Helga G Pataki: Hillwood's New Superhero

by KlutzyMaiden123

As if my life hadn't already been difficult. I already had to watch the love of my life, Arnold, make goo-goo eyes at little Miss Perfect, Lila Sawyer, while completely ignoring me. Now, I have to juggle school, keeping my feelings for him secret and battling evil dressed in a skimpy bathing suit, all the while hidiing my lifestyle as a superhero from my nosey classmates.

31. We're Such Beautiful Monsters

I'M SO SORRY THIS ONE TOOK SO LONG. I actually had a tonne of inspiration hit me when writing the next chapter and its changed so much that I've had to completely re-write the plans for Chapter 32-35. My followers on tumblr are aware of this and have been recieving the occassional snippet, but yeah, that's been why this one took so much longer! Just re-drafting.

---

Thank goodness for Sundays.

That was all that I could think as we raced across the city. Thank goodness for Sundays and even better, thank criminy that we decided to throw this shindig on a Saturday. I had gotten a glance at the time before we had left—it was already nearing midnight. Despite not going to many sleepovers, I knew that normally midnight wasn't the most unusual time for girls to stay up til. But we weren't normal girls. There had been so much training and fighting these past few days—not even mentioning school and homework—that it wasn't uncommon to find us passing out before the clock had even hit nine.

And yet, here we were—leaping across buildings and ready to charge into yet another fight.

We came to a stop in an alleyway.

"Ow, Raven, you're on my foot!"

"Get your foot out from under my foot then, dumbass."

And twisting our torsos around the corner, we scanned the area, heads stacked on top of one another.

I drew in a gasp.

"College students," Lark muttered.

I shot her a look. Not the part that I was gasping about.

Lights flanked out from store windows to merge together in the middle of the street. The colours found the Mutants—there were a group of them tonight (of course there were). They were set on terrorising a group of—as Lark had put it—college students. But they were stumbling, their movements were sluggish, and I realised that Rhonda hadn't been the only one drinking tonight.

"Drunk college students," so said the devil.

"Shit," Lark cursed.

I threw Raven a look. "Like you should be talking."

Her expression twisted as she turned to me, opening her mouth to say something.

"How many do you see?" Lark asked before the debate could start.

Raven made a face at her interruption then settled for sticking her tongue out at me.

I rolled my eyes.

"Six—so far," Phoebe answered, ignoring us. "Three to the south, near Wendy's."

"Ah, crap," Raven groaned as Lark sighed. "We're not getting back til morning, are we?"

"It is morning," I snarked.

Raven stopped to scowl while Lark rolled her eyes.

"Seems like it," Phoebe murmured like I hadn't spoken. Her eyes pressed into the sight as her hand moved to her knives.

Huffing, I stepped out from the corner.

"Well, let's not waste anymore time here then." I told them.

Lark made a face. "Wait, hold on a—"

I had no idea what she said after that. Not because she stopped talking but because I was already bolting forward. The wires had snapped into place and wrenched me so hard that the wind became a blade to my skin. I blinked against the tears as my heart shot into my throat. Shapes zipped across my vision and I was thankful—not for the first time—for my reflexes. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have been able to tell apart those shapes, but familiar sensations diving down my spine let me know when the time was right. I heaved my knee out in time to smash into a Mutant's jaw.

The force was deafening—

CRACK!

—and sent the Mutant flying.

It whammed into the wall with a massive thud before falling into a heap across the ground.

I grimaced. The hit had my knee throbbing, but I pretended that the pain didn't exist. Landed on my feet like I was a cat—

"Shit!"

—and quickly caught the man that the Mutant had been attacking.

He was a dark–skinned man in a loose–fitting shirt that had a stain, and long, braided hair. He wasn't heavy—not much was when I was in this form—but it surprised me, and I stumbled beneath his weight.

"Crap," I huffed to myself when I realised that he had passed out. Just my luck. Thankfully, he wasn't wounded, just in shock. I looked up to his friends who were watching from a few feet away. "Um, here—"

I shoved him into the arms of the closest one—a redheaded male wearing a Hawaiian shirt. He stumbled, surprised, then looked from his friend to me.

"Thanks," he stammered.

The girl behind him stepped forward. "One of them has laser eyes—"

"Look out!" her friend pointed over my shoulder.

The hairs on my neck stood straight and I spun around.

My sight lurched to the side, but I held up a forearm, and as the forcefield shot out, a powerful beam snapped forward. It clashed, almost sending me to the ground. The collusion was loud and sent stars rippling across my vision. The air thickened, melting until it became a hot paste that somehow made chills race down my spine. Noises filled the space and pushed until my ears hurt. Sparks poured across the ground. Hair sloshed around my ears. Burning stung my nose as the beam sunk deeper into the barrier. It wasn't breaking down, but the blue arcs were burning red from beneath the light. I gritted my teeth. I could feel my feet sliding against the ground, and tightened my fists like it was going to help.

I rose my eyes and between the lights, saw the Mutant.

It stood imposingly with its arms by its sides, neck muscles twitching from the lasers shooting from its gaze. Mutants were gathering around to watch.

I swallowed.

Then, something dark and green smashed into Lasers. The shape was too fast for me to see, but the weight hurled the Mutant into the wall. The piercing beams disappeared and I dropped my hands as the forcefield dissipated. The weight that had been crushing my lungs disappeared, and as the air sunk deep into my chest, I bent over my knees to inhale.

Fuck, those forcefields could be a pain.

There was a whoosh! from my side that sent hair travelling across my face. I scraped it back and looked up to find Lark stalking towards me.

"I thought I told you to wait," she scowled.

I shrugged. "I didn't hear anything."

Lark scoffed and shook her head. I was sure that she was going to lecture me, but then her mouth quirked into a smile.

I grinned and straightened.

Shapes moved around us and when we looked, the Mutants were creeping closer. Lark and I stiffened, immediately closing the distance so our shoulders were touching. But the Mutants were looking past us and had pinned their gazes on the people behind us.

Raven and Phoebe appeared by our sides.

And I looked over my shoulder to the college kids.

There were four of them—five counting the passed out guy.

"Are you parked somewhere close?" I asked them.

The brunette nodded her head. "Just down the block."

I pressed my lips into a line then looked to Lark. "You good to handle everything here?"

Lark nodded, not looking away from the Mutants.

"We'll be fine—go."

I nodded then turned to the group.

"C'mon," I motioned with my head. "Lead the way."

The team was moving into position as the Mutants pressed forward. The college kids sent nervous glances to the monsters but looking at my expression, began hobbling down the street. They went in the opposite direction of the Mutants—thankfully—so when the creatures launched forward, the girls were able to fight back without a collusion. But as we ran, I noticed glass shards shining from the road.

I rolled my eyes. There was the alcohol.

We turned the corner.

The air strained from the silence as no one had the gall to say anything. It made something roll into my throat and press against my chest like a stampede. I was about to ask how much further when a Mutant leapt into their path. The group immediately drew back with terrified screams, but I leapt over them.

Kicking off from the wall, I twisted my body into a backflip. Sensations swam down my spine as I planted my feet into the Mutant's shoulders. Balanced expertly, I spun around my knife then drove it into its head.

My stomach twisted into knots when the skin broke beneath the blade. I pressed my teeth together and rolled, manoeuvring myself from its shoulders and spinning across the ground. I landed in a crouch, braid swinging like a rope, and shot my wire into the Mutant. It pierced its torso and I leapt onto my feet, swinging around on my heels. The Mutant was sent flying, skittering through the air until its body was torn apart from the explosion.

The wires snapped into my wrists.

There was shuffling from my right.

I swung around and slashed out my arm. The knife flew from my fingers and hurtled into the shadows where the Mutant had been trying to sneak up on me. There was a cracking noise as the knife went through its forehead. I didn't hesitate and ran forward, slamming my boot into its chest.

The force slammed the Mutant backwards into an alleyway.

And then, the explosion came in thick waves that spilled out from the alleyway. It twisted around me, hot and thick. Slipped deep into my pores until my hair hung dampened from the sides of my face. I coughed a few times then called the knife back into my hand.

When I held it, I spun around to the group.

"What're you doing?!" I exclaimed when I realised that they hadn't taken a step from where I had left them. Well, not in the way that I had hoped. They had shifted their passed–out friend, heaving his body so his arms were slung across the girls' shoulders and his feet were dragging across the floor. One of the friends—the shaggy–haired blonde—had whipped out his phone to record everything. But he registered my voice and his eyes bounced to mine in surprise. "I was buying you time—come on!"

They hurried at my gesture and moved in the direction that we had been heading in. Lights shuffled across us and pushed shadows against the bricks. Chills sunk deep down my spine, as my heart carved a socket into my chest.

Eventually, we made it to a bright white car.

"This yours?" I asked then felt like an idiot. Yes, it was their car, dummy, they literally had stopped outside of it.

"Yeah," the redheaded man answered, not picking up on my stupidity. He rushed for his keys in his pocket. "I, uh, thanks for that."

"It's my job," I shrugged, and he tapped the button on his keys which unlocked the doors. "Are you good to drive?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I haven't had anything."

Despite what he said, I scanned his face and stance. I knew the signs when someone had been drinking even a little. But his stance was stable and his eyes were steady, not wavering from my face for a second.

So I moved my attention to his friends. They had become a tangle of whispers and hisses as they tucked themselves into the car. One of the girls squeaked when their unconscious friends' face fell into her crotch and hissed at her friends to move him. The red–headed guy turned to me, rolling his eyes with a small smile. I surprised myself when I smiled back.

Then, a shape jumped out from the shadows.

I whipped my face in its direction.

It was another Mutant. A white figure without any eyes and long, sharp fingers.

"Go," I said, whirling around. "I'll get it out of your way."

The man nodded and hopped into his car.

The engine roared to life and I swung out my wires. They shot across the street, but the Mutant bolted before they could nail their target.

I blinked, having not expected that.

