Howdy!

So, new story, same deal. I don't own the avatar characters, and they might be OOC. But read on - if you dare.

I'm DJ.

You know the drill. Delaney Jorgman. The kid of the movie star, the late Casey Jorgman. The intuitive girl. The head of VLADJI. The fighter.

I'm the girl standing in the path of the man trying to get a drag queen to a school, trying to stop the entourage like the Tank Man of China. The chick who breaks up a fight between a Muslim and a Christian because one offended the other. The girl who leads the kids out of the room when teachers make out, because I don't want the kids getting any ideas.

But even I have to get some normal in my life. A girl just needs it. And my bit of normal, in this case, was a hurdle even more difficult than a drag queen or a regular conflict – high school.

Yes, it's crazy to think about. A girl like me, who fights off monsters regularly, attending high school? But after my father's death, I had to get along with my life. He would have wanted that. Besides, if I was going to rationalize anywhere, I'd have to start in the schools.

I'd been rather wary of public schools ever since Mom had pulled me out because they weren't doing anything about the bullying I faced. I didn't figure it was going to be any different this time. But now I was well past just walking out when it hit the fan. I couldn't afford to do that anymore. After all, if I don't stop it, who will?

Where do I even start with this?

I think I'll begin the tale of woe on the first day of school, at the point before my family was out the door.

We were all struggling to get ready to go. Dexter already had his bag packed for school but was debating whether to bring his Meccano set with him. (He was ever so fond of it.) Joshua, the five-year-old terror of the family, had hidden Callie's calculator and she was trying to get its location out of him. (I wished her luck with that.) Courtney, the sixteen-almost-seventeen drama queen of the family, had found her sketchbook and was trying to convince Mom to let her bring it along. Unfortunately for her, Mom was on the phone.

Your typical crazy, hectic back-to-school morning.

I found myself losing my patience as I got my books together. It's hard to organize when everything's in chaos around you. I was on the end of my rope when I came across the missing calculator. It was hard to miss the nick Callie had put in the sleeve with Peter's old Swiss Army knife – the indicator it was, indeed, hers.

I held up the calculator for Callie. "Found it."

Callie heard me and brushed a lock of strawberry blond hair out of her face. "Thanks, Delaney," she said quietly. She was a little soft spoken for eleven years, but I'd trusted her with a few secrets over the months since my older brother, Peter, had left for college up in Boston.

I wished he were here. Not just because he was better at getting everyone shaped up in time for school. But I missed being able to tell him things. At the same time, I wasn't sure how to explain what had gone down. He would've known about Dad's death – he was at the funeral, after all (he would have had to be there) – but the aftermath?

I'm not exactly talking about the move, mind you. Even though it had been rather fast, having happened just after we buried Dad. I'm referring to after I settled in.

Not long after I'd arrived… Well, you know the story. I ran into Vinny Lee and Amos, later Sonic, Amy and Tails. Then Imira. Then into a whole bunch of other problems.

It transpired that there was a huge crisis of syncretism that was upsetting humanity, particularly where I once lived and where I lived now. Politicized stuff that was deeply bothering many who just wanted to get on with their lives without being preached at. In other words, most of the things I noticed in Loss of Angels – sorry, Los Angeles – were happening within humanity at large. And the Vortex, a semi-divine being responsible for the creation of the avatars, had placed his creations in Philly to protect humanity there.

What do these have to do with each other? The avatars – invulnerable, superpowered beings spawned from tech and magic (don't ask) – are pretty much unwilling to fight off humans unless they absolutely have to. (It's a matter of honor for them.) If humans can't get along with each other, then that's a problem for the avatars. So, someone else has to step in to help.

I yanked up my books for school and stuffed them in my backpack. I was presently attending Fairview High School, a private school intended to teach patriotic values to its students – which is more than I can say for most public schools these days. Recently it had updated its enrollment to include outside religions – not just the Christians it had always allowed in. I figured that would be interesting to finagle, but I didn't question it. Especially since I had friends in those outside religions whom I needed to stay with (again, don't ask).

"Mom!"

Oh, crud. Courtney was getting vocal right about now. Mom was still on the phone, and it didn't look like she'd be getting off it soon enough to answer her. I'd have to handle this end.

"Courtney," I said, "you'll be in school all day. You need to focus on it. The last thing you need is to be drawing while the teacher's talking."

Courtney turned to face me. "I have an art class. Not sure whether to bring my personal sketchbook or some other one."

I rolled my eyes at her. Last I'd checked, she only had the one and another she'd already filled up. I hadn't heard about her buying another sketchbook. Mom must have let her, as she would have given her quite the talking-to if she hadn't heard about it first. (She doesn't like the way Courtney overspends on art supplies, even though our money cache is bottomless. What did I say about not asking?)

"Why don't you take the school-assigned one?" I replied. Courtney was attending Belmont Secondary School, which was a little stricter than Fairview. And a little less tolerant. I bet most of the stuff in her personal sketchbook would have cranked up a politically correct teacher's board. Isn't it great being the one LA family with strong patriotic values?

Courtney frowned at me.

"She's not wrong, Courtney," Mom said, coming off her call. One headache of having a mom like mine – she can multitask almost as well as Vinny Lee. I wondered how much she'd overheard. "Fairview I know might accept it, but Belmont – better safe than sorry."

