t run through home base, either.
The first time I tried to kiss a boy in third grade he ran away screaming. I was a crafty kid. The only way I would’ve been able to play jump-rope with the popular girls was if I had a boyfriend. And to have a boyfriend, you need to kiss them … right? So I chased him over to the big tree, puckered up and squinted my eyes shut before he pushed me down into the mud puddle and ran screaming to the teacher. My love life is really successful, isn’t it? I’m just a natural boy repellent.
I feel a vibration against my leg. Once, twice … three times. I look down at the illuminated screen. Milo. What does he want? Isn’t he too busy with little Miss Violet Childs? I let the call go to voice mail. He didn’t leave a message, but a minute later I feel it vibrate again. I look down, flipping open my slick green phone.
Where r u?
I let the phone slide off my knee and onto the ground where it clacks against the tile. It vibrates again, but this time in a more electronic way. A louder vibrato, yet more monotone at the same time. I lazily reach over, letting my fingers flip open the screen again. Milo again.
Ur going to miss the bus.
I’d rather not see you and Violet Childs making out, thank you very much. I’d rather mope here in all my invisible glory and pine for a relationship that I’ll never have. Let’s see … what type of boy will I have this time?
My mind carries me off to the gym, where I’m seated alone on the stage. The blue gymnastic mats and folded in half and are slumped against the wall by the storage closet. The door opens, and lights peeks into the far side of the gym. There he is, his hands pushed into his pockets. Milo. Wait, no, no, not Milo!
Okay … let’s see. Scratch the maroon hair and purple eyes … How about … loose blonde curls and hazel eyes? Yeah, like a cute little cherub. And maybe he has a softer, more open face. There we go, he’s cute. “Hi,” he says. He sounds like Milo. Er, let’s see. How about a how … Australian accent this time, instead of British? Yeah. Very cute – what?
There goes my phone again. I flip open the cover again.
Stop pretending like u rn’t reading this. I kno u r.
The buses just left, btw.
I throw my phone into my bag again, flicking momentarily back into visibility, before I flicker back again. Like a fuzzy TV signal. The texts stop coming, and I’m slightly saddened by this. I slump down against the wall. When the door creaks open, and the cheerleaders start filing in, I scamper out. Only my bag is visible, but I’m plenty sure they were too preoccupied with their own conversation to notice the bag moving out of the change room.
Surprisingly enough, pretty ultra-blonde Violet Childs isn’t on the cheerleading team. She’s the volleyball captain, and part of the tennis team. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s trying to convince Milo to go play doubles with her. Ick.
When I get to the front foyer of the school and become visible again. One of the niners looks slightly surprised by the fact that I just appeared. I adjust my kilt and push through the doors. It’s a thirteen kilometer walk from the school to my house. I’ll survive.
The air outside is cool. The breeze is even cooler. You can just smell the fresh rain in the late-summer air. September was like that around here. There was always a sixty percent chance of rain. And when the rain stopped, the leaves had all fallen, and it turned into a light snow, which later translated into a heavy snow which later translated into a long melting process in spring.
I lug my bag down the sidewalk, adjusting position on my aching shoulder every once in a while. To make matters even worse, I’m constantly afraid that the wind is going to all the sudden catch my kilt and take it with the breeze. Spandex or not, it was seriously embarrassing.
With the next great gust of wind I drop my bag to catch onto my kilt. Life would’ve been so much easier if I’d decided on my uniform pants instead of the stupid kilt. This was supposed to be a statement to Milo. That idiot … led me on. Made me think it was me he was talking about.
If you must know, last night Milo had been instant messaging me. It went sort of like:
Milo_Man: Hey.
Ellie_Louise_Eloise: What’s up?
Milo_Man: Just thinking about asking the girl I like out.
Ellie_Louise_Eloise: Oh, cool.
Milo_Man: You think she’ll say yes?
Ellie_Louise_Eloise: I have a very strong feeling that she will, yeah.
