Eliza's words – or rather, their implications - are still echoing in Alex's ears long after the door slammed in her mother's face. Long after Kara went to Lena's for an impromptu sleepover, long after Alex almost gave herself a concussion with the garage door, trying to wrestle her surfboard out of the building, and long after Alex gave up reasoning with her mother and ran.
Ran, because she's not enough, not enough, not enough.
So now, Alex is lying on her stomach on the board, letting the waves wash over her numb fingers. This might be California, but in December – especially at night time - it's still pretty damn cold. It's beautiful, though; the gentle glimmer of moonlight sparkling on the water, bathing the whole world in a perfect silver glow.
Alex has always found this beach oddly comforting; she and Jeremiah used to spend their evenings there every Friday, then when Kara (literally) crashed into their lives, she tagged along, bringing a truly disturbing quantity of marshmallows to toast over the bonfire as she told them stories of Krypton. Occasionally, Eliza would come home from work before midnight, and join them, and Kara would fall asleep, head lolling on her new mother's shoulder as their shadows danced on the sand, as they talked into the night.
But Alex? Alex would stiffen. Alex would bite her nails until they couldn't cut her palms when they inevitably curled into fists. Alex would stare at her feet and hope that Eliza wouldn't ask about school, wouldn't ask about a boy, wouldn't ask why there's still that one girl in Kara's class who teases her no matter what Alex does about it, no matter how hard she tries to protect her little sister.
The waves are starting to climb further and further up the sand; if Alex doesn't head back now, she knows she'll be stranded. And besides, hypothermia would just be inconvenient at this point; she has a biology exam tomorrow that she should probably be studying for.
With a sigh, Alex starts to paddle. Smooth, easy strokes cutting a line through the dark waves until she's waist deep in the surf. The iciness of the water sends a shock through Alex's body, and her muscles tense up with cold as she wades through the water. But Alex ignores the shivering, ignores the pain, ignores the aching emptiness in her chest, because why shouldn't she? Why does she deserve more than pain, more than being told she's never enough?
Because she can't protect Kara, can't pass enough college level classes to please Eliza, can't 'find the right boy'.
She can't, can't, can't.
The loud beeping of a car horn pulls Alex abruptly from her thoughts as she crosses the road, leaving a trail of cold water along the cement.
"Hey, Alex! Get in," Lucy shouts, rolling down the window of the driver's seat.
"But I'm all wet," Alex protests, gesturing to her dripping wetsuit.
"Get in the damn car, Danvers."
Alex mutters a "fine" under her breath as she shoves the surfboard in the backseat and sits on the unused towel in her hands, trying to suppress the shivering.
Lucy eyes her suspiciously, absent-mindedly fiddling with the heating controls as the engine growls into life.
"Wanna tell me why you were surfing at ten pm… in February? What's wrong?"
Alex sighs, fixing her stare on the green blur of trees through the window.
"What makes you think something's wrong?"
"Little Danvers isn't the only one with a crinkle." She pokes the gap between Alex's eyebrows affectionately.
"Eliza," she mutters after a while, still refusing to meet Lucy's concerned gaze.
"Right. You okay?"
"Sure. And speaking of which," Alex lifts an eyebrow at her friend, "where were you going?"
"Home. I was… I was with Vasquez."
Alex chuckles lightly.
"You finally told them about your giant crush? I was getting sick of listening to you fawn over their biceps every gym lesson."
Lucy narrows her eyes.
"Shut up, Danvers. I don't have a crush. Actually, they were telling me about a new kid."
"New kid? Who?"
"Maggie Sawyer. Starting tomorrow."
"How do you even know that?"
"That'd be telling. She's from Nebraska."
"Huh. Why move here of all places?"
"That's something I don't know," Lucy tells her with a shrug.
They pull up outside the house, and Alex groans when Eliza's light turns on. She's waiting for her. Of course she is. Alex takes a couple of deep breaths before stepping out into the cold.
"Good luck in there, Danvers," Lucy tells her, honesty weighing on her tone.
