"Don't worry,"I smiled at my mom through gritted teeth, "I'll be fine."

I was not fine.

I turned my back on her so that she did not see the smile fall off my face. Each consecutive step towards the bus resounded with a hard slap of rubber soles against the sidewalk until I was on board. Eyes followed me, all faces turned towards me filled with curiosity and interest. I sat in the first row, as far away as I could get from their inquisitive stares, and did my best to ignore the gossip I could hear circulating the small space.

"Isn't that the new transfer?"

"She's from some private school, I think."

"I heard talk that she's a hero, and Coach Boomer said he's sure she's a strong one!"

As the bus pulled away from the stop, I saw my mom wave to me from the side of the road. I waved weakly back, and faced forward, armed against the gossip with only a pair of headphones. Even with my music on full blast, snippets of conversation still made their way to my ears through the plastic devices.

After a few more stops, and a highly irregular encounter with a "Road Closed" sign, we reached the high school campus. It was the first day of classes, and students milled across the lawn to chat with friends, hand out fliers for clubs, flirt, eat, and whatever else they felt moved to do. I began to exit the bus, and absent-mindedly clapped the driver on the shoulder and offered a small "thank you."

The smile he flashed me was more sympathy than friendliness- he'd heard the gossip, too.

"Good luck, kid," was all he told me.

I needed it.

I filed off the bus, and did my best to maneuver through the din of people. I tried to ignore the reality I was facing as the new "hero" at a school I was totally unfamiliar with. I would try to take everything in stride, one thing at a time, and hopefully it wouldn't be as bad as I was anticipating.

It couldn't be any worse than what I had already been through, I figured, and that gave me a confidence of sorts.

I pushed through the crowd, and tried to ignore the gossip I could hear about my coming. My sharp eyes caught the movement of some guys throwing a football, of cheerleaders practicing routines, of people skating up and down the walk. It was all quickly becoming overwhelming. My ears tingled and turned red from embarrassment as I moved with many eyes on me, and I gripped my messenger bag tighter. I forced myself to hold my head up and to take calm, commanding steps, even when I felt like rushing into the building and away from the crowd.

Phrases uttered by students like, "Born hero" still rung through my ears as I climbed the front steps and entered the building. The ones lining the hallway were no better than the ones outside, only they talked more quietly. I still could hear the majority of their conversations, although I tried not to, and made my way immediately to the office for my schedule.

I was already miserable, and class hadn't even started.

The office administration was nice enough, but even there I caught sly stares in my direction. The counselor came out to greet me, papers in hand.

"Miss Stone!" She greeted me in a chipper voice, "Welcome to Sky High!"

I endured the small talk and as many questions as I could, while people in the immediate vicinity greedily eavesdropped. I was in a hurry to get to my locker and get settled in before class started, and wanted most to be out of that stifling environment.

"Tell me," The counselor probed me with another question, "Why transfer from such a distinguished school?"

I smiled an irritated smile that I hoped said, "None of your business," and took my schedule from her.

"I didn't like the school colors," I replied dryly, and left.

A good part of the day I spent in and out of ambiguous classrooms. Some classes I were already familiar with, having taken a variation of it before or another degree of difficulty. None of the students pestered me, although I could still hear them talking, and a few brave ones approached me in the hallways with fliers for clubs. I took them with a nod of my head, and a wry "Thanks," and tucked them away into my backpack. I would throw them away as soon as I got the chance.

I was at least grateful that no teacher had introduced me to the class (or worse, made me introduce myself), but I anticipated Power Placement with a mix of dread and excitement. If I managed to pull my plan off, I would be free from gossip and speculation- and most importantly, from expectation. Power Placement couldn't come quickly enough.

Finally, my second-to-last class came around and it was show time.

Although I was a sophomore, I was put in the same Power Placement orientation session as the freshmen, the counselor had explained, "as a mere formality." Her eyes had glistened when she said that, as if she knew undoubtedly what the outcome of the test would be. For the rest of the year, I would participate in gym normally with the other students.

I entered the gymnasium, and the smell of plastic bleachers, metal rafters, dust, and sweat filled my nose and mouth. The squeak and scuffling of shoes across hardwood floors recalled to my mind many years spent playing sports in buildings similar to this, not so much competing for the win as playing for the sake of the game itself. Yes, this was somewhere I could get used to.