See? That is totally leading me on. And I was blushing at the computer screen and smiling like a dork the entire time. And now … now I feel like a total idiot. Just let the rain fall. I feel like there’s already a rain cloud trailing around above me like in all those cartoons. I was just about to get going again when I hear: “Hey, Eloise!”
I whirl around. Whatshisface is hurrying towards me, beaming and waving madly. He catches up quickly. “Where were you?”
“Um … at school?” Good one, Babbler. Of course you were.
“Milo said you weren’t answering his texts. Where were you hiding?”
“Um … at school?” Very nice, very nice; Repeating things now. I see how it is brain. Two can play that game.
Whatshisface chuckles. “Oh man. Well, he said for you to text him when you found your phone.”
“Thanks Whatshisface. I will, thanks.”
“It’s Marcus.”
“Thanks Marcus.”
He grins again. This kid is a grinning machine. “Okay, see ya later Eloise.”
“Bye Whathisface.”
Marcus starts walking down the street. Over his shoulder he calls, “It’s marcus!”
I pick up my bag again and start trailing along after him. He’s much faster than I am. He’s running. Why is he run – Oh. The rain starts pouring down. It’s like the clouds just opened up and let the rain out in bucketfuls. I’m soaked straight through almost immediately. I can’t even see Marcus through the thick haze of gray raindrops. Lady Luck my butt.
My bag bounces against my butt and my heels, making me stumble every so often as I jog down the street. I’m not even five kilometers from the school and already my knees feel like jelly: shaky and weak. I stop to catch my breath again, knowing what havoc all this rain is going to wreak on my textbooks and binders. I’d rather not think of how long I’m going to be sitting at home drying the crinkly, waved pages.
Maybe mom will do it.
I splash through a massive puddle before I find a bus station just around the corner. I retreat inside, the rain still catching my feet. My feet squish up against the soles and I feel all the water rush out into my knee-highs. I can hear my phone vibrating. I rifle through my wet bag and find the green phone safely tucked inside my science binder. I open it up and press talk.
“Hello?”
“Ellie, where are you? Marcus said he saw you. Why didn’t you text me back?”
“Whatshisface said to text you when I found my phone. I only found it now.”
“Are you walking home?”
“No.”
“Yeah you are; I can hear the rain.”
I want to chuck my phone into the street to be run over by a bus. Why is he so worried? What about Miss Violet, his girlfriend.
“I’m doing just fine, thanks. I’m nearly home.”
“I can get my dad to pick you up, and we can hang.”
As much as I’d like that, you little cutie, I’ll have to pass. “My mom can pick me up. I’m just trying to get a bit of a workout in.”
I hear Milo mumbling in the background. “Yeah, she says she’s walking … No, she won’t tell me. Can you pick her up … ‘Kay, thanks ... yeah, I’ll tell her,” he comes back to the phone. He must’ve had it muffled against his chest. “Dad says he’ll pick you up. Where are you?”
“My mum is already coming.”
“Oh, okay.” He can sense the tone of my wry voice; it almost sounds like I’m telling the truth.
“Okay, see you.” I flip my phone closed and shove it back between the plastic covers of my binders and step back out into the pouring rain.
What seems like a million years later I push open the door. Mom’s head pops around the door-jam and she gapes at me. “What – where is the heck have you been?”
“I missed my bus,” I lie. I throw my bag on the ground, grab my phone, and slump down the hall to my room. Mom doesn’t pry, but goes back to whatever she was doing in the kitchen. As a stay-at-home mom, she always had yummy snacks cooked. After I shower I knick a few oatmeal-raisin cookies from the cupboard and sneak back into my room, shoving the cookies in my mouth and dragging my bag behind me. I plug in the hairdryer and flip it on. I yank my history and science textbooks out of the wet mess that is my bag and start drying the pages. Maybe I can switch these two out for new, smooth textbooks.
Milo texts me.
So much for ur mom picking up, eh?
