Helga G Pataki: Hillwood's New Superhero

by KlutzyMaiden123

As if my life wasn't already difficult. I already had to watch the love of my life making goo–goo eyes at little Ms. Perfect while completely ignoring me. Now, I also have to juggle school, keep my feelings for him a secret and fight evil while dressed in nothing but a skimpy bathing suit, all while hiding my new lifestyle as a superhero from my nosey classmates.

3. Superhero in Training

HUGE thank you to everyone who favourited and followed the story! Y'all are dolls and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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It's not like I hadn't stayed up late before.

I wasn't someone who typically stayed up til the early hours of the morning for the heck of it, but it also wasn't uncommon for me to complete homework that I'd been putting off until the night before it was due. Or bingeing shows so thoroughly that I lost track of time. There were even times when my fights with Bob had gotten to become so much that I'd slam the door and not come back for hours.

So, the concept of not having the best sleep? That wasn't a problem, nor foreign.

However, this? This sucked.

None of the above had happened last night; I hadn't stayed up late watching anything or panicking over overdue homework. I hadn't even seen Bob. What had kept me up, I'll admit, wasn't something I was familiar with; spending the night dressed in a tiny leotard, running around with a talking cat and—oh, yeah—fighting an alien.

Never, in my wildest dreams, did I ever factor that being something I would have to deal with. I wasn't even sure how it had happened—one minute, I had been in my room, pressing my face into my pillows, and then, next thing I knew, I was running around with magic powers.

Which, by the way, as cool as they were, were also inconvenient.

I mean, I thought it was a cliché, showing the superhero, the next day after finding out about their powers, forgetting about their strength and breaking things. But apparently, Hollywood wasn't too off the mark. It hadn't even been twenty–four hours since I'd gotten mine, and so far, I had broken the tap to my bathroom sink, my tea cup and a door handle.

That last one, I was still upset about. I had been so careful after shattering my tea cup and made sure to pinch things between my fingers if I needed them. But one glance at the time had me forgetting about my decision to be as delicate as possible, and in my rush to make it to the stop in time, I yanked the door open and found the handle between my hands . . . detached from the door.

Maybe I should just blame Miriam.

Nel had explained that I would get used to it eventually, it was just the first few days that would feel bizarre. She had also explained, once we got back home, how much that I needed my sleep. It kept you rejuvenated and alert and peaceful. But the minute that my head had hit the pillow and my eyes had shut, my mind found itself in a loop. Replaying last night's events—over and over and over again. The Mutant's gaze had seared itself into my soul. I couldn't unsee it, or its fists zooming for my face. Only this time, in the dream, I couldn't defend myself.

I shook my face.

And almost stumbled into a streetlight.

Criminy.

That was the fourth obstacle I'd almost walked straight into. Before, it had been a garbage bin, two separate cars and a parking meter. How was it possible that, one moment, I was an ultra–cool, super graceful, badass superhero, and then next, I was back to being clumsy, ditzy Helga? How was that fair?

This day had barely begun and yet already I knew that it would be a long one.

Shuffling around the corner, I noticed a hunched form down the next street. Superhero sight wasn't finding me, I was too tired from the lack of sleep. I had to blink a couple times and then squint to recognise the form—

Arnold.

He stood at the bottom of his steps, waiting for our bus, as usual. His bag was slung over one shoulder and his green gaze was locked on the screen in his hand. It was hooked to his earbuds. He looked bedazzled, bamboozled, with whatever he was watching—a funny video, I was sure.

A sensation suddenly grew as I approached him. It was a pressure, something that grew in the base of my throat and pushed down, like it needed to be released, or it would become an anchor. I frowned at the sensation. Where was it coming from?

Arnold didn't look up when I stopped a few feet away from him. I couldn't help the disappointment that sank through me. I didn't know what I was expecting, that maybe after having a night that I had last night, he would . . . I don't know, notice something about me. Not figure out what had happened, but just think that there was something different about me.

I knew that it was a good thing that I still was invisible to him. I didn't need anymore pressure then what I had been given. But a girl couldn't help but still dream that her crush would wake up one day and become enamoured with her.

