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The next few days were pretty quiet, both in everyday life and on the hero front. Freakazoid! dealt with some minor crime and saved some more college kids from their own stupidity. School was closed for our own Spring Break, so I mostly relaxed, got ahead on school work, and did some work on finishing that computer I'd been putting together before I found my beloved phone, my preciousss … sorry. Anyway, it wouldn't be anywhere near as good as my phone, but it's never a bad idea to have a backup system, especially if I want to test something without a risk of messing up my phone. Sure, I could run a virtual machine on my phone for testing, but sometimes … aaand, you don't want to know about this.

I should really finish getting things ready, anyway. Emma's coming over for our first meeting since Madison was exposed. She and her parents should be here soon and Dad took off the afternoon to be here too. Not that we're going to be hanging out with them, but they'll be nearby in case there are any problems. So, while dad finished getting things ready in the kitchen, I set out coasters, bowls of chips (both plain and ridged, we're pulling out all the stops here), clam dip―what? It's a creamy dip made with sour cream or cream cheese, seasoning, and bits of clam. It's good. I have no idea why you haven't heard of it. Fine, let me look it up. Ok, it used to be really popular in the 50s through the 70s but now it's mostly just a thing in some port cities where clams are, like Brockton Bay. You're really missing out.

And there's the doorbell. Thanks for distracting me; I've been kind of nervous about this meeting. I meant it when I told Dad that I thought I'd be able to look past the Emma of the last two years and see my friend, but that Emma is two years younger and all carefree and excitable. Would I really be able to see her when face to face with the older, more refined and confident version? What if I flashed back to Evil Emma and I cringed or something and set her recovery back by weeks or more?! No, I needed to calm down―think of clam dip, Taylor.

"Taylor! Will you get the door!" yelled Dad from the kitchen.

Right. Time was up. I went to the front door and opened it, and there was Emma flanked by her parents. I took in her stylish clothes, expertly coiffed hair, wide red-rimmed eyes, and deer in the headlights expression as she stared at me. She sniffled.

"T-T-Tay...Bwaaaaaaaaaa!"

And then she burst into tears and stepped forward, throwing her arms around me and burying her face in my shoulder while mumbling apologies. I patted her on the back and told her everything was going to be all right and it wasn't her fault. Yeah, I don't think I have to worry about confusing my friend for Evil Emma.

O

"Mmmm, this is really great clam dip," said Emma as we all sat in the living room chatting. "Are you sure you won't share the recipe?"

"Only if you marry Taylor―it's a family secret."

"Dad!" I cried, cheeks burning as everyone else laughed. At least Emma was laughing instead of blushing too. Having any sort of romantic interest in me would be the last thing she needed on top of the emotional mess she had to deal with already. So far as I knew, she was straight, anyway.

"Sorry, sorry," said Dad, not sounding sorry at all. "So, Emma, have you decided where you'll be continuing school?"

"Yes, we picked Thorndyke Academy. It's a really nice private school―strong academically and it has a big arts program, too. The campus is gorgeous! The main building used to be a mansion and then they built some more modern buildings on the property."

"Wow, that sounds nice," I said, trying not to sound too wistful. Maybe Winslow would be much better now that Madison was gone. Even though it would still be full of gangs. And people were saying it was awful long before she even started there… And no one would ever dream of using the word campus in conjunction with it. Penitentiary, maybe.

"Why don't you give Emma a tour of the house," Dad said in the awkward silence that had fallen on the room. "It's been a while since she's been here."

"Yeah, sure. Come on, Emma," I said as we grabbed a couple of bowls of chips and dip. Waste not, want not and all. "Now, we just left the living room where we entertain guests when we want to put on airs. You should feel honored."

"I do!" exclaimed Emma with a grin. "I mean, the living room and heirloom clam dip! I'm really not sure I deserve such an honor." Her grin faltered.. "I mean… after the past couple of years and all… oh God, Taylor, I'm so―"

I put my hand on her shoulder. "Emma. It wasn't you. There's nothing to forgive." She started to protest, but I cut her off with a hug, then further distracted her by waving my arm to draw attention to the room we were in. "And this is the family room, where we hang out and entertain regular people."

Emma took a deep breath and obligingly looked around the room. "Oh my God! You still have that TV! Do they even make CRT televisions any more?!"

"Nope!" I answered proudly. "That is now a genuine antiquity. But don't worry, we have slightly moved into the future―we reupholstered the couch a year ago. And now, we move on to the kitchen."

"Taylor… you haven't even reached the present. Please tell me there isn't a butter churn in there."

"No, that broke last year. Here we go. As you can see, we actually have modern electric appliances."

"Electric I'll give you; modern is another matter," Emma said as she tried and failed to lift our blender. "Ooh, your toaster looks modern and fancy.

"Yeah, it's actually tinker-tech. I found it in a box I got from an estate sale."

"Tinker-tech?! Oh my God, Taylor!" What does it do?"

I gave Emma a funny look. "It makes toast. It's a toaster."

"No, I mean what does it do that's special?"

"Oh. Nothing. It just makes toast. The only reason we know it's tinker-tech at all is because there's a 'PRT-approved' safety seal on the bottom. And that strip on the side glows blue when it's in use, but that's just an LED to make it look 'cool'."