I roll my eyes. Of course he’s been watching out his window like a creep. I’m surprised he even wants to talk to me. I wouldn’t want to talk to myself if I’d found out I like myself … if that makes any sense. You’d think a superhero such as myself would have more luck than I really do. And no, I’m not lying about the superhero part. I’m being for real.
You see, years again in ol’ ’95, scientists gave a certain vaccination to children born with respiratory problems. Of course this thing was kind of hush, hush until a couple of years again when the first real Super (no, not superman) came about. His name was Sam Winford. He was the son of a rich man, and had the powers of flight and teleportation. They called him Zoom. Zoom was killed three years ago by super-gone-bad, Poison. Poison has sort of been in hiding since then.
Now, this “vaccination” was only seen around North America. A whopping three-thousand plus children were injected with the substance. Some died due to complications, and some were never able to harbor their abilities. According to the previous news report by Alistair Blair, there are only a hundred and thirty-three superheroes. Only twenty-seven of those hundred and thirty-three have actually put on a cape and mask and gone into public. Sure, I have a couple times. I’ve even got a couple of enemies – as weird as that is. But sometimes you just can’t stand around when you have a tendency to be outspoken sometimes, and you have powers. You can’t let people get hurt.
Just answer me, Ellie. Why r u mad?
Shush Milo, this is my time to speak.
So anyways. I’m known in the public eye as Lady Luck. Sometimes when you strop into town you happen to notice some trouble. Sometimes you get even luckier and find yourself face-to-face with a villain. I was named Lady Luck after my first three victories. When you can go invisible and dodge burning balls of fire and missiles and lasers you do tend to get lucky. Milo is called Sand Man because he can stop time (cool, eh?). We’ve partnered up a couple of times to stop this one villain called Pack Rat. We don’t really know where he is, but he’s probably eating cheese in the sewers or something. He was weird.
R u mad bcuz of Violet?
Finally I pick up my phone and turn off the hair dryer.
No.
Yes u r, he replies. Ur doing it again.
Ur being annoying, I reply. I’m plenty capable of walking home alone.
Milo sends a smiley face emoticon. Bout time u answered. I wanted to kno if Marcus was flirting with u.
I roll my eyes. No, of course he wasn’t. There’s other, prettier girls to waste his time on. No. Of course not. He was really smiley though …. I let my thoughts trail off there, because I don’t want to get my hopes up. That always happens to me and then I come crashing down when reality hits.
Whatever Ellie. I’m going to tell him u like him.
Milo, no! I send an angry face his face. He’s just provoking me now. How annoying – But adorable, when he does it in real life. Oh brain, shut up.
Why not? U think he’s cute.
Don’t assume I think he’s “cute” Milo. He’s always hanging around that girl, Jenny.
Lol, Milo texts, that’s his cuzin.
Whatever, I say, shutting my phone. Milo knows to stop bugging me. Besides, he’s probably too busy texting Violet. Ick. She’s really pretty though …. I flip the switch back on the hairdryer and continue drying the rough, crinkled pages of my history book.
This is just a rough draft, as I'll need to do some majour fixing later on. But feel free to read it if you like!
CHAPTER ONE - EDIT i
I … yes. I do. Kinda-sorta … Not a lot, though! I’m trying to convince myself not to anymore, so don’t worry!”
“Convince yourself? How can you ‘convince yourself’? Why? It isn’t your fault.”
“Well, you’re in a relationship … a-and I don’t blame you, either! She’s really pretty and nice, so I don’t want to … you know … be awkward?”
Too late. Babble on Master Babbler. You make yourself proud.
“I’m so glad to have a friend like you.”
Friend. Hmph, darn it. You think I’m content just being your friend?!
“But, y’know, it’s okay.”
“What is?” Idiot. Use common sense!
He chuckles. “Liking me.”
“I-it is?”
“Yeah.” Gosh, he’s adorable. “I liked you too last year!”
As unattractive as it really is, my mouth drops open and my eyes bulge out like a fat kid walking into Bulk Barn for the first time. However, in my case, my eyes are not swimming with the joy of how much candy fills the store, but in surprise.