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I avoided looking at him, casting my gaze across the road. The lack of sleep was really beginning to hit me. I could feel my mind slipping between the bars that I had built around myself, oozing between the cracks into a flowing stream. I had to be careful, make sure that I didn't let my guard down, and reveal something to someone. Not that people paid attention to me anyway, but still, couldn't be too careful.

'Oh, Helga, you look tired. Is there something wrong?'

'Nah, nothing much, Ms. Hartman. Just spent the night running around, dressed as a Victoria's Secret model, and killed an alien with a little knife. Oh, and did I mention that I broke a door today? Because I'm a worrying combination of strong and stupid? Anyway, how about that homework?'

'Um, what?'

Yeah, that wasn't going to go in my favour.

I then froze, stomach dropping, when I recognised a feline that was perched across from me. You see, where Arnold and I stood, waiting for the bus, across from us was a swing set. It had been a frequent escape for me when Bob became too unbearable. I would find myself here, sitting on the swings, and staring up at the skies.

Now though, in that spot, was Nel.

She stood at the swing set, across the road, and had her violet eyes trained on me.

Nel! My jaw dropped. What're you doing?!

I glanced to my side to make sure that Arnold hadn't noticed the cat from across the road. But thankfully, he still hadn't looked up. I released a small breath. Depending on how nosey he was, a purple–eyed cat might cause him confusion which would lead to questions. And questions would lead to observations; if Nel insisted on following me around, he would have more questions which could lead him down a rabbit hole that would eventually culminate in him—

Calm down, Helga, the boy hasn't even noticed you.

I made a face.

Really Helga, isn't it obvious? I turned back to her narrowed gaze and had to force myself not to roll my eyes. God, even with telepathy, her tone was still grating. I'm watching over you.

Right. Well, in her brain, I'm sure that made sense. But out here, in the real world, it fell apart like soggy newspaper.

I scrunched my face. Watching over me? Why?

She rolled her eyes as if the answer were obvious.

I pressed my lips together. Well, excuse me for not having a clue as to how the alien cat functioned.

Because, as your mentor, it is my job to make sure that nothing happens to you.

I rose a brow.

You? Protect me? Excuse me, but who, out of the two of us, delivered a major smackdown last night? I crossed my arms over my chest. What're you gonna do, scratch anyone you don't like the look of? Gosh, I feel so safe.

And then, she gave me a look. I'm sure it was meant to be intimidating. But here's the thing, given that this cat just claimed to want to look over me, while insulting me, her reaction to this all being a measly little look? The one that I could easily imagine coming from a grandparent, when you said something too vulgar. I laughed. I couldn't help it. This entire situation was so ridiculous, right down to this cat displaying such human qualities. She responded by sticking her nose in the air and looking away with a hmp! which only made me laugh harder.

Oh, what a do—

"Helga?"

I froze and my stomach squirmed. His voice was so warm and closer than what I remembered.

Don't look at him, don't look at him, don't—

I looked at him.

Darn it.

And found he was utterly captivating, with those vivid, glimmering eyes. They shone like a spring morning and when he smiled, it went straight through my chest.

"I didn't notice you there," he said.

I marvelled at how different he seemed; yesterday, it was apparent how uncomfortable I had made him. He would shuffle his weight and look away from me if he wasn't ignoring my presence altogether. But now, he seemed quite comfortable with meeting my eye. He even was throwing in a smile, for good measure.

It made me wonder and when I wondered, I spaced. It was embarrassing, how quickly my thoughts went from 'he must be up to something, he keeps looking at me' to 'hey wow, the way he looks is . . . he's got the prettiest eyes'. I hated it. Trust him to keep me acting like this. Even after becoming a superhero last night, Arnold still made me act like a dumb, love–struck teenage girl (yes, I was perfectly aware that I am, in fact, a teenager and a female, however that's beside the point).

Criminy Helga, you bloody idiot—stop looking at him!

"Well, of course you didn't, football head," I snapped and held onto my bag straps as I glanced away. Thankfully, Nel had since scrammed, so I didn't have to worry about him seeing her. "You were too busy with your dumb phone."