Emma sighed. "That's so disappointing. Does it at least make good toast?"

"It's fine, I guess. I mean, it's just toast."

Emma shook her head. "I don't know why, but somehow seeing your tinker-tech toaster that only makes ok toast is more depressing than seeing the 'wooden cooking-stick' I expected to find."

"Do you want me to go get the stick from the basement?"

"Can we just sit down and watch TV or something," Emma groaned.

"Sure," I said, leading us back to the living room. "Have a seat on the couch and I'll start turning the crank on the picture box…"

"I give! You win! Just turn on the TV and sit down. Please."

I smirked and grabbed the remote (hey, we're not barbarians) and turned on the TV as I sat down next to Emma. We were both quiet for a minute as I flipped through channels looking for something decent.

"Taylor," said Emma in a quiet voice, "I know I wasn't really in control of myself, but I still feel so horrible about what I did. You didn't deserve any of what we put you through… and I just don't know how you can sit here next to me and be nice like this after …"

I put my hand on hers, stopping her. "You're right, it did take some effort, and I was worried I wouldn't be able to… but when I opened the door today, I realized right away it was you, not the pod person who'd taken your place for the past couple of years. Which was good―I can't stand that bitch."

Emma snorted in surprised laughter then smiled weakly. "Yeah, me either… I still feel bad, though."

"Well then, as punishment for the extent of your part in recent events, we will be watching PBS."

"Taylor, you like PBS,"

"True," I said as I helped myself to a ridged chip with clam dip and changed the channel, "but it's your punishment, not mine."

"Good point. Oh look, they're in the middle of a pledge drive. Whatever were the odds of that?"

"And now, without further interruption," said the man on TV, "we now return to The Magic Flute."

Emma made a small squeak next to me and I turned to see her staring into space, eyes wide and complexion pale.

"Emma, wait―" I started to say before she burst into noisy tears and grabbed me in a crushing bear hug that made the one at school feel like a gentle squeeze. The breath exploded from my lungs, and as I desperately tried to suck in more air, I could only think that, once again, I had somehow ended up being the one punished. And then everything went black.

I pounded at the sides of my locker as I called for help, pausing when the thin bars of light coming through the vents in the locker door vanished as someone walked up.

"Please, Taylor, do you really expect anyone to help a freak like you?" asked Madison before walking away, leaving me alone in silent darkness.

For a couple of minutes, I quietly stood there in the disgusting hell of my locker. Madison was right; no one was going to help me. Everyone thought I was a freak―just because Madison, Emma, and Sophia decided to victimize me. Well, fine! If they wanted a freak, I'd give them one! To hell with all of them―I'm not one of them, I'll never be one of them, and I don't want to be one of them! I'll get out of here without any of them and have a fucking wonderful life, also without any of them!

I squirmed around in the confined space, reaching into my hoodie and carefully extracting my phone from the hidden inner pocket. I powered it on, tapped in my password, and in three seconds, my precious was ready to save her master. I opened the phone app and―shit!―my heel slipped in the disgusting muck at the bottom of my locker and I fumbled with my phone for a second, desperately trying to save it from falling into that mess.

Oh, thank god. Safe. It was safe. And soon I would be too. No harm done aside from a moment of utter panic and the wrongest number ever entered on the screen.

I tapped the delete key and the world exploded into light. Blinded, I felt energy dancing over me and then a sudden pull and I was flying forward. My vision cleared and I found myself flying/falling through the air over a bizarre landscape of circuit boards, computer chips, and cables alive with pulses of energy. Strange stars and planets floated in the dark blue sky. I felt a surge of energy pour into me and―

There was a soft crunching sound to my left. I turned my head to find a floating couch bearing an avidly watching Freakazoid! with a huge bucket of popcorn.

"Don't stop," she said, "this is my favorite part!"

Finally! A chance to get some answers from my alter ego! Taking control of my origin story flashback, I floated closer to her. "No. We need to talk!"

"Aww, but that sounds really boring… We should do something fun―like a Q&A session in the comments, ooh, or a cameo!"

"Comments? Cameo? What the hell are you talking about?! You sound like some kind of wacko!" As her face lit up and she turned to reach behind the couch, I cried, "No! whatever bizarre thing or insane reference you're about to pull out, forget it!"

"Awwww…" pouted Freakazoid! as she turned back around.

"So…" I cautiously asked, "you'll talk to me?"

"All right, Taylor. Ask Me Anything."

I took a deep breath. "Okay… Are you... really part of me or are you a different person?"

"Ooh, great question! Actually," she said, before suddenly wailing in Emma's voice, "it's always because of me she's getting hurt! I'm never coming near her again!"

My eyes abruptly opened to reveal the ceiling over our family room couch. "Emma," I snapped, "the only thing that's hurting anyone right now is your guilt over things you were not responsible for. I am not letting Madison take my best friend away from me! Either tomorrow or the day after, we're going to go out and we will have fun together. Understand?"

Emma pulled her tear-stained face from her mother's shoulder and turned around to stare at me. "Y-yes."

"Good," I said as I sat up and took in Dad and Emma's parents smiling at me. I frowned at what I didn't see, though. "So, is there any clam dip left?"

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