The Justice League hideout was in Timmy and Noah's basement. It was primarily made from three old kitchen chairs, one of which was missing a seat, covered by a paint-smeared drop cloth stolen from their dad's seldom-used workbench and secured with duct tape. Now that it was summer, most days after Ma left for work, Noah was waiting next to his bed when he woke up, begging with his eyes until Timmy woke up enough to follow him into the basement, to resume their epic battle with the forces of evil.

Today, Noah was wearing his red rain poncho, which doubled as Superman's cape. Underneath Timmy could see the outline of the heavy black flashlight Noah had discovered under the sink in the kitchen. He carried it around almost all the time. Timmy couldn't remember exactly when he'd started doing it, but he seldom saw Noah without it anymore.

"Uncle Samuel's here," he whispered. "For my birthday."

Timmy inspected his digital watch. Uncle Samuel had given it to him for his own last birthday in March. "Ma won't be home for six hours and forty-three minutes. We'd better go right to the hideout."

Noah nodded without smiling. Timmy reached out and took his hand. His fingers gripped the flashlight firmly in the other. Together, they faced the stairs.

"Let's go fast, Meemee," Noah whispered fiercely. He went first, descending the first set of steps to the landing.

Timmy always felt a little angry at Noah when he rushed into things. He wasn't even in kindergarten yet and already he was more brave than Timmy was. It was like he didn't realize things could hurt him. People could hurt him.

They rounded the corner and headed for the door to the basement. He could hear Uncle Samuel and Dad talking loudly in the other room, and baby Sarah crying. Without a sound, Timmy eased the door open. They were halfway down the stairs before Noah gasped, "Wait—" and tore back upstairs again, his rain poncho flapping behind him.

"Noah," Timmy protested, but Noah was back in seconds, bearing a crumpled paper sack and grinning.

"Uncle Samuel brought cookies," he said, holding the sack aloft in triumph. "I heard him telling Dad about them."

Timmy was sure they would get in trouble for taking all of the cookies into the basement, especially before breakfast, but depending on what kind of cookies they were, it might be worth it. They crawled into the hideout and pulled the flap down. Noah already had the flashlight turned on and was rummaging in the cookie bag.

"They have frosting," he exclaimed.

They knew Uncle Samuel wouldn't bother coming over unless there was a good reason. Neither of them knew exactly why their dad was so mad at Uncle Samuel all the time, because Uncle Samuel was the nicest, gentlest person they knew, and that included Mrs. Tripp, Timmy's favorite teacher. They each took a cookie and munched for a while, listening to the muffled noises upstairs.

"Ma's not gonna be back until forever," said Noah.

"No, she'll be back in six hours and thirty-one minutes," said Timmy, pointing to his digital watch.

"We should save her a cookie. There's one for dad, one for Ma, one more for me and one more for you. That's six."

They froze when they heard the basement door open and feet coming down. Timmy frantically motioned for Noah to shut the flashlight off, but before he could, they heard Uncle Samuel call, "Timothy?"

"We're in the super secret hideout," Noah called back.

They left the cookie bag inside and crawled out so Uncle Samuel would see where they were. He smiled at the fort.

"Super," he agreed. "And secret. Does anybody else know about this place?"

"Not the bad guys," Noah said. "They can't get inside."

Samuel crouched down and put a hand on Noah's shoulder. "I don't think I can stay," he said apologetically. "Would you tell your Ma I said I was sorry?"

"Dad's having a bad day," said Timmy.

Samuel grimaced. "Yeah, seems like he's been having a lot of those since he lost his job?"

Timmy didn't answer. There wasn't much to say. He didn't like having his dad home all day in the summer, but now that Ma went to school herself and had a job being a nurse, that was how it was.

"Sarah's asleep. I changed her. I wish I could do more. Can you tell your Ma I took the bag of dirty diapers out to the dumpster? And there's groceries in the fridge."

"Thank you," he said, because his Ma had told him to say that when somebody gave you something.

"And the cookies are on the table upstairs."

"We got them already," Noah whispered. "They're in the hideout."

"That's okay," Samuel whispered back. "They're your birthday cookies."

When Samuel hugged him, Timothy stayed very still and didn't pull away. He liked Uncle Samuel because he always brought them things on their birthdays and he didn't get angry or hit anybody, ever. Noah clung to his uncle for a long moment. They went back into the hideout and listened to Samuel's footfalls on the stairs.

"You're still here?" they heard their dad say. "I thought I told you to go home. Get away from my kids. I'm not having you fuck them up with your faggot ideas."

"I'm going," Samuel said wearily.

They waited in silence, but there were no other noises, no yelling or things falling. The front door opened, then closed.

"You think we should go upstairs?" Noah asked. "Maybe Ma's home now."

"Not for another six hours and twenty-five minutes."

"Maybe she'll come home early today? To make my cake?"

Timmy shrugged. Noah sighed.

"Can I have my other cookie now?"

"After breakfast."

Noah looked at the ceiling of their fort, not like he was trying to see through it, but like he wasn't sure it was trustworthy. "Meemee, what's a faggot?"

"I think it's a bad guy," said Timmy dubiously.

"No way. Uncle Samuel isn't a bad guy."

Timmy wasn't going to argue about that, because it was clearly the truth, so he just shrugged. "Maybe it's like cooties. Something you can catch."

"Do you think I should wish not to catch it? For my birthday?"

"I think you're not supposed to tell what you wish for. Just keep it secret in your head, and don't tell anybody, and then it'll come true."

Noah nodded obediently. "I won't tell."

Timmy watched as Noah closed his eyes very tightly, his lips moving a little as he wished. Then he opened them again, smiling.

"It's kind of like a super secret, right? Because it'll come true if I don't tell."

"Only once a year," said Timmy. "Sometimes you can get what you want, and sometimes it takes a little longer."

Noah shouldered his flashlight and aimed it at the stairs, settling into a protective stance. "Until then," he said, "I'm gonna wait right here."