"Wow, Pics," Warren said, leaning against the locker next to hers and eyeing her streaks. "You look a little blue today."
Mary snorted, shaking head. "God, Warren. Did you swallow a dad joke book or something? You've been making bad jokes recently."
He smiled slightly. "You're just irritated that you think they're funny."
She rolled her eyes but did smile. "They're terrible. But, yes, they're funny. Unfortunately."
Warren grinned. "Good. Then I'll win against my dad next visitation day."
Mary raised an eyebrow. "You tell dad jokes to your dad?"
"No, I win our pun-offs with dad jokes. There's a difference."
"How on earth does your mother put up with you two?"
"It helps that she loves us. That can cover a whole lot of bad jokes."
Mary couldn't help but agree. Lord knows it worked with the twins. "You never cease to amaze me, Warren. Who knew there was such a softy under all that bad boy emo look?"
Warren smirked. "And, as I've pointed out before, no one would ever believe you."
Mary laughed and put her hand on the locker to close it but paused when Warren's eyes locked onto the bracelet and compass charm. "You like?" she teased, moving her wrist so the light caught the metal. "It's become one of my favorite jewelry pieces."
Warren smiled and was about to say something but the warning bell rang. "I'll see you at lunch, Pics." He pushed away from the lockers and walked down the hallway. Mary watched until he turned the corner and then closed her locker, heading toward Mad Science.
Mary liked having Computer Lab before lunch. Sometimes, like today, she got to leave early once her assignments were finished. Today had been writing up incident reports for fake fights and conflicts; it was practice for when they became Heroes and had to fill out similar paperwork on what happened during their shifts. It was simple stuff, really, once you got the hang of it. So, here she was, sitting at her usual table, 10 minutes before classes let out and her friends would join her. She'd already unpacked her lunch and had a container of Warren's sweets waiting for him. Suzy had been more than willing to make him a selection his favorites.
Zach, Magenta, and Ethan were the first to arrive. They got their food quickly and sat down around her.
"Kill me now," Magenta said, resting her chin in her hand. "Why do we have to take Hero Law again?"
"Because there are endless laws in place that regulate the duties and responsibilities of Heroes, as well as what they can and cannot be held accountable for; from stolen items to citizen deaths that may occur during the course of their duties."
The three stared at Mary with wide eyes.
"How do you remember all of that?" Magenta asked.
Mary shrugged. "It's kind of important. I mean, if you plan on becoming Heroes, you need to know this stuff."
"Can't I just hire someone to do all that for me?" Zach asked. He perked up and looked to Mary. "Hey, Lamb–"
"No," she said. "You need to know at least the bare minimum."
Zach groaned. "So not cool. It's so boring."
"Downside of being a Hero," Ethan said, picking up his slice of pizza.
"Worse than any villain," Zach said.
"What is?" Will asked, joining them with Layla and Warren following. Warren took the spot next to Mary that was always open to him.
"Paperwork."
Warren sneered at the word. "Agreed." He noticed the container and smiled, sliding it into his backpack. "That's something people don't really think about. Heroes are supposed to save the day; not make sure that the staples on reports are on the right side and every box has been filled out so the insurance can pay out to companies for repairs after a fight."
"Thank god there are lawyers who specialize in Hero Law," Mary said. "Even with four years, I don't think I'd be able to remember everything."
"I don't think I could handle being a lawyer," Will said. "There's so much to remember."
"Then what will you do for your cover?" Layla asked.
"Cover?"
"Your civilian job when you're not doing you Hero work. Everyone does something. Your parents do real estate; are you going to do that, too?"
Will shrugged. "Hadn't really thought about it. I've been kind of worrying just about school and getting used to my powers. Am I supposed to have that figured out now?"
Layla rubbed his arm, calming his panic. "No, you don't have to. But it's something you should give some thought."
"Where do you even start?" Zach asked. "There's like a hundred options."
"The school works with you on a plan," Warren said. The others turned to him. "You start it in Freshman year, where you write down some options. Throughout high school, you visit the councilor and work with him on choosing an option or two. You'll be starting it soon, I think. They usually get you thinking about it around Thanksgiving break." He looked at Mary. "You'll be doing it, too, since this is still your first year."
"What do you have down as your career options?" Will asked.
Warren shifted, shoulders hunching slightly. "My top three are Computer Security, Tattoo Artist, and…Actor."