"Sure. Thanks for the ride."
"Anytime."
Alex nods her thanks and grabs her board, shoving it behind a bush to be thought about later.
Eliza is waiting for her when she opens the door.
"Alexandra. I was worried about you."
Alex flinches at the sound of her full name. After all these years, all she associates it with is being yelled at, with Jeremiah trying to calm her down on the roof, with Kara's sad eyes watching as she bruises her knuckles on her heavy bag late at night.
"I need to shower." The sentence is short, monotonous, and Eliza takes in the pained, exhausted look in Alex's eyes and nods once, leaving her alone in the hallway.
Lucy's car doesn't start again until she sees Alex's bedroom light flicker on.
Alex wakes long before the shrill ringing of her alarm. She runs further than usual, pushing her body to its limits and ignoring the stabbing pain of lactic acid in her muscles. At the other side of town, there's a silver Volvo she's never seen before parked outside one of the apartment blocks. Alex wonders briefly whether the new girl lives there.
Thankfully, Eliza is already at work by the time Kara bursts into the house, babbling happily about her sleepover, and how nice Lena Luthor is, how pretty her hair is, how smart she is, how good at biology, and 'you'd love her, Alex!'. Kara has always been one to get very excited about new people, new additions to their rag-tag little family, and it's all Alex can do to chuckle at the Kryptonian's enthusiasm.
The bleariness of sleep deprivation doesn't wear off until long after her shower, and Alex dresses in a haze, the mental fog clouding her thoughts skewing her perception of time – by the time she can bring herself to step out of the hot water, it's already seven thirty. She pulls on an old flannel over a white t-shirt, faded blue jeans and her favourite belt. Kara rolls her eyes pointedly at her from the bathroom, a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth as she watches her sister cram textbooks into her bag.
Alex ruffles her hair with a sleepy grin when Kara comes downstairs, handing her little sister a plate stacked high with blueberry pancakes.
"Oh! You made my favourite!" Kara squeals, knocking a chair over in her hurry to cram them into her mouth.
"Wait…" the fourteen-year-old hesitates, swallowing as she watches Alex sip her coffee. "Why did you make pancakes? Do you know what day it is?"
"I know, Earth Birthday's tomorrow. Can't I treat my little sister?"
"I guess," Kara agrees with a shrug.
Her hand moves inhumanly fast to defend her breakfast as Alex reaches for a bite of pancake.
"Hey! Don't touch the food!"
"I made them," Alex pretends to scowl, hiding her grin with her mug.
"I will melt your face," Kara threatens, her eyes glinting with mischief.
"Stupid powers," Alex mutters as she pours herself a bowl of cereal.
"New girl. Three o'clock," a voice whispers in Alex's ear, startling her.
"Dammit, Vasquez," Alex complains, slamming her microbiology textbook shut.
Her eyes follow their gesture, and sure enough, a short girl with dark hair is standing by a locker, arm poised to open its door. Alex can only see the back of her head, and it takes a moment for her to realise that the boy towering over her, the boy who's been asking Alex out every other month since middle school, the boy who's known for being an arrogant, egotistical rich kid, is talking to her.
Maxwell Lord.
And for some reason, the scene makes Alex's skin crawl.
"Hey!" Alex is striding towards them before she can think, her legs carrying her forward without her permission, "what the hell do you think you're doing?"
Max looks up with a sneer twisting his features.
"What's it to you, nerd?" The word isn't really an insult anymore, but more of a nickname used primarily for the oldest Danvers girl.
Alex stares him down until he looks away, a trick she's learnt after years of defending Kara.
"Leave her be," she tells him, her voice cold, eyes blazing.
He shrugs, but leaves anyway, swinging his rucksack over one shoulder and sauntering down the corridor in a way that makes Alex's fists clench involuntarily.