I glanced around, hearing the tyres screeching against the gravel. It pushed a burning smell into my nostrils as the car floored down the street and disappeared. I tried telling the shapes apart as the shadows merged together when something moved behind me.

I swung around.

The Mutant stood a few feet away.

The bands around my wrists tingled as lights spun from my hands. It spread into a glimmering wall that heaved until it had smashed into the Mutant. The creature was knocked backwards into the wall as the forcefield disappeared in a soft whirl. The Mutant landed on its feet and glanced up in time to see me charging.

I swept my foot beneath its ankles, but the creature jumped.

I hissed, swinging for its head, but the Mutant ducked to the side. I swiped a few times but each blow, the Mutant managed to avoid. I finally became fed up and, spinning on my heel, I swiped out my foot. But instead of knocking my ankle into its face, the Mutant swung to the side and then vanished, dashing into the darkness.

I spun back on the balls of my feet and whipped my head around, looking for it, when a weight hooked around my waist.

The weight crashed into my back and hurled over my shoulders. Something swung around my neck—choking me. I coughed, stumbling. The world turned black as I wrapped my hands around the Mutant's legs. Dug my heels into the ground. There was a buzzing in my ears. Lights spiralled as a vibration slithered around my ankles. Rocking my weight forward, I heaved the Mutant from my back.

I heard rather than saw its landing. The momentum had flung me forward and as my hands spiralled, choppy lights were splashing across the ground from my ankles. I pressed the balls of my feet into the ground to stop myself from hitting the floor. Wrapped my hands around my knees and watched as the lights around my feet faded.

Sucking in a breath, I lifted my eyes.

The creature had landed in a roll before dashing away and becoming a blur. I blinked, releasing a small hiss, before looking around. But something slammed into me, knocked me against the wall. Hands wrapped around my neck. Swung me around until my skull was sent into the wall. The air became hot on my face. My pulse blasted in my ears. Heat poured between my ribs. There was a dryness scratching my throat as my head began to swim. I grunted, pushing past the fog that was filling my brain, and clapped my hands around the Mutant's wrists. Power rushed through me. I kicked off from the ground, swinging my legs up to wrap around its neck. My knees pressed into the sides of its face. Its snarl filled my ears. Sweat soaked my face, I clenched my teeth. I tightened my abdomen, heaving my weight and swinging until the creature had crashed into the ground.

Blood was roaring in my ears as I rotated, ending up on its hips. There were flashes from my fists as a rich light poured across the ground. Forcefields were flaring from my hands as I slammed them into the Mutant's face. It didn't have eyes so I didn't have a target. But I could feel the skin mashing beneath my knuckles. I kept my teeth together and kept hitting until I decided that it was worn enough.

The forcefields cleared and I held a hand up, feeling my knife closing in.

But the Mutant flew forward until it had smashed its forehead into mine.

Burning assaulted my vision, flaring until everything became buried beneath tears.

I held up my nose. "Ah—shit!"

Something knocked into my face and pushed me until I was on my back. Concrete snapped into my shoulders as the burning in my nose turned red–hot.

Blinking against the darkness, I looked up to find the Mutant lifting its foot to smash into my face. But before it could drop, the creature spun around to knock the shape that had been hurtling from over its shoulder.

I blinked, realising that it was a wire.

Then, Raven appeared, lunging for the Mutant. It swooped beneath her knives, spinning and then zooming away. I sucked in a breath as Raven landed beside me. Her curls rustled from the movement as her eyes hunted for the creature. She bared her teeth and her eyes glowed against her mask.

But then her gaze landed on mine and she held out a hand.

"You wanna get a pizza after this?"

But it had all happened so fast that my brain was still struggling to catch up. I didn't take her hand right away. Instead, I scrunched my face at her even though it caused more pain.

Finally, I said, "At 12 in the morning?"

"Why not?"

I sighed. "Fine, but after—"

Raven suddenly spun into a crouch. The Mutant was a bolt that lunged for her. Her expression never broke as she moved, swiping her knives against its knees and torso. Her eyes then flashed, searching for something else that she seemed to find when her brows bobbed. I was surprised when she yanked on my wrist, pulling me to my feet and to her side. She didn't glance at me as she shot out a wire. I didn't see where it landed before we were yanked forward. The night flashed in cold shadows that was a jolt to my nose and when we landed, we were standing on a nearby roof.

Lights rushed past my shoulders and I spun around to the explosion spraying across the street. Clouds and dust billowed and pushed against the pavement to singe the air. I could feel Raven moving beside me. But she didn't say anything. It became quiet as the air cleared, the sound dulling into a whistling as a breeze combed the city.

"So, pepperoni?" Raven asked, turning to me. Hair had slung across her neck as she raised her eyebrows at me.

I made a noise.

"Hawaiian. With pineapple," I added with a fierce point. I then dragged my fist across my nose to wipe away the blood. I winced at the flaring pain and began moving towards the roof's edge.

"Oh, God, you're one of those freaks?"

"Shut up."

We leapt from the roof and landed in an alleyway. The air settled beneath my cheeks as I sucked in another breath. The coolness jolted me and I could feel the pounding in my chest settling.

We scanned the area to make sure that the last Mutant had been put down, before moving back in the direction that we had come from.

I expected Raven to break the silence by saying something stupid like she always did.

But she didn't.

She let the silence hang and didn't show any signs of breaking it.

So I decided to do it.

"You know we don't look at you like that, right?"

Her eyes briefly went to mine before going back to scanning the area. "Hmm?"

Here goes nothing.

"We don't . . . look at you and see how you can benefit us," I admitted. She stopped, eyes going back to mine, and I stopped with her. "Honestly, I look at you and more often than not, I think about how annoying you are . . . and loud. And nosey."

Raven snorted her laughter, not looking the least bit offended.

"But you're also one of the most loyal people that I know," I continued. "You've told me how I'm Blue Jay to you, but you're Raven to me. You're my hero. You talk and it makes people happy. You're always getting them to laugh, even when it's dark and we don't know what to do. Tonight, for example. I haven't laughed like that in a long time . . . I envy you for that . . . the way that you can make anyone laugh—"

"You make people laugh."

"Not like you though," I shook my face. "I envy you for your ability to just . . . make people normal again. Make them feel like they're ordinary, like they're not in danger. It doesn't matter where they've come from or what they're going through, you give them relief. And I know that we fight all the time, but honestly I . . ."

"Kinda like it?"

"Yeah."

Raven smiled.

"Me too," she admitted. She surprised me when she wrapped a hand around mine. I surprised myself when I clung onto her fingers. Her thumb traced circles on the back of my hand.

And I found myself wanting to keep going.

"I, um, I used to believe in the invisible string theory. You ever heard of it?" I looked up to find her shaking her head. "It's this idea that the universe is held together by invisible threads. Everything is stitched together. Everyone has their own thread and it connects them to someone they're destined to love. An invisible and unbreakable string that's meant to transcend time and space. Every step you take brings you closer to your true love."

"And you believe that?"

As the flush warmed my chest, instincts pounded and told me to lie and dodge the question. I had already revealed so much tonight, so much about him. This would make me sound even more pathetic.

I forced a shrug. "It made me feel less alone."

Her eyes went across my face. "And you believed that Arnold was at the end of yours?"

"Stupid, right?"

I waited for the laughter. The teasing and the mockery. The 'You're so delusional, Helga Pataki. Delusional, pathetic and weak. He's never going to like you, let alone love you, and you should just give it up.' Because I knew it. I knew that she would be right. I wanted to tell myself that I was strong, but I wasn't. I had never been. I had fallen for him when I was a child and years later, I was still trying to get up.

So, I waited for it.

But the laughter never came.

Instead, a grin crossed her lips and she shrugged.

"I think we've all been there," she said and examined me. "Do you still believe it's him?"

"I . . ." I released a sigh, deciding to push the truth from my mouth. "I think I'm still searching for it—figuring everything out."

She didn't speak for a while.

Her gaze was sliding across my features and hooking onto random spots. It made my mind run like crazy as the silence tied my stomach in knots. I lowered my face. I didn't know what she was thinking; not just regarding what I just told her but what I had shared throughout the night. The shrines, the poems, the stalking—I had made sure to toss that stuff away. Built my walls up because I didn't like what love turned me into. Dreams filled me like sins and made things spin out of control. The lines became blurry and easy to cross, and soon, I was pouring all that I had into him—the good, bad and the ugly.

And I had gotten what I deserved.

Salt burned my gaze.

The last time I had confessed like that, they had left. They had left me and my dreams had been shattered. I had spent so long collecting the pieces, sewing them into what I hoped could make sense. And I pushed a distance between us. The years had taught me to cradle those fantasies, but never unleash them. I made my bedsheets into shackles as I still dreamed of crashing into him. I kept my heart stashed within a box while secretly hoping that he would break the locks to pull it out. I wanted him to reach out and untangle me from my misery. But it was better if he didn't. I liked the feeling, but I didn't like what love did to me. So I pretended that it didn't do anything at all.

And yet here I was, displaying them—my dreams. Open arms and holding them out for everyone to see, for everyone to walk away from.

Then, Raven moved her hand from mine and placed her palm on the back of my neck.

I looked up to find her smiling.

"Well, hey, until you figure out what it is—you have us," she said, grin becoming wider. "We can be your invisible string . . . s."

I stared at her and was unsure of what to say. The words that had wanted to unleash themselves had now gone. Crumbled into dust. I didn't know what to do without them. Or with Raven's words. I wouldn't have said this before tonight. Wouldn't have even entertained the thought. I didn't bring people peace. I brought them more battles. Flattened their hopes in my hands. Rolled them between my palms until they were bleeding between my fingers. I knew this. I wasn't the type to put out fires, I was the type to start them. I would never be a hero, only a villain.

