The one about getting glasses
The bumpy yellow stripe dividing her from the drop to the subway rails felt nice and squishy beneath her feet. Amy rocked forward on her toes, then back on her heels. Forward on her toes. Back on her heels. It was so warm underground, but in a hot and sticky station-full-of-people-with-pointy-elbows way, not a cozy-underneath-the-blankets way. She drew her hair up in a loose ponytail for a moment, then let it flutter back around her shoulders. Aimless chatter trickled through the air. Someone nearby, somewhere, was eating chips way too noisily from a crinkly bag. Fritos? With all the clingy, wet scents of the subway, it was hard to tell for sure.
She sighed. Tiny frost crystals circled into the air, evaporating instantly. The afternoon couldn't creep by any more slowly. It was just one of those sticky days. She and Tyler had spent all morning sneaking around the fountain by the museum, taking turns dunking their heads and keeping their eyes peeled for security guards who might spoil their fun (His blue-black hair was still soaked pure black to prove it). They'd even come away with several handfuls of coins each, which they'd smuggled into Tyler's backpack between mischievous giggles.
Now, here in the tunnels, the precious sunlight was gone. It wasn't chilly, but it wasn't warm. Crossing her arms, Amy kicked the yellow stripe with the toe of her too-small flip-flop and said, "I wish we had some snacks."
"Stay here," Tyler said, not even looking up from his poetry book. That new English teacher who taught 1st and 3rd periods, Mrs. Shanning, had loaned it to him for the weekend. Amy glanced down, but even when she squinted, she couldn't quite make out the words on the page. She just knew he was almost finished with the whole thing. Tyler licked his forefinger and flipped to the next poem. "It's supposed to pull up at any moment, and getting separated in a place this crowded will be a nightmare."
"There were vending machines just back that way. Soda. Chocolate." Amy tilted her head. She let her arms drop. "It would just take a second if I zipped over and bought it."
Still reading, Tyler slipped his hand in hers and locked her firmly in place. "It's an hour ride there, and if I have to stand around crammed between a bunch of tall, sweaty people the whole time, I'm at least going to suffer alongside you." His fingers tightened in hers and cringed away at the same time. "Also, do your hands ever warm up?"
Amy shook her head. "Ice powers."
The beam of the subway's headlight lit the left-hand tunnel. The tracks rumbled. Tyler shook his head too, and finally closed the book with a snap. "Right. I'm going to have to start wearing gloves. Come on, step back. We're supposed to be behind the yellow line, not on top of it."
The subway roared past them, its brakes screeching on metal. Amy squinted, lifting one hand to shield her eyes. Loops of hair frisked around her face. She spat out the threads and shoved the rest behind her shoulder. The subway rattled to a halt. They'd misjudged where the doors would be. Amy moved to the right, at the same time Tyler moved to the left. Their fingers loosened. Realizing this at the same time, they switched tactics. Tyler surrendered, and let her pull him upstream against the squirming crowd.
Inside the subway car, Amy couldn't help but snort. Sure, math had never been her strongest subject, but even she knew this didn't make any sense. How was it possible the car could still be so crowded when so many passengers had just gotten out? All the seats were taken, of course, and most of the poles by the doors. Every second that passed just allowed more people to elbow their way in. At this rate, she and Tyler would end up crammed in the middle, between a very heavy man with a half-eaten sandwich, and a sneering woman who only wore black and decorative spikes.
Amy tightened her grip on Tyler's hand. She pushed her way to the front of the car, where an unused fabric loop still flapped from its overhead pole. She snagged it with two fingers. It slid towards her when she gave a slight tug.
"Whoa," Tyler said from behind, his voice blurring in the noise and stuffiness of the car. His hand dropped away. Amy twisted back. Tyler stared up at her, small and square in his sleeveless striped shirt. An elbow bumped against his ear. He hugged his poetry book to his chest with one arm. The other had moved behind his neck. Amy arched one eyebrow, wordlessly asking why he'd let go. A crinkle appeared along his forehead. Lifting his thumb, Tyler brushed his hair out of his eyes. "I always forget how tall you are. I mean, we're just in 9th grade."
Her eyes flicked back to the scratchy cloth loop in her hand. It didn't take much effort to reach it. Her arm almost made a perfect L. Tyler followed her gaze. The elbow from before bopped the back of his head again, and so did an enormous leather purse when the lady behind him turned around to apologize. The subway car doors shuddered shut. He hesitated, then lifted his hand.
"I guess I'll just…"
He stepped closer. His fingers closed around her arm, right at the crook of her elbow. Amy jumped, just a little bit. Somehow, even though they'd been friends for five years and counting, it always caught her by surprise to remember Tyler was so warm. Just, automatically, without even trying. He conducted heat like a cookie sheet.