Shit, had that come out aggressive? That totally sounded aggressive. I hadn't meant to sound like a jealous girlfriend, bitter that her boyfriend wasn't giving her attention. I had meant it in a . . . well, I don't know, but not like that!

Christ, what if I did sound jealous? What if he thought I was super clingy and annoying? What if he saw through my lies and looked at me like I was a dumb, pathetic girl with a monster crush?

Well, what else, Helga—he'd be creeped out. Mega creeped out. He'd point at me, be all like, "Ew, you disgusting freak!" then run away and never talk to me and tell everyone else how crazy–obsessed I was with him and they'd all be disgusted and Phoebe would stop being my friend, then my life would be over and I'd have to quit being a superhero, then the Mutants would take over, and everyone would die, but then they'd hear about my crush and make a song about it and it would spread across the galaxy and—

"Right, sorry," Arnold chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. I blinked, coming back to earth. "I was just watching this video Gerald sent me last night and—"

"Whoa, football head, I don't remember asking for your life's story."

Arnold stopped, his eyes widening like the thought had genuinely not occurred to him. That I didn't want to hear from him, that is. Or about whatever it is that he was going to tell me. He pursed his lips together and lowered his gaze to his phone with a slight nod.

I cringed. Christ, I was the world's biggest asshole. Way to go Helga, now he'll surely like you. Not that I had even planned on accomplishing that. I just didn't want him to pick up on the mental detour that I was taking. Can't have him falling down the asking questions rabbit hole. Cause, you know, a big part about being a superhero was keeping it a secret.

Still, curiosity scratched at my mind.

"Uh, what did Gerald send you though?"

Of course, that small bit of curiosity was nothing compared to the overwhelming dread sitting in my chest. I wasn't psychic but I could wager a pretty hefty bet on what it was that had Arnold so captivated with his phone.

His face snapped up and he suddenly looked like a kid on Christmas. I clamped my mouth shut. He was smiling at me and criminy, was it beautiful.

I looked away when I became aware that my cheeks had become hot.

Arnold, as usual, didn't realise the effect that he had on me. Or he just didn't care.

"Gerald managed to get footage from last night," he gushed and stepped closer. "It's of that girl and the monster—can you believe it?!"

Yep, I was right.

Arnold had a video of me.

I gulped, ready to chuck my bag and run for the hills (or wherever it was that Nel had run to). I barely could handle talking to Arnold on the regular (not that it happened frequently). Let alone about women with supernatural abilities that could take down aliens twice her size. Worse, women who just last night, realised that they had powers that made them fast enough to race across cities in minutes, durable enough to land on their feet from a three storey drop and strong enough to yank sinks apart when they weren't paying attention. And they just so happened to discover all of this from a cat that approached them last night, speaking in a British accent.

Women like me.

I mean, I was a masterful liar and all, but when it came to Arnold, Pinocchio woulda made a better liar then me.

Still, there was a part of me—an evil part—that wondered what he thought about me—I mean, Blue Jay. This situation was so weird, it was something I'd expect to read in a comic book, or a—

Wait.

When had Arnold's face gotten so close?

At some point, during my mental escapade, Arnold had shifted his phone under my nose so I could watch the video. But he had also moved in closer which left his face inches from mine. I gulped and felt my entire body burst into flames. I wasn't a person who enjoyed standing close to others, but right now, I couldn't find that usual defensiveness.

Neither of us were touching, but I could feel his body heat along my cheek. The scent from his skin scattered across my face—musk. Wood. Vanilla. What body wash did he use? It was delicious. My gaze combed across his features. His eyes were locked on the screen and his lips had formed into a big dopey smile. My stomach did another flip. Gosh, he was just so handsome.

I turned my attention back to the phone.

The footage was shaky. You could hear a heavy breathing from the person filming the scene and the collective gasps and chatter from around them. It was nighttime and despite the streetlights, the shadows were thick and rolled across the ground like ink.

But still, through it all, you could see . . . her.

She was bright like lightning. Snow against the darkness. Her fists were tight, expression hard. My stomach curled. It was so different watching from a perspective that wasn't your own. You couldn't see the panic or experience the fear. Instead, you only saw a determined, young woman, set on taking this creature down.