I realised this when, one day, I had looked into the mirror to find a monster staring back. You look too much like your father. His snarls, his frowns, his anger. I wanted to fight it, but it was a future that was already unfurling. Shadows were moving and I was suspended on strings. He infected me with a poison that there was no cure for. You couldn't fight fate; you couldn't change a prophecy. His movements would become my own—they already had, at one point. And so, that beautiful string that I had treasured and imagined connected me to Arnold, I had let go. I had taken the matches and set it alight. I couldn't save myself, but I could at least save others. I had looked one more time into my reflection then set out to become lost like a memory. To fade like the seasons, melting into the shadows where I would become cold and freeze over time.

It was better like this, I would tell myself as I cried. It hurt, but it kept everyone else safe.

I had been Blue Jay for a long time, but I hadn't been a hero. It wasn't Mutants I was fighting, but the instincts pressed against my chest. Battling, mutilating myself so I wouldn't look anything like him. And I wanted to be strong—keep being strong—but even soldiers dipped their heads in shame. It was a battle that only I could fight, but it was a battle that I was losing. Pulling me under until I crumbled into pieces. I wanted to fight, but my heart had become too heavy. It sat like a burden in my chest and dragged me further and further until I hit the bottom. That was where I could finally rest, I had promised myself. When my head was against the seabed.

But then, lightning had cracked and Nel found me. Her presence made something stir in the air. I wasn't alone. Something had surged forward. Colours from different worlds; blue, green, red and purple—swirling and swooping until they had tucked themselves into a warm woven braid. An invisible string. I imagined it like a lasso, passing between us and keeping us together. Whispering comfort until brewing shades were pushed back into my mind.

I couldn't bring people peace.

But they had brought me peace.

And I realised that not only was I not alone, but I hadn't been in a while.

The thought made the rest of my defences crumble and I launched forward until my body had hit hers. I could hear her sharp intake as surprise made her body rigid. But I didn't care, didn't pull away as I wrapped my arms around her torso. I was thankful that it was so late that no one would be out (although I suspected that even if someone were to watch, that wouldn't have stopped me). And then, her hands wrapped around my shoulders.

And I felt safe.

---

We found Lark and Phoebe where we had left them.

The streets were empty and a breeze lifted dust into the air. It left the girls with nothing to fight so in the meantime, they were talking.

We had taken a few steps before realising that they hadn't yet noticed us. The pain had mostly dulled across my face, so as long as I didn't touch my nose, I could push the discomfort down far enough that it was easy to ignore.

But still, I wasn't eager to move my face around.

But Raven lifted her hands, smirking, and looked ready to announce our arrival. But then we noticed that though the girls were facing each other and words were coming from their mouths, they didn't seem to be pleasant words. They weren't even communicating; Phoebe's mouth wasn't moving. Lark was talking—angrily. I couldn't hear what it was that she was saying but from how she was pointing at Phoebe, it looked nasty.

I paused at the sight and exchanged a glance with Raven.

She made a face before we both made our way to the girls.

They glanced up when they heard our approach then stepped away from each other. That made my chest stop as my heart lodged into my throat.

"Everything alright?" I slowly asked them.

"Yes," they both answered.

I frowned.

"You sure?" Raven leaned forward and raised an eyebrow.

"Yep," Lark said. Fine."

I was surprised by the flatness in her voice and even more surprised at the hardness in her gaze. I hadn't seen that look from Lila. She normally had an expression so warm that it was like it was etched from gold as her lips turned into a smile. She had eyes that reminded you of photographs; a gaze that had been marred from the weight hanging over her shoulders. But they were kind, never cruel. I looked at her and expected to find that warmth, but her eyes almost seemed frigid.

It made my heart roll to my wrists as I glanced at Phoebe.

She had already ducked her gaze away from mine. I was surprised by how much her expression resembled her untransformed form. When she wanted to press herself into the walls to become a shadow. She was so powerful, capable of many things when she was like this, but it was like none of that existed. No longer was she a Guardian. Now she was a teenager who still needed defending.

It brought the fire back to my chest. The instincts that walked down my back until I wanted to toss myself between the girls. I almost did, until I looked back to Lark. Her lips had curled to the side as she moved her eyes away from mine.

Something had happened, I decided.

Something had happened and neither girl wanted to talk about it. I didn't know what I was supposed to do about it. I knew that the sensible to do was to demand the truth from them both. Lila didn't lose her cool like that. But then I saw the look on Phoebe's face and felt the fear douse me. She didn't want to speak about it. And when she didn't want to speak about it, it was different then from when Lila didn't. Phoebe looked like she was ready to collapse from beneath the weight. I didn't want to push her further into a state of distress.

Besides, it seemed like Lila had been the one to start this. I would save my words for her.

"Well, um, in that case," I made a vague gesture. I was slightly numb, not sure how to handle the tension. "Maybe it's time to head back?"

"Finally!" And like that, the hardness was wiped from Lark's face. She leaped forward as a smile stretched across her face. "I'm starving. Maybe we should pick up a pizza on the way?"

"We are," Raven and I both responded, although my voice came out quieter.

"We're on the same wavelength!" Lark cheered.

"Totally," Raven grinned. "Although she wants pineapple on hers."

"Well, duh. How else are you supposed to eat pizza?"

"Not you to!" Raven wailed.

"HA!" I pointed in victory at her.

"Majority rules. Looks like you're the freak," Lark grinned and held up a hand. I pressed my lips together as nausea tangled in my chest. I wanted to know what had happened, but Lila had good instincts—usually. There had to be a reason that she had lost her temper like that, right? Her eyes sparkled when I raised my hand to return the high five. "Now. Let's get our pizza!"

---

The next time I was in Rhonda's bathroom, I was in a much better mood.

The girls had been laying out the boxes across the table. Plates and glasses cluttered, and it made me cringe. A headache was thumping between my ears and it was getting harder to carry a conversation. Stupid forcefields. I had decided to cure it by having a shower. Between the running and the training, I figured that I probably smelt and should wash away the grime and sweat. It would also give me some time to collect myself and douse in some silence. Rhonda had instructed me to use the floral body wash and not the cinnamon heat. And I would've listened but then she had wrinkled her nose and pulled a face as she scanned my form.

So now, here I stood, smelling like I had walked out of a bakery.

I had to admit though, it wasn't the worst scent.

Droplets slid down my face to soak the towel around my body and the bathmat beneath my feet. My skin was pink from the heat and my hair pushed back to run down my neck. Fog swirled and puffed against the glass.

I wiped the glass and stared at my reflection.

And this time, when I looked into the mirror, I felt different.

I hated looking at my reflection. Staring into my expression, I always felt distressed. I looked too much like my father and I hated it. It was a burden; I looked like him so therefore, I must be him. But this time, as I stared at my face, I felt like I was looking at something else.

I made a face and tried to pick apart what was so different. There shouldn't be anything different; I had showered and washed my face. Nothing else. I tilted my face. Lifted the side of my lips. Hunted. And when I couldn't see it, I frowned—

Oh.

When the realisation hit me.

I looked like Rhonda.

It happened when she frowned. She would crinkle her nose and then her gaze would momentarily dip. Her chest would heave like she was releasing steam and when her gaze came back up, a storm rolled in your heart.

That's who Rhonda was: Fierce. Intimidating. Challenging. Fire piled up her spine until it had filled the room with its heat. She moved through the world like she owned it; not because her parents could afford it, but because it had already tried beating her down. The world had contorted itself to douse her fires and maybe some days, it succeeded. But she always came back; you could never knock Rhonda down. She would rise from the ashes—every time. And whenever she did, her brow would mar her face—like it did mine. I held the same anger, the leftover resentment.

But shadows still lingered on my skin where I had hidden away while Rhonda was a match that set the place ablaze. She didn't fear attention like I did; she demanded. She didn't care how you were looking at her, she just knew that she deserved to be looked at. She deserved to be heard, to be respected. She wouldn't bow her head for anybody. The light shifted to accommodate her and her eyes glowed like they had been cut from diamonds. She told the world who she was, and it obeyed.

I looked like Lila.

It was in her smirk.

The way her lips would twist as confidence rippled across her face. It happened when she wanted you to think that she was fine, that there was nothing to worry about. Her lips would lift into that half–smile as she fashioned her features into a mask, wore them like metal. She gave it to me on several occasions—when she was bent over her knees at practise, exhausted and struggling to keep going. Or when her wounds would suddenly flare. Or when her homework piled and piled and she stared at her plummeting test scores. She brushed me off, every time. It's alright, Helga. Stop stressing, you're going to get wrinkles! She didn't want me to worry because she wanted me to save that concern for myself.

You would never think to put us together; we were seemingly nothing alike. Her eyes were a dark velvet while mine flashed like silver. She kept her hair knotted with colourful threads and pale shimmers, while the only knots I kept were at the bottom of my stomach. Her fire glowed from her strands while I was still smothering mine. I had trapped myself in my dreams and she had kept herself away from them. We had gone in opposite directions and yet somehow, we had found one another.

Darkness stirred behind us and filled our veins. We knew that it was there and held onto it. Insisted on carrying it like an old friend. We may have covered it with different faces, but we had spent years forcing it down. Felt it creep into our throats to eat away like acid. Had worked on our masks and pinned them to our faces so now, they were hard to claw off.

But . . .

She looked beautiful when she smiled.

And—

I wiped the glass when it had fogged over again. Tilted my face and lifted my lips into a smile. I was surprised to find that I didn't hate it as much.

I had a face that resembled theirs. Their pain stirred beneath my skin and moved my features into familiar formations. I looked like them, but not my eyes. Those were still mine and I had to reckon with that. But everything else, I could handle.

And Phoebe, I . . .

I stopped.

I still had to talk to her.

There was so much that hadn't yet been said. Too much was still dividing us. And until we could clear it, there would always be a wedge between us.

And I didn't want to let that remain a second longer.

So, drying myself, I dressed in my night clothes.