"That works," she said, bracing her other hand against her waist. The subway puttered away from the station. Amy adjusted her footing, stretching out her toes. They stood in silence among their fellow sardines. Tyler hitched his poetry book beneath his arm.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, tilting back his head.
Amy blinked. "What?"
"About probably getting glasses."
"Oh." Shrug, with a scuffing shoe and wandering eyes. She added a third finger to her hold on the loop. "Yeah. They'll be weird, but it's okay. I'll get used to them one day." After all, what else was there to say? Her vision wasn't good, and it was bound to get worse from here on out. Wearing glasses would help her see better, whether she liked it or not.
Tyler's eyes flitted to the lady's large purse again. He shifted slightly closer to Amy. "If you don't like how they feel, you could get contacts instead."
Amy grimaced. "I think they'd freeze in my eyes."
"Well…" He tilted his head. "Hey, it might not be so bad. This is a special super eye doctor. Maybe he'll find out you have super vision."
"Maybe."
"When does your dad get out of jail? Tuesday?"
"Thursday."
Tyler's eyes crossed. His fingers drummed along his book. Amy guessed he was running through their to-do list for the day, and indeed, the first words to leave his mouth were, "Shoe shopping after glasses, or license renewal?"
"Um…" Amy frowned. Oh, geez. He was asking this now? She hadn't visited the superhuman specialty stores since a quick trip with her father two years ago. She remembered the general layout of the shoe store, but beyond that, her mental map blurred. "I don't really care. What's closest?"
"The registration center is four blocks from the eye doctor, and the shoe store is two in the opposite direction," he counted on his fingers. "But it's uphill. The gym just reopened last week and it's on the way to the center, but we can't get in until you get your license renewed. There's also that frozen yogurt place between the cook-in-front and the flower shop, so that's your call."
Amy dropped her elbow so it balanced on his head. "Do you still do things for fun, perhaps? Or do you just memorize all the city maps?"
Tyler stared up at her, eyebrows peaked. "I don't even know anymore."
Just then, the lady with the enormous purse stepped back and swung her arm at the same time. Her purse caught Tyler below the ear. He stumbled forward, grabbing Amy's arm until his nails pinched skin. It didn't hurt, but it did leave red marks like little crescent moons.
"I'm so sorry," gushed the woman, spinning to face him. Her hands flew to her mouth. "Again. Oh, honey, I'm so very sorry."
"It's fine," Tyler said, rubbing the place where he'd been hit. Amy stared at the bulging purse. She'd heard the smack. What did that woman keep in there? Dictionaries?
Purse Lady pursed her lips. She clasped her hands by her waist. "You know, I really don't mean to interrupt, but I heard you mention license renewals. You both look too young to be driving, so is there any chance you two are supers?"
Amy and Tyler stiffened together. A hasty glance. An uncertain nod. Facing the woman, Tyler flicked his finger back and forth between the two of them. "She is. I'm not." He didn't delve any further. Didn't even give their names.
"Really?" The woman's dark eyes shifted to Amy, then swept from her windblown cotton candy hair to her undersized flip-flops and back again. Her licorice smile twisted higher. "Up and coming hero, or villain?"
Amy's stomach plummeted, then lifted into her chest. Her fingers tightened into the loop above her head. Tyler's clenched against her arm. Somehow, despite the sweat beading on her neck and the cotton in her throat, she managed to choke out, "Just a plain, everyday model citizen."
The woman didn't say anything else. She didn't turn away, either. Amy focused her attention on the ceiling, and still the woman would not turn away. Tyler leaned his head against Amy's side, watching her watch them.
Ten silent minutes probably passed like this, although it burned more like fifteen. Finally, as the subway began to slow at the next stop, the woman turned away and fluffed her hair. Amy bent her mouth to Tyler's ear. "She knows."
"Knows what?"
"That I'm Zephyr's daughter. She's judging me. Why else would she say that? 'Hero or villain?'"
Tyler hesitated. "She was just trying to be nice."
"Oh, now that's funny, because I think she was trying to be a big-"
"You know," the lady said, awfully loudly, "it's rude to gossip in a public space."
Amy glared at the back of her head. The back of the lady's head seemed to glare at her, too. Amy was just about to turn the other way for good when she noticed the tiny movement of Tyler's hand. It happened so fast and so subtly, lost among the business of their crowded car. One moment, his hand was near his face, casually shoving his book beneath his chin. The next, it was in the lady's purse. Amy blinked, too bewildered to ask him what he was doing.
Not that she really had to. Maybe it was heightened awareness from her villainous upbringing, maybe he just wasn't as good a pickpocket as he thought he was, but there was no denying the wallet in his hand when he pulled his arm back. Three flicks of his hand, and he'd pinched a wad of green bills and slipped the wallet into her purse again. Tyler held his book against his chest as before, quiet and casual for the entire remainder of the ride. When they left the subway, Amy didn't ask.