Maggie turns around for the first time, and Alex's breath hitches in her throat. There's something about her. Maybe it's her gorgeous eyes, raised just enough to meet Alex's gaze, maybe it's the perfect fullness of her lips that make Alex's own tingle in a way that sends adrenaline coursing through her blood. Alex doesn't know why, but she can't look away.
"Thanks for that," Maggie tells her, bringing Alex back to reality.
"I… it's nothing. He's a jerk," Alex stutters, still lost in Maggie's warm eyes, lost in the confidence in Maggie's easy smile.
"I'm Maggie, by the way. Maggie Sawyer."
"Alex Danvers."
"Well, thank you… bit uncomfortable when guys hit on you in front of everyone, huh?"
"I just ignore it," Alex replies without thinking. Maggie's grin widens as Alex's cheeks flush.
"Oh really?" Maggie asks, raising her eyebrows in genuine surprise. She jerks her thumb back in Max's direction with a light chuckle. "Not really my type, anyway."
"Me too."
The bell interrupts Maggie before she can reply.
"What do you have next?" Alex asks, leaning on the lockers next to Maggie, entranced by the way she bites her lip to hide her smile.
"Biology. You?"
"Same. In 113?"
"Yeah. Want to walk me there, Danvers?" Maggie asks with a smirk that leaves Alex breathless.
"Sure," she says, blushing furiously.
Alex gestures for Maggie to follow her up the stairs, her mind still racing.
"Did that just… what?" Lucy splutters, grounded in the same spot she's been watching Alex from for the last five minutes.
"Nice. Alex has game," Vasquez replies, laughing at Lucy's stunned expression.
"I never thought she might be… Wow." Lucy shakes her head slowly with a grin spreading across her face. She eyes Vasquez's sober expression for a moment.
"Maybe don't say anything to her. I don't think she even knows yet," they tell her softly.
"You're right."
Maggie ends up in the free seat next to Alex. Right at the front, of course: Alex Danvers has a reputation to uphold here. The lesson, of course, is on enzymes, and Alex sighs. Not because she doesn't love biology – of course she does, she's been looking at microscopes since she could walk – and certainly not because she finds enzymes boring.
No. Alex loves biology. But enzymes? Enzymes are too damn easy.
So, halfway through the lesson, Alex ends up doodling in the margins of her notebook, the inky lines taking the shape of a ribosome, neatly labelled, and Maggie almost laughs when it becomes colour coded. Within five minutes, it's surrounded by a little border of dendrites. Maggie swallows the urge to comment.
Alex can tell Maggie's watching her, of course she can, but she doesn't look up, doesn't meet her gaze, doesn't think about how her heart is pounding, how there's something about Maggie's eyes that makes her want to fall into them and be perfectly happy never to return.
Doesn't think, because she can't. Because she wants bury this, whatever it is. Because Alex? Alex wants these feelings to stop, stop, stop.
Eventually, the bell rings and Alex curses under her breath as she half falls over her stool in her haste to get away, to run, to hide.
"Alright there?" Maggie suppresses a chuckle.
"Huh? Yeah, sure."
"Good to meet you, Danvers," Maggie tells her with an easy grin.
"You too," Alex replies, returning her smile and ignoring Lucy's stare boring into her back.
"Oh, and for what it's worth, nerd is a compliment."
Maggie strolls casually out of the door like she's been there a year. The confidence in the way she pulls on her leather jacket grabbing Alex's attention and not releasing it until Maggie's long gone and Vasquez is thumping her on the shoulder with a whoop that would make James jealous.
"I have to go," she tells Lucy, her breathing a little too fast, eyes a little too wide. Lucy's grin fades almost immediately, but Alex doesn't stay long enough for her to say something, because she's out of the building and she's running.
Running, because this isn't real. Because she's supposed to be perfect, supposed to have a regular life, supposed to be normal – normal, but exceptional. Running, because she must be wrong, wrong, wrong.
Her phone buzzes. Again. Again. Again. Alex knows it's Lucy. Or Kara. Or hell, Eliza. But she switches it off, because she needs to think, or not to think. Either way, she needs to get away.
So she does.