I pulled on my shorts but stopped when I got to my shirt. I had picked it up from my floor but now that I was actually looking at it, I realised that I must have been holding onto it for a while. It was much too short. It barely reached the top of my stomach.

I made a face then slung my towel around my shoulders. Pressed the fabric into my hair until it had gotten most of the water then slung my strands into a messy bun.

Strands were falling down my neck as I chucked the towel into the basket then exited the bathroom.

I walked down the hallway until I was in the living room.

"Is Phoebe he—" I stopped when I noticed what was playing on the TV. Then, rolling my eyes, I turned to the girls. "Really?"

"What?" Lila flung out her hands, already defensive. "Someone needs to understand the references that I make!"

They were watching a Sailor Moon episode.

I hadn't seen the show but I recognised the character instantly cause Lila had spent weeks at this point yammering to me about it. I didn't know what was happening but the girl with pigtails was arguing with her cat before huffing and holding up her pen to shout some words that conjured some magic.

Lila and Rhonda were slumped against the couch, each with a plate on their stomachs filled with their chosen pizza slices. Nel was squished between them and didn't look amused. Rhonda had served her some odd smelling tuna which she normally loved, but she was too distracted by the images on the television. I wanted to roll my eyes at Lila's insistence that we were anime characters, but I had to admit, it was amusing seeing how obviously tiffed this comparison was making Nel.

"I do not understand, Lila," she said, frowning at the redhead. "Is that cat supposed to be me?"

Lila blinked at her. "Yes?"

"But I do not even have a crescent moon!" she protested. "You are seeing things. There is nothing that links us outside of our species."

Yeah, which was a pretty big link.

"You don't see the resemblance, Nel?"

"No."

I rolled my eyes at her snappiness. Oh, brother.

I then noticed Rhonda and raised a brow.

"Hey Rhonda, what's currently happening?"

She didn't respond though. Her chin was tucked into her collarbone as she scrolled on her phone. I opened my mouth to repeat the question when a thought occurred to me, and instead I lifted my leg and stretched it so my foot was nearing her face—

"GET!"

She slammed her wrist into my toes before it could make contact with her skin. I reached out for the wall to stop from toppling to the ground. But despite it, I couldn't stop cackling. It made Lila and Nel glance away from the TV at us then roll their eyes when they realised what happened. Rhonda made a face which only made me laugh harder.

"That's disgusting," Rhonda scowled, wiping her chin even though I hadn't touched it. "Fucking hell!"

"Really, Helga."

Lila crossed her arms. "Yeah, are you twelve?"

"You're watching a cartoon."

"Anime!"

I made a face then turned to Rhonda. "So, Rhonda, what's currently happening?"

She furrowed her brow and I gestured to the TV.

"Oh," realisation dawned across her face. But then she didn't answer and Lila drew back in betrayal.

"How could you?!"

"What?!" Rhonda blinked then held her hands up. "Okay don't blame me. It's not that I wasn't paying attention but I—"

I shook my head and leaned forward to swipe a slice of pizza. The boxes were across the coffee table in various states of disarray. Thankfully there were still some slices of the Hawaiian, which I plopped onto the only plate that hadn't been snatched.

Feeling she had stopped talking because of me, I shot a victorious grin at Rhonda.

She sent me a glare.

"I was scrolling through twitter," she admitted then showed her phone. "Blue Jay's viral again."

"Wha—" I blinked then rushed to stand behind the couch, digging my hands into the fabric as I leaned over the back.

"I wanna see!" Lila said, then she and Nel leaned over Rhonda's left shoulder while I hovered over her right. Rhonda tapped the screen from where she had paused it. It was a video, taken from when I had been blocking everyone from that Laser Mutant. I had to admit, I was impressed with what I was seeing.

The beam shot out from the Mutant's face toward the group. But Blue Jay crossed her arms in front of her face and a forcefield popped up in time. The collusion cracked and made her buckle. The screen became shaky as the people behind murmured and gasped their surprise. But her spine straightened, knees bending slightly, and she stayed standing.

The beams buzzed as they straightened into a flare that made the barrier a flipping heat wave. Colours swam and the screen pulsated with flashing spots. Wind barrelled and whipped the wisps around Blue Jay's face as heat rolled across the floor. The lights spun in an electric wildness as the energy coursed around her. Her face contorted from the impact, but her eyes were fixed straight ahead.

"Your fighting's getting a lot better," Lila noted, raising her eyebrows. She smiled when she saw herself knocking the Mutant backwards. The beams disappeared and Blue Jay was free to drop her shields.

"After how long I've been doing this gig?" I asked, moving my arms and propping my fist beneath my jaw. "Yeah, I would hope so."

I ignored the dry look that Lila gave me.

"Yeah, and look at how awesome these pics are!" Rhonda announced as she exited the video to swipe through the photos.

I opened my mouth to bark at her when I noticed how cool they looked.

I rose my eyebrows. "Wow."

"Right?" she said.

There were two photos—the first was a freeze frame of the alleyway explosion. The orange twisted and stretched as it sprawled from the mouth of the alleyway. It flared against the sapphire lights from the street where the colours tied to burn against Blue Jay's figure. Strands were lifted from her braid, coiling in the coloured wind, and she stood, dark and straight like she was a movie poster.

The next photo she had a knife in her hand. Colours knotted then flared from the back of her head, fanning out like a halo. Strands slipped around her face as she turned to look over her shoulder where her eyes had hooked onto the camera.

She had been captured while her gaze was still stormy from the fight.

"How'd they manage to get such a good photo in the middle of a fight?" Lila rose her brows.

"Yeah, it's not fair!" Rhonda cried. She switched off her phone and as the device fell to her lap, she crossed her arms and leaned back against the couch. I stepped backwards to avoid getting knocked by the back of her head. "Why don't I get cool pics like that?"

"None of us should be," I reminded them. They each looked at me in disbelief, but Nel was nodding her agreement. "They shouldn't have been getting any photos."

"Party pooper."

I rolled my eyes.

"Too bad we don't have merchandise. This woulda made a killer poster," Rhonda said. Nel and I both shot her looks and she raised her hands defensively. "I'm just saying!"

I shook my face then moved around the couch again. I was headed for the table, but I noticed that the action made Rhonda scrunch her face like she faintly recognised something. She frowned at me, looking like she was trying to solve a puzzle that wasn't clicking.

"Where's Phoebe?" I asked.

"She said she needed some air," Rhonda answered, still staring at me.

I pushed my lips to the side then picked up my plate and headed for the sliding glass door. It let out a squeak as I rolled it open, and I shivered when the night air rolled down my face. I was stepping outside when I heard—

"Are you wearing my body wash?!"

I slammed the door shut before she could say anything else.

It was colder out here, I realised. The air sank down my collar and I quickly wrapped my spare hand around my arm to suppress the shivers that invaded anyway. Blood was beating in my ears and I began to regret wearing such an old shirt. I seriously needed to go through my closet and throw out the things that no longer fitted me.

But anyway, I pressed my lips and cast my gaze across the backyard.

Phoebe was easy to find.

She was sat at the glass table with her back against the chair's cushions. Her legs were drawn to her chest, ankles crossed, and hands wrapped around her shins. She hadn't looked up when I had shut the door. I didn't know if it was cause she hadn't heard me, or if she didn't care. But I watched her and felt my heart pound. It urged me to turn and run, bury this under fifty feet of sand like I normally did.

But I couldn't.

If I wanted better than I had to start doing better.

So, I sucked in a breath and approached her.

Phoebe jumped when she heard the chair beside her scraping against the patio beneath the table. Her eyes jolted to my face, but she didn't say anything as I sat down beside her. Our shoulders brushed each other's as I placed the plate down in front of her and pulled the chair in so it was tucked beneath the table.

I raised my eyes to the sky.

So did she.

And a silence followed.

Clouds filtered over the moon like lace, and shadows turned the grass into dark shards. The winds swept and made the trees quiver. Goosebumps rose but I didn't cover them. I pressed my toes into the concrete to stop myself from running. Counted each leaf as they limbered from their branches before finally breaking the silence.

"I'm sorry for being a bitch," I said. It made Phoebe jerk her gaze back to my face. The pulse in my neck raced so hard and fast that I forgot how cold I was for a moment. "Just—by the way."

"What?" she blinked, looking like she hadn't been expecting that. "But I—"

"Just listen," I said then released a breath. Forced my grip around the chair to loosen. Then let the words dislodge from my chest and slip past my mouth. "I've . . . I've been a bitch. More than usual, and I—I had no reason for it. You rejected the offer, but then you came back. I shouldn't be holding that against you, it was a lot to handle."

Phoebe turned her gaze to the table, traced her finger against the edge of the plate.

"But you didn't run away."

"I wanted to," I confessed, wanting to stop the flow of thoughts that I knew she was repeating to herself. "More than anything. I wanted to run away. I wanted to toss that cat out of my room and act like I'd never heard a word that she had said." My lip twitched. "But I couldn't. It was never an option for me. I had to . . . become Blue Jay. That night . . . that hour."

Phoebe glanced at me.

And I lowered my gaze to the table. I couldn't look at her—not yet. Because I knew that if I did, I would crumble and it would all be over. And I needed to tell her this.

"That's why I was so harsh on you," I continued, feeling my eyes strain from the tears that burned to be released. "I was resentful that you got an option and jealous that you got to say no. Figures. I spent my whole life wanting to be someone's first choice and when I finally am, it's so I can sacrifice myself over and over again so the world doesn't end."

"Helga—"

"But regardless, it isn't fair," I said, shutting my eyes. "It wasn't fair—not to you, or Nel, or the girls. It wasn't fair. It wasn't your fault. You're . . . you were allowed to say no. I shouldn't have blown up at you, especially when I don't know what I would've done in your position. As much shit as I gave you for saying no, I can't even say that I would've chosen differently. Hell, I don't even know if I would've come back."

"You would've."

It surprised me. She said it with such certainty that I opened my eyes to look at her.

"You don't know that."