“Milo!” I hiss, stomping over to a lock and slamming my back up against in. “Why, oh Lord knows, why – didn’t – you – tell me?!”
Should I slap him because he shrugs? No, I resist. But it’s oh so tempting.
“Guys don’t have to be the only ones to get confident enough to admit their feelings. Girls can too.”
“Nah,” I said, letting my head slam back against the locker. Who’s genius idea was it to decorate ceiling tiles with holes? “guys should. I have standards. Us girls like to feel like we’re in power.”
“You’re impossible,” Milo rolls his eyes, “but I’ll keep that piece of advice in mind. But why are you so … mad about it?”
“I’m not mad –”
“Why do all girls says that? Clearly you are mad.”
“I will be mad. Will you let me finish?”
Oh shut up adorable-Milo-apologetic-and-innocent face.
“Thank you. However, I am only frustrated because if I’d have only known it would’ve save me from all my self-esteem issues! But d-don’t worry” – babble, babble – “she’s real pretty and all so I, y’know, don’t blame you for liking her and all.” Then I added, “And, like, if you need any advice or anything … I’m here.” Gosh, it’s really hard to try and sound perky and supportive. Hard work. Now I know how cheerleaders must feel.
“Aw, Ellie, thanks!” he held his arms stretched out wide. He beckoned me forward for a hug.”
“A hug? Won’t that be awkward …?”
“Nah,” he said, pulling me into a hug. “I’d like to have a girl to fall back on. And because you’re too good for other guys; and I wouldn’t wanna share my Ellie.”
He’s a great hugger … But kill me now! Rebound girl? Great … just great. He’s so sweet though. Not insensitive at all …
“Now, about that other question …” he said, making me follow behind him down the hall.
Insensitive. He’s so insensitive.
I slumped against the change room wall, invisible as always. My cheeks are still burning. I press my cool fingertips against the pink skin, feeling the embarrassment burn warmth into the tips. Sure, you may think my feat was nothing, but it is; it really is. So they call me Lady Luck. So I can turn invisible. So I have a tendency to have the best of luck in the most trying times, but none whatsoever when it comes to boys. Fifteen … and never been kissed. Never had a boyfriend. Never experienced love. None of that good stuff, so obviously I haven’t run through home base, either.
The first time I tried to kiss a boy in Kindergarten he ran away screaming. I was a crafty kid. The only way I would’ve been able to play jump-rope with the popular girls was if I had a boyfriend. And to have a boyfriend, you need to kiss them … right? So I chased him over to the big tree, puckered up and squinted my eyes shut before he pushed me down into the mud puddle and ran screaming to the teacher. My love life is really successful, isn’t it? I’m just a natural boy repellent.
I feel a vibration against my leg. Once, twice … three times. I look down at the illuminated screen. Milo. What does he want? Isn’t he too busy with little Miss Violet Childs? I let the call go to voice mail. He didn’t leave a message, but a minute later I feel it vibrate again. I look down, flipping open my slick green phone.
Where r u?
I let the phone slide off my knee and onto the ground where it clacks against the tile. It vibrates again, but this time in a more electronic way. A louder vibrato, yet more monotone at the same time. I lazily reach over, letting my fingers flip open the screen again. Milo again.
Ur going to miss the bus.
I’d rather not see you and Violet Childs making out, thank you very much. I’d rather mope here in all my invisible glory and pine for a relationship that I’ll never have. Let’s see … what type of boy will I have this time?
My mind carries me off to the gym, where I’m seated alone on the stage. The blue gymnastic mats and folded in half and are slumped against the wall by the storage closet. The door opens, and lights peeks into the far side of the gym. There he is, his hands pushed into his pockets. Milo. Wait, no, no, not Milo!