Mary knew about the actor part but the computer security as surprising. "Do you like working with computers?"
He shrugged. "I'm decent at them. But it's mostly for job security. Heroes have to work odd hours and be able to drop everything at a moment's notice. IT is a weird field, anyway, so I have more room to work with when it comes to cover stories."
Mary stabbed some of her salad. "I think you'd be happier as an actor. Besides, you're pretty. You'll always have work."
The table was quiet as she chewed on food. "Did you just call him pretty?" Magenta asked.
Mary stopped chewing and blushed. "Am I wrong?" she asked after swallowing and reaching for her water.
"I get 'handsome' or 'edgy hot', but 'pretty' is new," Layla said. The others turned to her. "What? I'm not wrong."
"Great," Will said. "My own girlfriend thinks my friend's hot."
Layla leaned against his shoulder, kissing his cheek. "You're still my favorite."
"Ugh. Get a room," Magenta said, tossing a grape at them.
"Have you gotten your play scripts yet?" Mary asked, eager to change the subject. Stupid of her to let her mouth get away from her.
"There's so many lines," Zach said. "I'm super excited, yo, but I'm not sure how I'm going to remember everything."
"I have one or two lines but mostly I just sit in the back and sing," Ethan said. "I think I have some dances to learn?"
"And Warren's got the entire play," Magenta said.
He smirked. "Wait until you see the light directions. You're going to have so much fun." She glared at his sarcasm.
"When do rehearsals start?" Mary asked.
"Tomorrow." Warren frowned slightly as he turned to her. "I won't be able to come over too often. With work and the rehearsals…"
"I understand." Mary rubbed the compass charm under the table. "If you find you have time, though, there's always a spot for you at the table. I'll even help you run lines."
Warren smiled, face relaxing and opening up. "I'd like that."
"So have you finished making my Hero outfit?" French class was by far one of her favorite classes; she and Warren got to catch up and talk while using the excuse of practicing their French. Thank goodness that Monsieur Gérard preferred practical experience instead of just repeating words and remembering translations.
Warren pulled out his notebook and flipped it open, setting it in front of her. She raised an eyebrow. "You gave me a camera and goggles?"
He smirked. "Problem, Pics?"
Mary shoved his shoulder, barely moving him. "I'm not giving you my sketch if that's what you have to trade. Honestly, you even gave me a cape. I don't like capes."
"Most Heroes have capes."
"They're a hazard. What if it catches on something or pulls you into some dangerous machinery?" Mary shook her head. "No capes."
Warren flipped a page to a different design. "Good thing this is the real design."
Mary took in the sketch. A black body suit with blue accents on her forearms, shoulders, and shins trailing up her thighs to her knees. A belt rested around the waist with multiple pockets, paired with boots and black fingerless gloves. There were still goggles, but they looked more technical than the swim wear style on the first sketch. It wasn't flashy but just the right amount of her style.
"I like it." Mary smirked slightly. "Looks kind of like yours."
He smiled. "So it does." Something told her that it was on purpose. Did he want them to match? But didn't partners– she cut that line of thought off. She didn't need to go down that road right now. Not after her slip at lunch. Thankfully, Monsieur Gérard called on Mary to answer a question, testing her French skills. The mini conversation about giving directions in a city gave her enough time to collect herself again.
"Bien, Mademoiselle Lamb," Monsieur Gérard said. "Now, Monsieur Peace–"
The door opened and an older gentleman popped his head in. He had short black hair and wore a sweater vest top, slacks, and loafers. "Excuse me, Mr. Gérard. I don't mean to interrupt but I need Miss Lamb."
"Of course, Mr. Boyle. Mademoiselle Lamb, you are excused for the class. Homework is reading the next chapter."
Mary collected her things. "See you later," she said to Warren before she left the classroom.
The man turned to her as they walked down the hall. "Hello, Miss Lamb. My name is Mr. Boyle. I'm the guidance and career councilor at Sky High. I'm here to help students with any problems or questions they may have." They stepped into a room designed to put students at ease with neutral calming colors. Mr. Boyle gestured to the chair next to a desk while he took the seat opposite. Mary set her bag by her feet. "Now, I called you in today to talk about your career options. Since you're a sophomore but it's your first year, you weren't here for the first step. So let's talk about what you'd like to do for the future. Have you thought of a specialty you'd like to pursue?"
"Specialty, sir?"