"I do."

"How?"

"That's just who you are, Helga," she said with a shrug. "It's who you've always been."

"What have I always been?"

Her gaze softened.

"A fighter," she told me. "You always had this instinct to hold everything to your chest like you had a secret—or something to protect." She wrapped her hand around my wrist. "You have a strong heart, Helga. And I always knew you would do something special in your lifetime."

Her gaze had softened, but it was still hot. Her words sank into my mind and travelled until they were slipping between the cracks in my chest. Their edges had clinked with every move I had taken over the years, pain swelling until a hole had pushed between my ribs. But now Phoebe's love—the feeling that she was pushing through her gaze—was a light that wanted to sew those gaps back together.

And with all that, the realisation burned: how much I loved her. How much I missed her. It hurt to watch her walk away. And I had to let her go rather than fight because as much as I had fooled myself into thinking that we were the same, we would always be on the opposite end of the spectrum. Phoebe was smart; she would study and get the grades that she needed to take her anywhere that she wanted. And then, why would she ever need me? Everyone knew that I was a burden. It would only be a matter of time before she realised it as well. So, rather than being left behind, I had pushed her away because I was nothing if not prepared. If a blade was going to be driven into my chest, I would rather it be by my own hand than someone else's. Phoebe had been the one holding me up for so long, I couldn't handle if she was the one to walk away.

But though I had driven the wedge between us, I had also blamed her for not trying to repair it.

We had become our parents, I realised. She had forgotten about me while I had punished her for not being what I wanted.

"That's so like you, Pheebs," I smiled sardonically.

"What's so like me?"

"To compliment me like that when I'm trying to apologise to you," I answered then released her fingers so I could wipe my eyes. The tears had become too heavy for me to hold back anymore. "I owe you that at least."

"Oh," I didn't need to look to know that Phoebe was flushing. "I'm sorry . . . but you don't have to apologise."

"Yeah, I really do," I insisted, clearing my throat. Then, I wrapped my hand around hers again. "I've been a really shitty friend. Not just these past few weeks, but for a while. I've always walked over you and forced you to do whatever I say even if it got you in trouble. I expected you to go along with my shit because I took you for granted, even though you mean so much to me. And the minute you began standing your ground—putting your energy into studying like it should be—I blame you and hate you for it."

Phoebe watched me.

"I'm sorry," I finally released. It moved past my lips like a ghost. "For everything. For dragging you into my shit; for treating you like you were my sidekick; for making you feel like you had to go along and become a Guardian otherwise you were a terrible person—all of it. I'm sorry. You deserved a better friend. Hell, you deserved a friend, period." I looked at her. "But you're still my best friend, Pheebs. I may not be yours anymore but you're mine and I'm . . . I'm going to start acting like it."

She watched me when I said that, and her gaze softened into a molten grey. An emotion swirled that made her stare glossy. She swallowed, throat twitching. Blinked. Tried pushing the tears back. And when that didn't work and they were streaming down her face, she looked to the sky and released a shaky smile.

"I don't think you would've said that three months ago," she said. I chuckled and wiped my face. "Gosh, I can't believe what this has done for you."

"What?" I lifted a brow and smirked. "Made me nicer?"

"No. No, it made you stop being afraid to show that you're nice," Phoebe said, eyes moving across my face as if seeing something for the first time. "I just . . . can't believe that you were able to do it—protect Hillwood—on your own, for so long. How?" she wiped her cheek. "I mean, it must've been hard out there on your own. How did you keep pushing yourself to do it?"

"I thought of you," I told her.

And it made something dawn across her face. Like something had snapped into place and the weight of it was crushing into her shoulder. I frowned, opening my mouth to ask her what she was thinking, when I suddenly heard the words I had told her.

'I did all of that for you.'

'I never asked for that.'

"Helga, about what I said—"

"You don't have to—"

"No, but I do," she interrupted and her expression tightened. "Look, I—I didn't mean it . . . not like that. I was just—" she sighed, lifting her palm to push into her forehead, scraping back her bangs. "I was just so confused and overwhelmed and everything was getting too real. I wanted to say yes but then, what would that mean? How would it change my life? I'd managed to finally sort it all out until it felt like I had some control. And then I learned of this and . . ."

Her eyes went to my face and she paused. Her lips pressed together and her eyebrows furrowed as she looked between my eyes.

"I was scared," she finally said. "I was scared and confused and that's not an excuse, but it's my explanation. I didn't believe—couldn't believe that this was really happening and that it was happening to me. I—I'm not that girl. I study and learn and read. I like superheroes but I never saw that as something for myself. And then to be offered exactly that, it's—"

"Confronting," I smiled.

"Exactly," she nodded. "I was just worried that it was all a big mistake. I'm not used to being the one with power, with control. I didn't know how to handle it. I had been watching Blue Jay ever since she appeared and never once did I think I was anything like her. And when I found out she was you, eventually I said, 'That makes sense.' I could easily see you in her position, doing what she did. It wasn't hard to picture. But . . . swapping your face for mine, I . . ."

She lowered her eyes and shaking her face.

The sight made my stomach sink and I realised that by telling her that I had been doing everything for her, I may have unintentionally been guilting her. Driving the knife further into her chest. Cornering her and making her feel like she had to say yes, because I had been doing so much for her, so this was the least that she owed me.

"Listen," I said. "I didn't tell you that so you would feel pressured to join. I was angry but that hadn't been my intention. I'd been . . . hoping to make you understand."

She shifted in her seat, turning further in my direction, but didn't say anything.

I sucked in a breath and continued.

"That anytime things got hard and I wanted to quit, I reminded myself of you. I reminded myself that if I couldn't do this, if I couldn't pull through and keep picking myself up, you could pay for it. I mean, obviously, aliens wanna take over the world, which is pretty motivating on its own, but . . . it was your face that I saw whenever I was knocked down. I mean—fuck, Phoebe—I would've given up a long time ago if it wasn't for you," I smiled despite the water burning my eyes. "Because you've always stuck by me, through thick and thin. Those years kicked my ass and no matter how badly I treated you, you were always there. You weren't going anywhere. And I can't tell you how—" I blinked tears back. "—grateful I am for that. You're my person, Pheebs. You're more than a friend. You're my family."

The tears were preparing to slip down my cheeks. I lowered my eyes to force them back when I noticed that Phoebe's fingers were fiddling with the bracelet wrapped around her wrist—her trinket. I knew she fiddled with things when she was nervous. So I wrapped my hand around hers.

"And I just wanted to say that . . . that footage that you've seen of me when I was Blue Jay? It might make you think that she's perfect and flawless, but I . . . I'm still me." My voice broke when I said that. I raised my eyes back to hers and forced a shrug, but I could feel the tears finally breaking and flowing down my face. The sight made Phoebe's lips part. She leaned forward to wipe them when I squeezed her fingers and cleared my throat. "You know me, Pheebs. I've never been a natural at anything. I've always had to keep trying and trying and trying. It was a whole lotta trial and error because nothing came naturally." I swallowed and wiped my face. "So, don't let whatever happened out there mark you. Don't hate yourself or blame yourself if you make mistakes. We're not your parents—we're not going to punish you for not being perfect. We're not going to abandon you. You have us and you can rely on us. You're not alone. You have us . . . and we have you."

The pain was hot in my throat. We have you. I have you. The words I had been afraid to admit, to claim. The fear had wiggled and squirmed in my chest. I didn't like claiming things when they could leave me. Or watch me go and not do anything about it. I had avoided Phoebe because I was scared to see how this would end. Combed over that love until it was nothing.

Because love was dangerous. Love was a weakness; it was a disease. It meant losing control in the cruellest way. Because you could make promises to each other; spend all your time together, know each other like the back of your hand, but no matter what was said, one would always love the other more. I had gone down this road before, fooling myself into believing that this was different, but when the separation came, only one of us would still be holding on.

It had happened too many times for me to ignore. People left and there was nothing I could do about it. I was used to fighting for everything—fighting for my peace—but I couldn't do it when it came to this. To be left behind was the worst pain that I had experienced. When you were born without love, you became numb to it. But to have someone notice you—to stay while you showed them your scars—and still decide that you weren't worth it? I couldn't handle it. I wouldn't let people make promises to me because I couldn't handle when they were broken. I wouldn't let people know me because I couldn't handle it when they rejected me. I wouldn't tell anyone that I needed them because I wouldn't let myself need them. And I hadn't admitted it to Phoebe because if I did, it set me up to be left again.

She had never needed me, and I couldn't keep her.

And yet . . .

"I know you, Pheebs. You're the smartest gal out there. And your bracelet chose you. You're meant to be here."

She stared at me, the way she always did. There was a hazy glow behind her eyes, crawling out from the iris to crash into mine, as a ghostly smile twisted her lips. I had always thought it strange when she looked at me like that, like I comforted her rather than scared her. And her eyes never left mine either. She knew my face so there was nothing new to find. But there was something that she recognised and it made her happy whenever she saw it.

"You're still my best friend," she finally admitted.

That surprised me. "Really?"

"Yeah," she smiled. And when she did, so did I. "You never stopped being my best friend."

It made my lips part. The pain that had been gathering in preparation, vanished and was replaced with a warmth. And looking at her, I realised that she looked at me like that because there really was nothing for her to discover. Only something old to appreciate.

Something that she could keep coming home to.

The thought made water burn my vision again. But I didn't want to cry again after I had just managed to get everything under control. Cramps twisted in my throat as I swallowed those tears and pressed my lips together. The pain in my heart was familiar, an ache that burned from the stress. It was a strain that should have collapsed in relief, but instead, it just made me aware how much I had prepared for the worst. How much I always seemed to do that—prepare for the worst.

I was always in search of the bad guy crouched among the good. I was always wary of promising words because behind them, could be an abandonment the finally sent me over the edge. I was on the lookout, but I was also on the run. I thought I had been smart, I thought I was simply prepared. But maybe when preparing for the worst, I had grown to love it. Maybe I liked the pain, maybe I didn't know how to live outside of it. Maybe I was so prepared to sacrifice everything I had for someone, because I didn't know how to live in peace with them.