They found the optometrist they were looking for without any trouble. Googly eyes had been glued all over the door. The waiting room had uncomfortable red chairs and stacks of magazines about the greatest heists pulled by supervillains this year across the country, but no other people. Amy wasn't sure whether she felt disappointed to be alone, or relieved. A radio behind the front desk played songs that might have been jazz, which was somehow amusing in the middle of the day. Good. Too much quiet would have gotten on her nerves.
Her attention wandered to the literal hundreds of glasses frames lining the shelves in the neighboring room. Some were black, others brown. Many were thick, and many thin. Some resembled goggles, and others shades. One in particular appeared more like a futuristic visor than something you would actually wear every day. The highest number of lenses she counted on a pair was twelve.
Tyler sat in the farthest chair, popped open his poetry book, and kicked one leg up on his knee. Leaving him to read, Amy checked in at the desk, then skimmed magazines until she was summoned to the dark rooms at the very back of the clinic. Staying focused required every ounce of effort. The vision tests were long, with puffs of air squirted into each eye, and cold masks that had to rest against her face while she stared at a blurt patch on the wall and answered "1 or 2?" in a never-ending cycle. And then the two hours of exhaustive tests to uncover whether she possessed any forms of night vision, telescopic vision, heat vision, x-ray vision, laser vision, electromagnetic vision, or maybe the ability to shoot ice beams from her eyes…
But the man who ran the exam was nice enough. Although he dealt with supers everyday and probably knew all of them between Boston and Atlanta, he kept his conversation focused on her alone. How was she enjoying this heat wave? What high school was she attending? Did she play any sports? Volleyball? He had a niece who'd tried out for her team, but hadn't made it on. Zephyr's name never came up once, and for that, Amy was quietly grateful.
"20/60," the doctor reported when the tests were over, pushing the mask machine away. Amy rubbed her eyes, and he added, "No doubt about it. You're nearsighted, Amy."
"After sitting through all those tests," she grunted, "I'd better be."
He chuckled. "Head out there and pick the frames you like. We'll have your glasses ready for pick-up next week."
Her stomach clenched at the thought. So, this was Amy Wenling now. A girl doomed to wear glasses for the rest of her life.
Tyler raised his head when Amy came out from the back, rubbing her arm. "No secret super vision?" he guessed.
"Nope. Just regular old near-sight from my mother's side."
He nodded and returned to reading. Amy's eyes wandered along the nearest displays. There sure were a lot of frames she could choose from, and making choices from large selections had never really been her thing. Uh… She picked up a cute black pair with thick circles around the lenses, then checked the price and shriveled inside. Okay, maybe not.
Still, she kept them in her hand as she prowled the room, comparing shapes and sizes. Far too many of them were made for three or four eyes instead of two. Some had been designed specifically for unusual head shapes, with fabric straps instead of arms to hold them in place. One pair had actual triangles for the lenses. She let those ones slide.
Circles or squares? Standing in front of the provided mirror, Amy switched between the two options in her hands, over and over and over. Black circles. Tortoiseshell squares. Hmm. The circles were nice and big. They emphasized the pale blue-green of her eyes without blowing their size out of proportion, and didn't dig any sharp corners into her nose.
She swapped them out again, and heaved out a louder sigh than she'd meant to. The squares were more reasonably priced, but the circles fit so much better…
The clock on the wall ticked out every silent second. Amy rotated her wrist back and forth and trying to remember which restaurants near her apartment served half-price meals for Superhero Sunday. She could eat with the Eiffels on Saturdays, and if she rationed her lunches at school every week for the next month to double as her dinner, then maybe she could afford to splurge a little extra…
"Are those the ones you've narrowed down to?"
Amy glanced over her shoulder. Tyler still sat on his bench, one hand resting on his cheek, watching her reflection. She held both frames up so he could see.
"The circles are nice and fit well on my peepers, but while the squares are so small, they're also much cheaper."
His expression didn't change. "You picked the circles up first, and you've been carrying them around ever since. Get the circle ones."
Amy winced. Sure, duh, that was easy for him to say. She'd been brought up to save every ounce of spare change she had for a rainy day. If Tyler were the one who needed glasses, he could have grabbed whatever on the shelf caught his interest, and his mom would have paid for it all up front, no questions asked.
"Well, yeah, they're definitely top-tier, but they're also three times as much as every pair here." And to prove she spoke the truth, she waved her arm behind her.
"I've got you covered," Tyler said, returning his attention to his poems. What? Oh. Amy lowered the glasses and watched the top of his head in silence. After a long moment of this, he added, "People who are rude to you get to buy you nice things. They're your glasses and you're going to be wearing them for years, so get the ones you like the most. Just let me handle the money, please. It's really not a big deal."