It isn't easy, being the daughter of super-soldier Steve Rogers – better known as the legend Captain America. Not at all.
First of all, it is never fun to always be "daughter of" and nothing more. You quickly learn to live inside a shadow. Your last name will always be far more important than your first, even though that's the one identifying you.
Second of all, it is weird. I mean, he's older than many (if not most) grandfathers, yet on bad days he might look barely older than 30. And… let's just say that as I got older, and the girls around me got older as well, those girls started to notice how "young" he was.
Third, I wasn't super. At least, not nearly as super. Having only half of his genes meant I was maybe a bit faster and stronger than most people without having to work out 24/7, but being healthy, never getting a cold or beating all high school boys in sprint doesn't make you "cool" or even likable.

They did say I look like him, with my blue eyes and blond hair. Mine are both darker, less… pure. As if my appearance was a confirmation I wasn't as good as him - proof of being in a constant state of disappointment.
As a little girl, you quickly learn the other kids only want to play with you because they want to see your house and the stuff in it. Everyone always seems to look right through you. I can tell from personal experience it is pretty traumatic when other pre-schoolers get mad at you because no one is allowed to come home with you… Let me say: you learn to SHIELD yourself from other people… Sorry, that was bad.
But yeah…
Admittedly, there are some advantages to being spawn of the Steve Rogers; you never get bad grades on history tests and essays. Oh, you also have lots of non-related, vengeful aunts and uncles. With vengeful I actually mean the Avengers. They are cool, though dad tries to keep me away from that world.

Aunt Nat is amazing, and she's actually my best friend. She taught me everything I need to know about being a girl, and I think dad still owes her for not having to deal with any of my "woman inconveniences".
Then there's Sam. He's one of the nicest guys I know and probably the most normal one, too - even though he regularly soars through the sky with metal wings strapped to his back. He's a good support in a world that is totally abnormal, despite your father's attempts to make sure you don't get caught in his own, strange reality. Sam understands how it feels to live in between those two worlds – the one where they worry about their grades, crushes, jobs and promotions, and the one where you're in a constant state of vigilance, knowing no one is who they say they are. He's the most stable part of my life; a sturdy pillar to hold me up.
One might think this connection and support would mean I'd be happy to see him when he picked me up after school. In reality it didn't, because it meant dad was on another mission and hadn't had time to say as much as "goodbye".

'If it isn't the messenger,' I grunted, pulling the car door open with a mean swing. Had I had my father's strength, it would've been dangling in my hand, torn loose from its hinges.
'Hello to you too,' Sam greeted me, leaning undisturbed upon the sleek car. It was a dark blue model, matching the navy blue jacket the driver was wearing today. It fluttered a little in the heavy wind, which also rustled through my ponytail.
I slumped down in the passenger seat and shut the door - not too carefully - all the while I kept staring straight ahead. 'How's the captain?' I sneered.
Sighing, Sam got in, closing the door behind him. 'He didn't know he'd have to go, you know.' That I knew, very well. Still, I looked out the window with a constant frown on my face. The keys jingled when Sam turned them to start the engine. The car hummed a pleasant, low rumble, and barely made a sound as Sam steered it towards the tranquillity of our home.
It would take us while until we would reach the niceness of familiarity. For now, I just watched blankly as teenagers laughed and complained while stepping into their cars, all happy to go back to their ordinary home and ordinary parents. All of them were quickly out of view, replaced by the many other aspects of mundane life. 'You are such a little beam of sunlight, aren't you?'
I was aware of Sam's eyes glancing back and forth between the road and me, those brown eyes always full of worry. If I were to look at him, my angry mask would break, so I kept staring ahead. 'Humph…'
'That's all I get? I come here, especially for you, and you don't even smile. And I do like your smile so much, Jay…' I could no longer resist; I gave him a sly look and met his kind and teasing expression. I smirked, laced with a genuine – though slightly unwilling – smile. 'That's my girl,' Sam smiled back. 'How was school?'
Ugh, school; I rolled my eyes. 'The usual. You know, I don't see the point in testing how many presidents we can memorise, there aren't that many.' I breathed on the window and drew little stars, which vanished within seconds.
'Not everyone has super memory,' Sam remarked.
I grimaced at him. 'I'm nothing compared to dad. Besides, what is the use of knowing all American presidents?'
'Says the daughter of America's greatest patriot…' Sam smiled at the road ahead.
'Exactly.' I sunk a little deeper down into the seat, so I could only barely catch glimpses of the colours rushing past the car's windows. 'I can know.'
I watched as we drove into a quieter lane guarded by high trees, until we arrived at an electronic fence, which opened automatically when the cameras recognised our faces.
We lived far away from the city, somewhere surrounded and guarded by tall trees. Here, you never heard the constant noise of traffic, or the never-ending murmur of voices. Only here, I knew true silence, were it not for the evermoving branches with their rustling leaves.
'How was your day?' I informed, hauling my backpack over one shoulder and closing the car door behind me, still a bit of annoyance packed in the gesture. Together, we made our way to the big, white house, oozing America. Made of wood, with a big porch, two stories and even an attic, perfectly maintained; exactly as you'd expect from Captain America's home. Soft leaves crackled underneath our feet, giving a lovely, autumny atmosphere to this already idyllic picture.
'Also the usual,' Sam held the door for me. 'Want waffles?'
I threw my bag on the kitchen table. 'Is that even a question?'
'What's the magic word?'
'Please,' I grinned. 'Or else…'