"Some Heroes are more suited or prefer to work in different sectors. Some do search and rescue missions, others prefer to do emergency response, and some are best on the front line." Boyle folded his fingers together in front of him. "So, what are you thinking?"
Mary shifted in her seat. "I… haven't really thought about it, sir. I've been focusing more on getting settled and making sure my school work is done."
"Understandable. And you don't need to pick a sector right away. Now, to get an idea of how best to help you, I like to ask a few simple questions. This just gives me a read on who you are. Ready? Why do you want to be a Hero?"
Mary opened her mouth, so ready to answer, but stopped when she realized she didn't have one. Why did she want to be a Hero? She'd just always known she'd be a Hero and that was that. There hadn't always been a reason.
"Okay," Mr. Boyle said, "let's change tracks. What would you like to do for your civilian job? Any particular interest in anything?" He looked at the computer screen next to him. "It says you attended an arts school in France; photography? Would you be interesting in pursuing something in the arts?"
"I loved being a photographer." Mary smiled slightly. "I even enjoyed being a model and helping my friends with the outfit designs. It was fun and I liked expressing myself." She looked at her hands. "I think…I'd like to continue doing things like that. In some way."
Mr. Boyle was quiet for a moment and Mary shifted in her seat again. Was this a bad idea? What was she doing? Was she supposed to be getting something specific out of this meeting? Her nails picked at her cuticles as the silence continued.
"Miss Lamb." She looked up at Mr. Boyle's compassionate smile. "What I'm going to say next is not meant to push you in one direction or another but to let you know about all options available to you." He leaned forward slightly. "Not everyone who enters Sky High continues on to be a Hero. There are other institutions that specialize in support positions for Heroes that they find to be a better fit. I know a few students who decided the Hero track wasn't for them and became the people who design support items for Heroes or work on helping Heroes in their work by providing invaluable information." He smiled softly and slid a green folder towards her.
She picked it up, reading the front. "Maxville Arts Trade School?" She raised an eyebrow. "M.A.T.S.?"
Mr. Boyle chuckled. "An unfortunate name, true, but they're very reputable. They have courses in photography, videography, recording systems, and even ones for designing Hero costumes. It seems to align with what you've done previously. However," he added as the bell for the end of class rang from the hallway, "I want to remind you that this is only another option if the answer to that question I asked before doesn't show itself. And just because you're at a Hero school does not mean you have to become one."
Mary smiled and tucked the folder away. It was nice to have an option. "Thank you, Mr. Boyle."
"You're welcome, Miss Lamb. If you ever need to talk or have questions about anything, feel free to drop by. I'm usually here."
She pulled her bag onto her shoulder and left feeling a little bit lighter. She hadn't known about the other types of schools out there related to Hero work, but it really shouldn't have surprised her. In a world full of superHeroes, there had to be support in place, right? And in some other form than side kicks. She'd look over it tonight when the twins were in bed; this seemed to be a decision she had to make for herself.
It was power training in P.E. today. Mary was already stretching when Warren joined her. "What did the councilor want?"
Mary bent over, pressing her palms as close to the floor as possible and stretching out her legs. "Are you sure you're just a pyro and aren't psychic?"
Warren pulled his arm across his body, frowning in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"We talked about my future as a Hero and what my cover could be."
"What did he say?"
Mary straightened, raising her arms above her head to stretch out her back. "Just giving me options and things to think about."
Warren raised an eyebrow. "Good or bad things?"
Mary paused, lowering her arms as she met his gaze. "I don't know yet."
It wasn't until Thursday that she managed to get time to look at the folder. The twins were full of energy when they got off the bus. Extra curricular activities were starting tomorrow and they couldn't contain their excitement. It took some effort to get them calm enough to do their homework, but she just had to let them run their energy out. By the time she'd managed to wrangle them into bed, read them a bedtime story, and gotten their things ready for tomorrow, she was exhausted. The intensity of power training that day hadn't helped, either. Warren had helped her build her stamina in holding her shields up by going pretty hard on them with his flames. A hot shower would be heavenly right now. But she pulled her bag toward her to start her homework.
The M.A.T.S. folder slid out and she flipped it open. There were a collection of brochures inside advertising different programs and courses. They even provided internships at big companies. Mary skimmed them as she spread them out on the counter. Technology, surveillance, costume creation, and even programs on law and PR; there was a lot of background work for Heroes. Why didn't they cover some of this in class? Did they learn about it when they were juniors and seniors? It would be better to know about these kinds of things earlier in case someone liked doing this more than Hero work.