Because when you prepared so much for the worst, it made it hard to appreciate what you got right.

The thought made more water break down my face. I waited for the pain, I waited for the hurt. But Phoebe pressed her forehead into my shoulder and when she did, I tightened my hold around her. I had made many mistakes and I would continue to keep doing it. But it comforted me to know that through it all, Phoebe was the one thing that I had gotten right.

"I missed you," she admitted.

She rolled her face until her temple was laying on my shoulder.

I swallowed my tears. "I missed you too."

Silence nestled between us like it used to. A cocoon that shielded us from the cacophony that waited for us outside. The sky had always been dark around us, bruised from the sound and swollen from the strikes that had been thrown. When you were born in a storm, you learned that peace came after violence. And when we couldn't find any, we had become our own. I shone when she shone, and she smiled when I did. The storm had gotten louder when Nel had appeared and it threatened to tear apart more than I could ever imagine. But the gold that pulled Phoebe to my side had brought her back and now, her calm washed over me as the storm passed us.

I cleared my throat. "Did you think of any Guardian names yet?"

"Yeah," I could hear her smiling. "I'm thinking . . . Wren."

She lifted her face when she said that. Her lips lifted higher as something sparkled in her gaze.

"Wren," I repeated, raising my eyebrows. "I like it."

"Thanks," she said with a nod then turned her face to look at the pizza. Her smile fell and she glanced at me. "Pineapple. Really, Helga?"

"Eh, shuddup."

She rolled her eyes with a small laugh.

I opened my mouth to say something when a cracking sound filled the sky. It made us jump apart and when we looked, lights were bursting across the night. Sparks that were shot cracked and burst into brilliant lights. They flared, glistening like stars.

Fireworks.

My jaw dropped and I turned to Phoebe to find that her expression mirrored mine. Her lips had parted as the light swirled to reflect in her irises. Shadows swooped beneath her cheeks as light streamed past her temples to run into her hair.

"Huh," I said, getting her attention. "Look at that."

Her eyebrows rose. "I know."

And then, she did the thing that she always did when she became excited. Her lips would lift into a smile that she couldn't contain so she would tilt her face to the side. She would bite her lips but even that couldn't contain her excitement, her glee. Because it rippled across her face, made her eyebrows raise so her eyes became wider. And they would shine like they contained skylights.

It made something turn in my stomach and I realised that it was because I made the same expression.

I looked like Phoebe.

The wonder. The optimism. The elation. She still held onto it. She had her love ripped from her hands as the storm had rolled overheard, revealing that emptiness. Her dreams had been taken and scattered across the floor. But we had picked up those broken pieces to stitch together a happy mosaic. They had made loving scary. What was the point in loving if it could leave you? And yet, we had done it anyway. We wouldn't let their hatred become our own. Her gaze was a dart, but galaxies still shone from it.

"So," I tilted my face. "I take it that the deal is still on?"

"Of course," she grinned then held out her pinky. "Fireworks."

I smiled and wrapped my finger around hers.

"Burning up the night."

And as we shook on it, I decided that I didn't care that I was broken. I didn't care that I was a puzzle piece that was too messed up to fit in anywhere. Because when Phoebe was by my side, I decided that no place in the world fit me more.

We were interrupted when the door was swung open.

We turned to find Rhonda, Lila and Nel leaving the house to pour out across the grass.

"No way!" Rhonda shoved her fingers into her hair as she walked towards the table. The lights bolted across her face and burned like stars in her eyes. "Fireworks?"

"Someone must be having a celebration," Lila said with her hands in her pockets. The colour rolled across her features as a shadow flared from beneath her right cheek and twisted with her lips.

"So late into the night?" Nel asked and leapt onto the table.

"Hush, cat!" Rhonda held up a hand then placed an item that she had been carrying onto the table. I blinked when I realised that it was a speaker. I wanted to say something when she fiddled with her phone and sound began pouring from the speakers. "Now, let's dance!"

I frowned. "Rhon—"

"Phoebe said it!" Rhonda pointed accusingly in Phoebe's direction, who raised her eyebrows. "Dance party, remember?"

I pressed my lips together then turned to Phoebe. She smiled sheepishly then lifted her shoulders in a 'what're ya gonna do?' typa shrug.

"Now if y'all are done pooping all over my fun—" Rhonda placed her phone down on the table then wrapped her hands around Nel, who squawked in protest. "—let's dance, motherfuckers!"

Cowboy Carter
Time to strike a match
And light up this juke joint

She ran from the patio, skipping until she was standing in the middle of the yard, then began spinning in circles. Nel was barking—ha—at her to put her down. But Rhonda being Rhonda, didn't listen and instead laughed.

"C'mon!" she shouted to us.

One-one-one by one, you hang them high
Your hands are steady and you sleep at night
How did you turn your heart to stone?
I don't want him back, but I can't let go

And I watched as she did. Her smile had spread across her face as moonbeams melted between her teeth. She was bobbing her knees to the beat, wiggling her waist and twirling. Her hair had become curtains that were thrown in the storm. Lights flashed from the skies and across the grass, burning hot when it reached her copper skin.

She was glowing like she couldn't contain herself.

I huffed but felt the smile lifting my face.

Lila turned to me, hands behind her waist.

"Well, who am I to disrupt a tradition?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. I looked at her and recognised that her gaze had a honeyed tone to it. She grinned, spinning on her heel, and joined Rhonda.

Hangman, answer me now
You owe me a debt, you stole him from me

Her movements were a little awkward, she bounced on her toes and swung her wrists around. It was a surprising discovery, that she couldn't dance. And when she began tilting her head to the sides, I couldn't stop myself from laughing. She wheeled around when she heard the sound, smiling and flipping me the bird.

I hated you once, I envy you now
Just tell me how, tell me how

The action had me laughing again, and as Lila turned to continue her awkward movements, I exchanged a look with Phoebe.

Her lips were lifting into another smile as she gave me another shrug. But her eyes were bubbling with an excitement.

So, we joined the girls and began dancing.

Oh, she got that whoa there, hangman got that whoa there
Don't act like you don't know, giddy up, giddy up (D.A. got that dope)

And as I did, the night air clung to me. It jolted down my body like barbed wire, but I didn't care. The beat pressed into my bones, travelling deeper, and I rolled my body in response. Reality had collapsed from beneath my worries, pressed down from the tragedies as I was forced to make hectic twists and turns to keep up with everything. The world on my back, my spine threatened to snap with every step and in order to keep everything together, I had tucked everything behind me. Shoved it backwards until it was out of everyone's sights. Crushed behind the bars, the locks had splintered my wings. And while it had happened, I had longed for the other side because the grass was supposed to be greener.

Don't pay me in gold, giddy up, giddy up
Back outside, I'm on the road, giddy up, giddy up

But now, with every step, the burden lightened. The music moved down my body like it were ecstasy, mouthing the words as I spun. There was a force inside me, I realised. It was a melody still bound in its chains. Contained in its prison. Waiting for a saviour to utter its password. But now, a siren's voice was calling, and falling deeper and deeper into the trance, I could feel the force rising until the darkness was melting away. The grass crunched beneath my feet as light twisted in the breeze. I could feel my hair shaking loose from my ponytail and falling down my back, but I didn't care.

When the sun goes down (It's night-night, hey)
Can hear her body howl (In the moonlight, hey)
I feel her eyein' me like owls (It's on sight, hey)
Hide your man when the hangman come in town (Ooh, yikes)

I had spent so long fantasising about the moment where he found me. That moment where everything burst in my chest as he pressed his fingers to dig out the heart that I had kept buried. Broken the locks with the right words. I had wanted that and maybe, I still wanted it. But now, I wondered what would happen if I cracked those locks on my own. Crushed the pieces until everything burned a different colour. Would I see flashing visions? Would it repair my broken wings? Would I start liking the girl in the mirror?

She's a tyrant every time I ride it, every time I ride it
Make it look so good, try to justify it
Boy, I know they're lookin' for me, how we gonna hide it?
Ride it like hydraulics, I am such a tyrant

I spun to the beat and began envisioning those chains snapping from around my arms. The forces coursed up and down my arms so though the air was still cold, I felt rich. It skipped around me in lucid colour, twirling and lifting the fabric from my skin. Fingers wrapped around mine and looking to the smiling faces around me, I realised that I hadn't felt peace like this in years.

Every time I ride it, every time I ride it
I don't like to sit up in the saddle, boy, I got it
Just relax, I got this, I got that exotic
Hips are so hypnotic, I am such a tyrant

And as I dipped to the ground, making wild gestures with Rhonda, I knew that this feeling wouldn't last. Tomorrow, it would be another war—another battle that needed to be won. That this feeling that consumed me was only temporary and tomorrow, it would be all over and we would be back to square one.

But for now, I laughed and danced.

Spread my wings and flew.

Unfettered by the past.

Unsure about the future.

But flying free in the present.

---

Arnold had no idea how long he had been lying there, scrolling on his phone. He knew when he lifted his eyes to the roof that it had been a while. The skies had been a light mauve when he had gotten back but now, it was dark. The full moon was hanging high as the stars bled their light.

He wasn't stressed as he normally would be. It was a Saturday night, and he didn't have any plans for tomorrow—well, today at this point.

He had been in a daze when he had gotten back. His head was swimming and there was a burning beneath his skin that pushed his heart into his throat like it wanted to escape. He didn't know why he felt this way. But it had started when he had glanced at his phone while he was still at Eugene's. The boy had convinced him to stay a little later for some dinner and as he had been rambling to him about a movie he had seen, Arnold had gotten a glance at his notifications.