She then turned to Dexter. "There aren't any robotics classes, Dexter – there's no need to bring Meccano along."

"Okay, Mom." Dexter's tone was surprisingly neutral for a kid told not to take his favorite toy to class.

"What about Josh and Valerie?" I asked. I recalled that Mom was looking for a job, as her WIC checks didn't exactly cover our stay here, and Mom wasn't anxious to use too much of her husband's money. (You cannot serve God and wealth.) One minor problem with that plan – we'd have to find a sitter for the two youngest kids, who weren't old enough to go to school yet. (Josh was old enough, but Mom was holding him out.)

"I can set them in the day care while I'm away," she said. "It's not a perfect solution, but I'll make it work."

She then brushed a lock of her auburn hair behind her ear. "Are you sure you'll be fine, Delaney? This is a big change for you."

"Yeah, Mom," I replied. "I'll be fine. I'm with my friend, you know."

Mom smiled. Vinny Lee was pretty much the only one of my comrades in VLADJI that she knew about. I hadn't gotten around to telling her about Amos or Imira, or about the avatars, because… well, I'd seen how all that had complicated my friends' families' lives. I didn't want to put any of that on my family, weird and wonderful as they already are.

Mom nodded and smiled. "Good luck."

With that encouragement, I headed out to meet my friends.

I snagged a bus to Orianna Street and Susquehanna Avenue. Kind of on the way to Fairview, and where I was meeting my friends. Assuming they'd found a bus, they'd be just fine.

I scanned around the intersection. They'd be at the corners, wouldn't they? Also, this particular intersection wasn't in the best neighborhood, judging from how run down it looked. If we were going to do this, we had to do it now.

I put my fingers to my lips and whistled. Prrr-eeet!

A few seconds passed before I heard a sharp whistle call – three short blasts and a long one, followed by a pause and then a short-long-short-short pattern. I'd gotten us all familiar with Morse code, having a brother who tapped it on our wall when we were kids. It helped that some of our avatars responded to Morse code signals. This particular one belonged to the friend I'd mentioned to Mom – VL, for Vinny Lee.

Another came in – short-long, A for Amos.

I whistled out my own signal – long-short-short, pause, short-long-long-long. I was thankful I had a moniker that stayed the same with shorthand Morse code. It made it easier to remember, even if it was a little lengthy.

The closer came in a louder, sharper whistle than the others had been – two short blasts. Letter I for Imira.

I waited on the sidewalk as the others approached.

My teammates in VLADJI are perhaps some of the best people I've known. Okay, so in Loss of Angels, I didn't have that many friends (mainly because they were all crazies and I don't hang out with crazies), but these people were definitely not the shallow types of that city. I don't think anyone from SoCal would have stood up to monsters the way these guys do. Regularly. Let alone kick their butts.

Vinny Lee twirled out from the grassy patch on the southwest side. I could tell she'd gone for the girl attire this time. Of course, I always referred to her by female pronouns after she'd revealed it was her natural gender. (And let me tell you, most gender-questioning people would not be so open about that.) Her blue tunic and yellow sweater stuck out enough as it was, but she paired it with yellow leggings, mismatched blue and yellow knee socks, and gold ballet flat shoes. Add on her boyishly short blue hair, yellow and blue striped tote, blue gloves and blue and yellow Ojo de Dreamcatcher (a mix of an Ojo de Dios and a dreamcatcher) necklace, and she was pretty hard to miss, even with her diminutive stature.

"¡Hola!" she hollered with an excited smile on her face. I will say this, that girl doesn't scare easily. She wasn't even fazed by the abandoned buildings surrounding her. Most people call it crazy. I call it Vinny Lee.

The other two VLADJIs approached from the north side of the intersection.

Amos approached from the side of an old mechanic building. The sign on the building read STARTERS – ALTERNATORS, GENERATORS with NEW & REBUILT in black letters. Yeah, maybe two decades ago, it was. I hadn't seen it in business at all. Just a typical city block in Philly. There was also some serious graffiti scrawled all across that I couldn't make sense of – which was just as well, as I did not want to know what it said.

Amos seemed much more alive against the dull building. He sported an outfit of pink and maroon, as usual, with his brown hair neatly parted and tucked behind his ear. How did he do it? I'd have to ask who styled his hair. His hazel eyes glinted with a light that was both thrilled and nervous at the same time. I didn't blame him. This was the first time he'd been to a private high school, having been put through a lot of charter schools growing up.

His pendant – pretty much his main accessory aside from his belt – hung around his neck. The design was pretty simple – a dog-tag chain with a magnetic circular pendant. The pendant itself was maroon, etched with a daleth inside a David's star, which was in magenta. The etching had previously been green, but it had changed to magenta when he discovered his singing talents some days before, and it didn't look like it was going to change again anytime soon.

Imira was the last to emerge, on the other side of the street, just opposite me. She was distinct without trying to be – tall and muscular, and with more red colors in her attire than most people. Her simplistic attire of sweatpants and a t-shirt, paired with her hijab, singled her out further – among us, anyway.

"So," she said as we approached, "guess we're doing it."

I nodded. "Last one to Fairview's a cysnake in drag!"

And we raced off to the school where we were going to continue to learn reason.

So, I'm continuing my verse updates, given that I enjoy this so much. Verse for the update: 1 Peter 5:8. Stay tuned!