Her attention returned to the pamphlet on the costume design. There was more to the program beyond just picking the right color scheme and making costumes look good; required classes included studying and picking the right material for different powers, designing materials for better use if they weren't already in existence, creating unique support items for Heroes, and incorporating developing technology into the suits. This was serious course work but, as the school advertised, they were getting students ready to go straight from school into the working field.
The surveillance program seems interesting, too. Body cameras, data retrieval systems, fight analysis, all kinds of information gathering. The full program wasn't something Mary would be interested in, but a few of the classes could be of use to her. She put that next to the costume design pamphlet and place the others into one of the folder sleeves. The other papers were about the campus, the classroom set up, benefits of attending, and a few mentions of scholarships available to those who might need assistance. Why hadn't she come across this sooner? Or was this school meant to be more of a known secret in the Hero community, like how Sky High was? Guess if your parents were alumni, you'd know about it.
Would this be better for her? It was still Hero work but just in a different field. Maybe she should schedule a school visit and see if it was more her style. But what about her friends? She'd just found her friend group; changing schools would put her back to square one and there wasn't a guarantee that that she wouldn't be treated like a villain's kid at M.A.T.S. But would she do better in the long run at M.A.T.S.? With these program and the career placement they offered, she could get a decent job and start earning money. She could still be a Hero through Sky High, but if she wasn't dedicated to the life, what was she doing there? And there was a difference between being a Hero because it's a calling and being one because it's a job. Mary ran her fingers through her hair as she sighed. More adult decisions.
"Mary?"
She looked up, smiling softly at Randy rubbing his eyes in the kitchen doorway. His Commander pajamas were rumpled and he held onto his stuffed salamander.
"Hey. What are you doing up?" He squeezed his toy. "Did you have a nightmare?" He nodded. Mary patted the chair next to her. "Come have a seat. I'll make us some hot chocolate." She set a saucepan on the stove with milk to simmer as Randy climbed up onto the seat. "What did you dream about?"
"I don't remember a lot. There was yelling and sirens and…" He sniffled. "You were there but something was wrong and I was scared."
Mary pulled him into a hug, stroking his hair as he leaned into her. "It's okay. It was just a nightmare. I'm all right and safe."
"But what if you get hurt again like homecoming? When you become a Hero, you'll be in danger all the time."
Mary bit the inside of her cheek. Randy was six; he didn't need to be worrying about his sister coming home or not. "Heroes have to put their lives on the line to protect citizens. It's part of the job…Sometimes it's dangerous."
"Then I don't want you to be a Hero," Randy said, holding on to her tightly.
Mary looked at the papers on the counter. "Randy," she said softly, "what would you think if I did something other than being a Hero? Like making their costumes and working with others to keep Heroes safe?"
"Would you be safe, too?"
"Safer than running into danger."
He nodded. "I think you should do that, then. I don't want you to die."
Mary's arms tightened around him. To hear something so blunt from her little brother was heartbreaking. "I'm not going to die. I'm going to be right here, loving you so much you'll get sick of me."
He sniffled, holding onto her shirt with one hand while using his sleeve to wipe his nose. Mary didn't bother to correct him but did step away long enough to finish making the hot chocolate. She poured it into two mugs and added marshmallows before placing one in front of Randy. He pulled it close and sipped as she took her seat at his side. It took a few moments for him to stop sniffling but his eyes were still red.
"Are you excited for dance class tomorrow?" Mary asked.
Randy nodded. "Taylor said she would be my partner so I wouldn't be alone."
"That's nice of her. She's a good friend."
Randy smiled. "I really like her. She shares her apple slices with me during lunch."
The siblings chatted about Randy's classes and what he was learning. One–on–one time was a bit rare; both twins were usually around so talking to one was talking to the other. But they were different people. Mary enjoyed learning who they were.
Soon enough, Randy was yawning and rubbing his eyes. Mary rinsed their mugs, put them in the sink, and returned the M.A.T.S. info back to her bag. Randy held up his arms, tired eyes growing unfocused. Mary smiled and lifted him up. He tucked his cheek into her shoulder as she headed to the stairs. By the time she reached Randy's room, he was asleep. She tucked him back into bed, brushed some hair away from his face, and kissed his forehead before leaving the room as quietly as possible. Climbing into bed that night, she made a mental note to make an important phone call tomorrow.