Okay … let’s see. Scratch the maroon hair and purple eyes … How about … loose blonde curls and hazel eyes? Yeah, like a cute little cherub. And maybe he has a softer, more open face. There we go, he’s cute. “Hi,” he says. He sounds like Milo. Er, let’s see. How about a how … Australian accent this time, instead of British? Yeah. Very cute – what?
There goes my phone again. I flip open the cover again.
Stop pretending like u rn’t reading this. I kno u r.
The buses just left, btw.
I throw my phone into my bag again, flicking momentarily back into visibility, before I flicker back again. Like a fuzzy TV signal. The texts stop coming, and I’m slightly saddened by this. I slump down against the wall. When the door creaks open, and the cheerleaders start filing in, I scamper out. Only my bag is visible, but I’m plenty sure they were too preoccupied with their own conversation to notice the bag moving out of the change room.
Surprisingly enough, pretty ultra-blonde Violet Childs isn’t on the cheerleading team. She’s the volleyball captain, and part of the tennis team. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s trying to convince Milo to go play doubles with her. Ick.
When I get to the front foyer of the school and become visible again. One of the niners looks slightly surprised by the fact that I just appeared. I adjust my kilt and push through the doors. It’s a thirteen kilometer walk from the school to my house. I’ll survive.
The air outside is cool. The breeze is even cooler. You can just smell the fresh rain in the late-summer air. September was like that around here. There was always a sixty percent chance of rain. And when the rain stopped, the leaves had all fallen, and it turned into a light snow, which later translated into a heavy snow which later translated into a long melting process in spring.
I lug my bag down the sidewalk, adjusting position on my aching shoulder every once in a while. To make matters even worse, I’m constantly afraid that the wind is going to all the sudden catch my kilt and take it with the breeze. Spandex or not, it was seriously embarrassing.
With the next great gust of wind I drop my bag to catch onto my kilt. Life would’ve been so much easier if I’d decided on my uniform pants instead of the stupid kilt. This was supposed to be a statement to Milo. That idiot … led me on. Made me think it was me he was talking about.
If you must know, last night Milo had been instant messagin me. It went sort of like:
Milo_Man: Hey.
Ellie_Louise_Eloise: What’s up?
Milo_Man: Just thinking about asking the girl I like out.
Ellie_Louise_Eloise: Oh, cool.
Milo_Man: You think she’ll say yes?
Ellie_Louise_Eloise: I have a very strong feeling that she will, yeah.
See? That is totally leading me on. And I was blushing at the computer screen and smiling like a dork the entire time. And now … now I feel like a total idiot. Just let the rain fall. I feel like there’s already a rain cloud trailing around above me like in all those cartoons. I was just about to get going again when I hear: “Hey, Eloise!”
I whirl around. Whatshisface is hurrying towards me, beaming and waving madly. He catches up quickly. “Where
were you?”
“Um … at school?” Good one, Babbler. Of course you were.
“Milo said you weren’t answering his texts. Where were you hiding?”
“Um … at school?” Very nice, very nice; Repeating things now. I see how it is brain. Two can play that game.
Whatshisface chuckles. “Oh man. Well, he said for you to text him when you found your phone.”
“Thanks Whatshisface. I will, thanks.”
“It’s Marcus.”
“Thanks Marcus.”
He grins again. This kid is a grinning machine. “Okay, see ya later Eloise.”
“Bye Whathisface.”
Marcus starts walking down the street. Over his shoulder he calls, “My name is Marcus!”
I pick up my bag again and start trailing along after him. He’s much faster than I am. He’s running. Why is he run – Oh. The rain starts pouring down. It’s like the clouds just opened up and let the rain out in bucketfuls. I’m soaked straight through almost immediately. I can’t even see Marcus through the thick haze of gray raindrops. Lady Luck my butt.
My bag bounces against my butt and my heels, making me stumble every so often as I jog down the street. I’m not even five kilometers from the school and already my knees feel like jelly: shaky and weak. I stop to catch my breath again, knowing what havoc all this rain is going to wreak on my textbooks and binders. I’d rather not think of how long I’m going to be sitting at home drying the crinkly, waved pages.