H. Pataki accepted your follow request.

He didn't know what his reaction had been to reading that. He didn't think he had smiled or made a noise. But at some point, Eugene had begun snapping his fingers inches from his face. Arnold had blinked, forgetting that he had even been talking, and the boy scrunched his face before glancing at the screen. He pulled away with a funny look that Arnold couldn't understand.

"Oh," he said, like he understood.

What he understood, Arnold couldn't be sure.

But his mind had quickly filled with fog that made time slip away and before he knew it, he was on his way back home. He hadn't even changed his clothes when he had gotten back to his room. He had merely kicked his shoes off then flopped onto his bed, where he stared at the roof as his mind spun.

He could barely feel the time passing. Hours became minutes, and he suspected that if he were to pull apart those minutes to peer at the seconds that filled them, his brain still wouldn't comprehend them. Everything blurred and merged until it was merely a passing moment. His chest was too light—he was too light. Or, maybe he wasn't, maybe it wasn't. Maybe his chest was sinking while it was his mind that was floating. He couldn't be sure. And whichever it was, he wasn't sure how he was supposed to climb back down.

He glanced at his phone for the hundredth time. His chest burned when he didn't see that notification that he had been waiting for, but he clicked on the app anyway. Because maybe, it was broken. Maybe those notifications were too slow, and she had actually responded and there was nothing to worry about—

He faltered when he saw his almost empty inbox.

He tried to find some relief in the fact that she hadn't seen the message—that she wasn't secretly laughing to her friends about him—but it was short lived. Because it just kept him in the limbo that he had been stuck waiting in for too long.

He released a noise then tucked his hands behind his head and stared at the roof again. Music pumped into his ears from his headphones, but none made it past his jangled thoughts.

He was still trying to comprehend what had happened today.

If anything had happened.

This afternoon shouldn't have been different from their previous encounters. He had been used to standing at the edge of Helga's world, trying to peer past the gaps in her walls. There had been a distance wedged between them for a long time and though he had never gotten comfortable with it, he had gotten used to it.

But then, she had looked at him today and it suddenly seemed as if she was too tired to keep up those barriers. Her strength was faltering and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her. Arnold was used to being there for people when they were too tired to keep going, but there was something different when that person was Helga. Something that almost made his knees give out as he searched for a way to make things better.

Maybe, he reasoned, it was the history between them. There had always been so much tension between them and barely any words. He never knew what to say; when she was around suddenly all that wisdom that everyone praised him for was out the window. He was always managing to say the wrong thing to her and somehow make it all worse.

And those words he had given her—

'You really hate me, right?'

—they had been the start of it.

He didn't want that to happen again; where he said something and ruined everything. So, he had chosen his words carefully and extra slow (which had made him a blushing moron that even she noticed).

But then, she had moved her eyes away from his.

Years had passed between them and they had taught Arnold savviness. He knew that she still watched him and he had become hyper–aware when it was her gaze that was pressing into his face from across the halls. He wanted to be bothered by it, but he wasn't. It made an odd warmth spread in his chest that he had thought meant that he was flattered. And whenever she had turned away, he returned the favour—he watched her too. He didn't know why he did: maybe he had been hoping to catch her gaze or maybe he found how her face had grown over their time apart captivating. But what he did know was that he had always been more discreet, and either snuck in glances when she was looking away, or when he was surrounded by other faces.

She never noticed.

But today he had forgotten his usual tact, because she had looked so different.

And yet, so herself.

The sun had slipped out and crashed against her face like waves. And it was like thousands of restraints across her skin and her defences had washed away. The lines in her face disappeared and she glowed like she had something ethereal beneath her skin. He watched as the sunlight moved down her throat and pooled across her chest, pushing her hair back until it was shuffling around her shoulders.

And then, she had opened her eyes, and it was like he had been struck.

They had always had that effect on him—stopping him in his tracks. Turning his voice to stone. They were so vivid and hot, it was like someone was running a spear through your chest. But in that moment, with the sunlight swirling between the warm sun–lit currents, his heart had rolled to his feet.

Years ago, when Helga had walked away from him, Arnold thought that there would only ever be ashes between them. That between them stood a barren wasteland. But she had come back and turned everything back around.

He realised how nonsensical that sounded; she had walked away and yet somehow, he had become lost. It was like she had turned the light out. Or led him deep into a maze then sealed it shut as she abandoned him. There had been a loss carved into his chest and he knew that if he tugged hard enough, it would all lead back to her. The guilt. Maybe it had been his fault; maybe it had always been his fault. It was his words that had caused her to pull back until she was with the shadows. He wanted another go so he could make things right.

He had spent years wondering what would happen if there had been a second chance. Did he want something to happen? What was he supposed to say—sorry that I hurt you? Would that ever be enough? He had searched for words that could match his feelings, but he had never found them. He still hadn't gotten it right because Helga had always been different from everyone that he ever knew.

So when she turned to repeat what had happened between them years ago—leave him— he had acted without thinking. He wrapped his hands around her and pulled her back until she was at his side.

And it was weird. He was touching her and yet, it was her touch that sent sparks shooting across his skin. His heart had been in his throat and he suddenly found it hard to talk. And maybe over the years, he had begun to believe her. Maybe, for as much as he had preached that there was more to Helga Pataki, a part of him had also gotten swept up within her performance. Believed that she was hardened and nothing could affect her. But beneath his fingers, her cheeks had turned into rosebuds, and he remembered that she was nothing like the girl she pretended to be.

And when she had looked at him, something passed between them. Something had been passing between them for a while now. It filled him with that feeling. The feeling that he had only gotten when he was around her—something that welled in his chest and flushed him so warm that he couldn't help smiling. It happened automatically and without permission. He couldn't control it. He didn't know when it had begun, only that it had been getting harder and harder to hold himself back from doing something stupid while in her presence.

It had been happening more and more frequently lately. When the lights became tangled in her hair. When her eyes would lift from the ground into his. When her fingers were wrapped around his arm. When she said his name. When she stood so close that he could smell her hair. Daffodils. He loved that smell. But what had changed? Had anything changed? There had been many times where he had looked at her and thought that she was pretty. Beautiful. And it made Arnold's cheeks burn. His stomach would dance. But why? Where was all this coming from? And why was he checking his inbox again?

He slammed his phone down with a groan. He hadn't even realised that he had been checking his notifications. Why was he losing control like this? It had also happened today when she had been standing so close that he had glanced at her lips and . . .

Her phone had rattled with a text and when she had looked away, his actions finally caught up with him. He suddenly became self–conscious as his face turned hot. He looked away before she could see. It was true that they had gotten closer these past few months and he had assumed that would put an end to these feelings. If he felt so guilty over what had happened between them, then surely watching as she began integrating back into the grade would make his feelings ease. They didn't. He had initially thought that they were getting stronger until he realised that the volume was the only thing that increased. His feelings had stayed the same. He had just stopped ignoring them. It made everything more complicated as it became jarring to be so close to her. To talk to her. Everything felt wrong like no matter how much he tried, he was never going to get it right. He would either reveal too much or too little, like before. Helga had always been a weird fixture in his life, the road he had never taken. And when she stood so close to him, something swirled between them like a thread that tugged him until he was walking down the path that he frequently thought about.

He had traced those patterns into her skin to comfort himself as much as her. He wasn't going anywhere, he told himself. He wanted to tell her. The past wouldn't become their present. If she ever gave him her hand, then he promised to himself that he wouldn't let it go.

That was what he decided.

And then, for another time, he checked his phone.

Nothing.

He sighed.

Today, he had asked her if she wanted to be friends, and she hadn't gotten to answer. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He wasn't sure how he felt about anything.

He sighed again when he caught sight of Lila's highlighted profile.

She had posted.

And he didn't know what possessed him, but he tapped on her story as if it contained all his answers.

And what he found was . . .

Helga . . . dancing.

Ooh, she got that whoa there, hangman got that whoa there
Don't act like you don't know, giddy up, giddy up (D.A. got that—)
Don't pay me in gold, giddy up, giddy up
Back outside, I'm on the road, giddy up, giddy up (Hey)

Arnold faintly remembered that Eugene had been the one to mention it—that she had at some point contemplated joining their school's dance classes. But it had been a long time ago and when they had been fighting, it had gotten lost beneath the typhoon that was Helga Pataki. He had never known Helga could dance, could never picture it. So he hadn't thought much of it.

But now . . .

When the sun goes down (When the suns goes down)
You can hear this body howl (You can hear this body howl)

She was facing the camera, but her eyes weren't settled. They were moving but not with recognition. She hadn't noticed that she was being filmed. She was too wrapped up within the confines of the beat. Her hips were moving, knees bending to support the flow. Helga had never been one to know how to express herself—she still hadn't chosen how she wanted to carry herself. Whether she wanted to be so guarded that you never approached her or shrink until she faded into the background. But now something was bursting forth that Arnold knew had been wanting to free itself. It shone and left him mystified.

Giddy up now, diggadont, diggadont
Digga daddy, leave me 'lone, leave me 'lone
Damn if I do, dammit if I don't
Lady with a whip, want what she wanna want, okay

At some point, her hair had fallen from its confines and waves poured down her back. Arnold blinked, an unsettling warmth creeping up his chest and into his neck. He had never seen her like this, like—

"Helga!"

"Yes?"

And then, she spun around, and Arnold felt like his chest had stopped. Because when she turned to him—Rhonda—the light had tangled in her wild mane. It glowed like a halo, a ghostly smile twisting her full lips, and he became aware that he was staring like a complete moron with his thumb still on the screen.

He went to swipe away but for some reason, his body wasn't responding and he kept staring at her. He couldn't help it. She smiled, really smiled. It was bright and lopsided and absolutely stunning, and he suddenly hated that he wasn't there to see it.

Her eyes traced up and down the phone in Rhonda's hands. Her brows furrowed, and Arnold expected for her to lose it—bark at her friend for filming it. But instead, she shrugged and her smile climbed higher.