I watched Sam take everything he needed, prepare the batter and begin making the waffles. He did it with the ease of a man who'd done it a hundred times before – which was about right, to be honest. I loved Sam's cooking.
'Nat's with him?' I asked, walking towards the fridge where I took a bottle of glacier water (it had become my favourite after a joke of Natasha and Tony had stuck around).
'Yeah, though they didn't need me, for some reason.' Yet again I was amazed at how little Sam seemed to care about that.
'They need you to babysit,' I chuckled, nudging him as I walked by. 'Even though I don't need it, I appreciate it.'
Sam glanced back at me. 'I'm happy to hear that.'

'Mmm,' I hummed a while later as I poured maple syrup all over my waffles, 'you're such a good mommy bird.'
'I will take that as a compliment,' Sam said the moment my phone buzzed.

Dear Jaylin,

I'm sorry I had to leave again, so soon after my last mission.
Sam promised me he'd take care of you.
I trust you will behave.

Love,
Dad

When I read "I trust you will behave," I grimaced at the screen. How old did he think I was? It was frustrating; while other people often thought I was quite a bit older than I actually was, my dad still seemed to deem me no more than a foolish little girl. It was especially frustrating because I had always felt different, maybe even older, than most children surrounding me. It had often crossed my mind this might be another result of my father's genes – how they even interfered with how I grew up, refusing to grant me as much as a normal childhood.
'Sometimes I feel like I should date someone dad really dislikes,' I mused abruptly. I imagined myself coming home with the biggest jerk I could find and shivered.
Sam's cheeks rose as he took a sip from his large mug filled with strongly smelling coffee. 'I would be worried, if I didn't know you have more pride than your dad.'
'Sadly, yes.'

Hey, Natasha…
Forgot something…?

I waited. Dad usually send his messages late, but Natasha didn't; she knew exactly how I felt about their sudden disappearances and the radio silences that usually followed. It's how I got to hate surprises, as surprise never held a pleasant meaning for me, only that my father had to save the world again.

I'm really sorry
I was really busy
I'll make it up when we're back…?

Even these texted words were hasty. Still, they seemed genuine enough.

Sure
Keep him safe, will you?

I was aware It wasn't much of a message, but it was all she would need; Nat knew me too well to think I'd stay mad at her.

'So,' Sam said, when I had finished eating, and I had put down my phone, 'are you going?'
'Going where?'
Sam raised his eyebrows. 'The gala. I saw the flyers.'
Flyers? Some brightly coloured papers seemed to hang before me. Curly font spelled out the date of a gala (or a masked ball) for all students. Apparently, it was going to be quite fancy. Now I thought about it, I recalled many people at school excitedly discussing the event. 'Oh, that… No, I don't think so.'
'Well, it's more than a month away,' Sam said confidently, like he was certain I would change my mind. This self-assuredness annoyed me.
'I'm really not going,' I stressed. 'Definitely not.'
My guardian shrugged. 'It might be good for you to go out. Be around people your own age.'
It was time to deploy my most efficient method to avoid topics I dislike: walking away.
'Then let me go out,' I smirked. 'And as I am the same age as myself, I'll be around people my own age, too.' Before Sam could react, I sprinted to my room.

After changing into my workout clothes – shorts and a tank top –, I put in earbuds and let music fill my ears. Running never failed to calm me down. I didn't get tired easily, so sometimes I ran for hours on end without realising it. I was happy for the immense woods in which I could jog, without people staring at me or annoying me. So, today, like I had done many times before, I let myself absorb the sound of the music while my mind went blank. My heart beat steadily. My blood flowed rapidly. My feet stomped regularly against the soft dirt.
Just running, only running.