Maybe mom will do it.
I splash through a massive puddle before I find a bus station just around the corner. I retreat inside, the rain still catching my feet. My feet squish up against the soles and I feel all the water rush out into my knee-highs. I can hear my phone vibrating. I rifle through my wet bag and find the green phone safely tucked inside my science binder. I open it up and press talk.
“Hello?”
“Ellie, where are you? Marcus said he saw you. Why didn’t you text me back?”
“Whatshisface said to text you when I found my phone. I only found it now.”
“Are you walking home?”
“No.”
“Yeah you are; I can hear the rain.”
I want to chuck my phone into the street to be run over by a bus. Why is he so worried? What about Miss Violet, his girlfriend.
“I’m doing just fine, thanks. I’m nearly home.”
“I can get my dad to pick you up, and we can hang.”
As much as I’d like that, you little cutie, I’ll have to pass. “My mom can pick me up. I’m just trying to get a bit of a workout in.”
I hear Milo mumbling in the background. “Yeah, she says she’s walking … No, she won’t tell me. Can you pick her up … ‘Kay, thanks ... yeah, I’ll tell her,” he comes back to the phone. He must’ve had it muffled against his chest. “Dad says he’ll pick you up. Where are you?”
“My mum is already coming.”
“Oh, okay.” He can sense the tone of my wry voice; it almost sounds like I’m telling the truth.
“Okay, see you.” I flip my phone closed and shove it back between the plastic covers of my binders and step back out into the pouring rain.
What seems like a million years later I push open the door. Mom’s head pops around the door-jam and she gapes at me. “What – where is the heck have you been?”
“I missed my bus,” I lie. I throw my bag on the ground, grab my phone, and slump down the hall to my room. Mom doesn’t pry, but goes back to whatever she was doing in the kitchen. As a stay-at-home mom, she always had yummy snacks cooked. After I shower I knick a few oatmeal-raisin cookies from the cupboard and sneak back into my room, shoving the cookies in my mouth and dragging my bag behind me. I plug in the hairdryer and flip it on. I yank my history and science textbooks out of the wet mess that is my bag and start drying the pages. Maybe I can switch these two out for new, smooth textbooks.
Milo texts me.
So much for ur mom picking up, eh?
Just answer me, Ellie. Why r u mad?
R u mad bcuz of Violet?
Finally I pick up my phone and turn off the hair dryer.
No.
Yes u r, he replies. Ur doing it again.
Ur being annoying, I reply. I’m plenty capable of walking home alone.
Milo sends a smiley face emoticon. Bout time u answered. Did Marcus catch up with you?
I roll my eyes. He’s so clueless sometimes. Yeah, he did. He was really smiley though …. A smiling fiend he was.
Why didn’t you text me asap then?
‘Cause I was busy saving the world? I send him an angry face. He’s just provoking me now. How annoying – But adorable, when he does it in real life. Oh brain, shut up.
Doubt it. You got that covered well enough yesterday.
Maybe I decided to go out again.
Lol, Milo texts, sure. Are you going to meet the Supers next Friday?
Whatever. I guess, I say, shutting my phone. Milo knows to stop bugging me. Besides, he’s probably too busy texting Violet. Ick. She’s really pretty though …. I flip the switch back on the hairdryer and continue drying the rough, crinkled pages of my history book.
History. It was odd to think that people like Milo and I had really changed the course of history. Around here there were five of us that I knew for sure – Sand Man (Milo), Lady Luck (otherwise known as myself), Rat Man, Inferno and Tangled. We were all just struggling, confused adolescents who were stuck with the burden of being a stinkin’ super. Those doctors seriously messed up with the small pox vaccination way back when. If they’d done it right maybe I’d never be here – and maybe I’d never have met Milo. And maybe I’d never have to worry about him at all. It was a nice thought, but eventually we’d all just be history, right?
I shut off the power to the hair dryer and decided to don my cape.