And then she turned and kept dancing, and Arnold knew, right then and there, that it was all over for him.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

---

I sighed, later that night.

The bad thing was when it came to dancing, it was hard to settle back down. I could still feel the energy that had gathered and refused to leave. It pumped so hard that my hands were still vibrating. I couldn't sleep and stared up at the roof for who knows how long until eventually I gave up and rolled over the side of the bed.

Shivers traced down my spine as I peered around the dark room. Lila was in Rhonda's room with the princess herself while I shared a bed with Phoebe in this room. The plan had originally been to set up the mattresses in Rhonda's room, so that made the sleepover more "authentically girl." But from the running, fighting and dancing, we were too tired to make up the beds and had just decided to split up and use the spare ones.

Where now, I couldn't sleep.

So, looking around the room, I made sure not to make any loud noise as I crept for the door. I could still hear Phoebe's slow breathing and when I looked over my shoulder at the still form wrapped in blankets, I knew that she was still asleep.

I shuffled down the hallway where the lights were already on in case someone needed the bathroom in the middle of the night. I didn't know where I was headed until I had rounded the corner and found myself entering the kitchen.

But when I caught sight of the figure already there, I came to a stop and smirked.

"You couldn't sleep either?"

Lila looked up from her spot on the kitchen counter. She was sitting cross–legged, wearing her colourful pyjamas with her hair piled into a messy bun. Her posture was slouched over a tub of ice cream as she held a spoon in her mouth.

She took it out when she realised that the voice belonged to me, and grinned.

I rolled my eyes when she didn't answer.

But rather than giving her crap for sneaking out to pig out, I joined her.

Pulling open the drawer to the cutlery, I grabbed a spare spoon and sat across from her. The bench was cold beneath my shorts, so I mirrored her position, folding my legs and tucking my feet beneath my knees.

And so we sat there, eating the ice cream in a short silence.

I decided to be the one who would break it.

"Figures the night we decide to pretend that everything is normal," I said while lifting the spoon to my lips. "Something very not normal decides to happen."

Lila shrugged. "It was fun while it lasted."

"Y'know, it surprisingly was," I said when I'd swallowed my mouthful. "I don't think I'd mind doing it again."

She grinned, raising her eyebrows. "Told'cha."

"That game of truth or dare was intense."

"Yeah."

"But we—" I shuffled. "That's not how we think of you."

"Hm?"

"About you being a liar," I filled in. "We . . . none of us think of you as one."

Her smile became melancholic.

"Doesn't change facts, Helga," she said with another shrug. "I've lied to you all for years."

"And I bullied you for years," I pushed back. "So, let's . . . let's make a pact, alright? You're no longer a liar and I'm no longer a bully."

Lila rose both eyebrows. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious."

And for extra emphasis, I held up my pinky for her to shake.

Lila was quiet for a moment; her eyes travelled from my hand to my face, then to the spoon that I was holding between my teeth.

And she smiled.

"Okay, then—deal."

She wrapped her finger around mine and we shook on it.

And I realised how foolish I had been, this entire time.

Love was dangerous, I had been telling myself. Love was a curse, love was an act. It was a trance that seduced you into dropping your defences before robbing you blind. Love was suffering that you mistook for freedom. And then it left you, cold, crying and alone, looking foolish.

And maybe, it still was.

Maybe that hadn't changed. Wouldn't ever change.

But sometimes, it was more than that. Sometimes, it was pain, but sometimes it was nurture. Sometimes, it was a gun, but sometimes it was shelter. Sometimes it was fire and sometimes it became rain. Sometimes, it was giving everything for somebody who wouldn't return it. But sometimes, it was receiving something back.

Love would always be a sacrifice. That's what made it dangerous. But sometimes those sacrifices were worth it. I had spent years hiding, scared to repeat history. I didn't want to feel the sting again as someone left me. I was terrified that the next time that it happened, it would confirm that the transformation was complete, and I really would become him. That I would push my claws out until my wounds became theirs. I had jammed myself behind prison bars to make sure that I wouldn't ever fly again. But I still had cradled those dreams, I didn't have the heart to abandon them. That his eyes would wheel in my direction and he would say all the right words that proved he loved me like I loved him. But it never happened, and the longer that I waited, the more my wings had crumbled.

He hadn't come and it must have been because I wasn't worth it. That was the conclusion I had come to. And soon, the dreams that I had been holding too tightly onto had formed into handcuffs, and darkness wrapped around me like a cloak.

But now, hands were pressing into my skin and gently lifting my face. The light was breaking over me, splitting into tiny pieces, as the hope that I had been trying to suppress was ready to move upwards.

I had become so afraid of screwing everything up. So afraid that they would leave me like I had been left before, that I thought that I needed to get everything right. It was a need so desperate that I couldn't help getting it all wrong. But maybe, that had never been the problem. Maybe while I had been searching for any way to be right, what I had really needed was for someone to tell me when I was wrong . . . and stay.

When you poured everything you had into one person, it became easy for it all to fall apart, and that had happened—for everyone here. We had all come apart in various pieces, we were all broken. But the light had tied our sides together so now, we were prismatic chips pieced together. Mismatched colours but still glorious. I still had my scars and they weren't going anywhere. But at least when I was here with everyone, I could feel again without it hurting.

"Although technically," Lila said, leaning back. "Us being superheroes makes us all liars."

I smirked. "Eh, doesn't count."

She laughed and so did I.

I stopped when I remembered that we weren't the only ones here and could still wake the others up (which I knew that the princess wouldn't appreciate). I hadn't turned my phone back on since we had gotten back so I had no concept of time. It easily could've been three in the morning. But then I looked at Lila and felt my questioning die. Her eyes were twinkling as her lips lifted into a grin. I felt my own mouth tilting into a smile, until I remembered something I had been itching to talk to her about.

I hesitated before deciding to go for it.

"So, what happened back there?" I asked, clearing my throat. "Between you and Pheebs, I mean."

Her smile disappeared.

"Nothing."

And a shield came up.

"What?" I frowned. "But you—"

"Nothing happened," she snapped. It surprised me. I wasn't used to seeing Lila like this, so guarded and resolute. "It doesn't matter. Just a small tiff."

"Tiff? But I—"

"It's late, Helga. We should get some sleep."

I paused, noticing how much her demeanour had changed. One moment, she was bright and sunny and now, she was vigilant. She was acting how I did when we had stumbled into a territory that I didn't want to cross. And rather than open up about it, I shut it down.

"Alright, but I—" I hesitated. I knew those feelings, knew how painful it was to reopen those wounds, and I didn't want to impose. When people did that to me, it was as insulting as it was painful. "You would tell me if something was up, right?"

Lila hesitated, gaze falling to the counter, before she shook her face and stood from the bench.

"Goodnight, Helga."

---

Sooo, what do we think happened between Lila and Pheebs? 👀 And why won't she tell Helga about it? All shall be revealed, over the next few chapters!

Also yayyyy, Arnold has finally clocked onto his own god dang feelings! Took him long enough.

For some reason, the reviews have not been coming into my emails, so I was shocked to find that some lovely people had left reviews without my knowing! Allow me to get to those now:

acosta perez jose ramiro: Yes, absolutely about the inflated ego! I've done a fair bit of reading about the human ego and so I massively relate to Helga here. Humbling yourself can be a way to keep your ego from overdeveloping into naraccism. She's worried that she'll be transformed into a person who can't be reached by anyone else, because her own words will be all that matters in the world. She's seen this in her father and, at least subconsciously, recognises that that's the main cause to her family's grief. She doesn't want to become like her father to anyone else. She basically has a massive fear of being unable to control her ego and anger, which admittedly, would make her (and anyone) an awful person. And she's not even entirely wrong, because people have the potential to become anything.

Kryten: For sure, she does! It's an interesting side effect to anxiety disorders, I've found, where you utterly are convinced that everything traces back to you (speaking as someone with anxiety ofc). It's annoying, but its what happens when you feel so poorly about yourself.

IHKF: My jaw dropped when I saw your review! Thank you so much, this truly made my day! It motivated me to get back to writing when my motivation had begun to dwindle. YES! I've written this before but, to me, the most important aspect about Magical Girl stories has always been the girls! Not necessarily their powers, but their bonds! Its a genre where femininity and feminine objects are supposed to be reclaimed as tools of power, in opposition to the patriarchal status quo, where anything linked with women is synonymous with weakness. It's why Sailor Moon, to this day, is still my favourite magical girl anime, because it went further then establishing the plot, it had plenty of episodes where it featured the characters just being teen girls! They made you care about this girls, not because they were Sailor Scouts, but because they were just likeable and relatable characters. And that's what I've been trying to do with this story. Obviously, it's darker (then the anime version anyway), but the characterisation and development has always been my biggest priority, more then the supernatural forces.

I've loved writing for all the girls, but you're right, there's always been something about Lila that stands out. Her and Helga are perfect mirrors to each other, which I definitely thinks signifies their relationship. I always thought it a tradgedy that the show never went about establishing a friendship between these girls. They could have healed a lot of their own inner wounds, I think. And I find it even more frustrating that a lot of fanfic writers portray Lila as The Other Woman, or whatever sexist iteration they prefer. Lila canonically got over Arnold very quickly and even stepped aside for Helga, even though she had no reason to. But anyway, yes, their friendship was definitely a primary goal for this story.

And YES, fully agree about that confession! It would've been interesting if the show had integrated that decision into the show, having Helga internalise Arnold's response as a rejection. But they never did. I've always been a little sour about it 💀You can definitely expect for there to be way more scenes between them, now that the girls are mending any cracks that have been placed between them. Again, thank you so much for your review, hopefully you enjoy this chapter as well!

Be sure to leave a comment if you enjoyed this chapter, or you had something you wanted to say! I never tire of reading your guys' beautiful words! And follow my tumblr (same username) to partipcate in polls, recieve updates and snippets ahead of posting!

Song(s) Mentioned: TYRANT by Beyoncé