I was snapped out of my reverie as a funny man in shorts and tube socks mounted a small stage. He seemed to me as if he took himself too seriously, and his booming voice only confirmed my suspicions.

I couldn't pay attention during his introduction, or as the other kids got up on the podium to demonstrate their skills. My gut curled in impossible ways, and anxiety mounted in my throat like a gag. I wasn't sure that I could succeed in my plan, but I'd be damned if I wasn't going to try.

Before I was even ready to take my place on the stage, Coach Boomer called my name.

"Stone!" He shouted, and I raised a hand and stepped forward. "Get up here and show these whiner-babies how it's done."

Murmurs rippled though the crowd and echoed up into the rafters.

"That girl is the transfer?"

"I heard she can shoot bullets from her fingers!"

"Our 'Save the Citizen' team is sure to win championships this year..."

I scoffed under my breath, but didn't have much breath to spare. I felt a bit dizzy as I willed myself to take steady steps up onto the stage and towards Coach Boomer. I gripped a paper in my hand with confidence, with desperate hope, that my plan would work.

"'Stone', huh?" He joked from behind aviator sunglasses, "Is that an allusion to your powers?"

I swallowed and replied, "No, just to my heart."

Coach Boomer grinned at me and laughed.

"A hero with a sense of humor!" He guffawed at my sarcastic response, "I like it! And," He clapped my shoulder and pulled me in close, "Just between you and me, I don't know why they made you go through Power Placement. We all know you're hero material!"

Before I could say anything, he pushed me towards center stage. "So, show us your powers!"

I stood, looking out into the expectant faces. No one talked now. All were staring, intently, waiting for me to reveal my talents. I cleared my throat awkwardly, and approached Coach Boomer again.

"Coach," I said, "I really think you ought to look at my transcript."

I handed him the paper with a shaky, sweaty hand. He didn't notice, but looked at me confusedly, flipping pages.

"You see, I've already been sorted," I offered in a voice that I hoped rang with confidence, "At my previous school. This is my transcript."

The only sound was the shuffling of papers as Coach Boomer greedily searched for the answer to my mysterious claim of already having been sorted. The class waited in expectation, and I snuck a glance at them as their eyes were glued to Boomer and my transcript.

The shuffling stopped. The students waited in tense anticipation. Boomer stared blankly at the page, then up to me and the class.

He said in a small, unbelieving voice, "Sidekick."

By my last class, it seemed that the entire student body teemed with new gossip.

"Did you hear? The transfer is a sidekick!"

"We can kiss that championship good-bye, now..."

"I can't believe she's not a hero!"

"Does anybody even know what her powers are?"

Students and faculty alike were more open and brazen than ever before, pointing while they talked more loudly. I should have been irritated, that I and my abilities were the subject of petty gossip, but I felt pleased at the irony of the situation. People were upset and chagrined, which I felt was highly amusing.

I laughed a bit, out loud, to myself as the final bell rang and everyone rushed into the hallway to greet friends.

How ironic, I thought, as I walked with the masses through the entryway, and onto the lawn, How ironic that I disappointed so many people before I even knew them...

I couldn't keep myself from smiling as I approached my bus stop and waited to board. If only they knew how typical that was of me lately, maybe the others could see the irony in what I had just pulled off.

Suddenly, it hit me- I had pulled it off! My plan worked- the entire school was convinced I was a sidekick. The realization hit me like a flying school bus. I wouldn't be expected to lead anymore. I wouldn't be held to a higher standard, or looked upon as favored and a "golden child." I would be totally normal and conventional (or as close to it as you can get in a superhero high school). But most importantly, I wouldn't have to live up to anybody's expectations. And as everybody knows, if no one expects anything of you, you can't let any one down- and that's the way I wanted it.

I couldn't wipe the grin from my face as I filed back onto the bus, and sat in the front again. I could hear the gossip once more, but I knew it wouldn't last longer than a couple more days. It was bearable, and easier to ignore this ride.

"So," The driver called to me as he closed the doors, and shifted gears, "How was the first day of school?"

I caught his eye in the long mirror occupying the front ceiling panel of the bus, and smiled.

"Liberating," I proclaimed, and sat back to watch the clouds roll by.