The wind picked up and swept her hair over her shoulders. Her eyes burned. The fire in my cheeks cooled when she launched the knife. In my head, it had gone for hours. I could still remember how my pulse had throbbed in my ears as I waited for everything to go wrong. But in reality, it had all happened in seconds. I grimaced. The Mutant howled when the knife lodged into its flesh, and suddenly all I could see was my nightmare.

"I know," Arnold said and when I looked, he was already watching me. His eyes were pressed with concern, soft–looking, as he paused the video. His gaze went over my face, finding something that made his lips move to the side before he shoved his phone into his pocket. "It's a little graphic, huh?"

He had misunderstood my reaction, but I couldn't correct his assumption. I wasn't about to go around telling everyone that I was the girl from last night.

All I could manage was a short and simple, "Wow."

What else could I say? I had just witness myself killing a living thing. I knew that I should feel proud, I had saved someone in doing it. And it was a Mutant, it wanted to kill me. But I couldn't stop the guilt. At what I had done, what that made me. I crossed my arms over my chest. I still wasn't sure how to feel about it.

"She's amazing, isn't she?" Arnold said and when I looked, he was already smiling. It made the edges of his eyes crinkle.

I wanted to sigh.

Arnold thought I was speechless because of Blue Jay. Not because I'd . . . done that.

To be fair, this whole thing was bizarre. Downright fictional. Not only were aliens real, but apparently, so were superheroes. I should be happy that Arnold was choosing to focus on her and not—

Wait a minute.

I looked at him—really looked at him—and recognised something.

"Um, football head," I said, cheeks already beginning to turn warm. "What do you actually think of this girl?"

It was not a smart choice to ask this. Because once I asked, then I would receive my answer. And depending on that answer, that could result in something either really okay, or really, really bad.

And that's exactly what happened.

"What do you mean?" he asked, cheeks dark, as he suddenly became unable to look me in the face.

The bad thing, that is.

Oh.

Oh, crud.

"Uh, not that you're not justified or anything, because, um, wow, that was totally neat and awesome and—geeze, who woulda thought? Real life superhero and all, but um—" I cringed. Arnold had begun looking at me strangely. "Well, you're only focusing on her and not, well, whatever that is and . . . you seem to kinda admire her . . ."

I trailed off because when I said those words, they flipped a switch. I suddenly could hear my words, imagine my face, from another perspective. Criminy, how I must have sounded. I was trying so hard to be casual, to be a cool girl who wasn't really bothered. But it didn't matter how I tried dressing it up. It was obvious what I was asking: do you have a crush on this girl?

And that wasn't a cool, casual thing to ask.

"I, uh, yeah, I guess that's right," he cast his gaze to the park across from us. His eyes softened and the corners of his mouth lifted. "I don't really . . . know what happened last night—no one does, despite what they say—but whatever it was . . . she saved us. She—Blue Jay—she protected us against that thing—whatever it was. And I . . . it's hard not to admire that, y'know?"

I could tell you the moment that it was all over.

It wasn't when he said those words, or even when his cheeks began turning red. It wasn't his voice softening into a warm, pleasant sound. Not even the fact that he had become so enamoured with watching his video, that he didn't hear anything around him unless it was blaring to get his attention. It was his eyes—they were soft, gentle. They had taken on that same look that he got whenever he watched Lila in the mornings. Like he was looking up at her, even when he towered over her. Like he was ready to dedicate so much of his time and life to making her smile. The tenderness that he felt became so strong that when his voice wrapped around her name, it pushed her so high, that she became his oath.

He looked at her like he looked at Lila, the girl he had a crush on.

Which meant that Arnold had a crush on Blue Jay.

Arnold had a crush on . . . me.

My entire body flushed red—my cheeks, my face and my . . . knees? How the hell were my knees blushing? I shook my face. No, that didn't matter. I didn't care. All that I had room in my head was that realisation: that Arnold . . . had a thing for me.

He froze like I had said his name. His eyes darted across my face and his smile dropped. I tried not to be sour about that. He looked like he had realised who he was talking to . . . and regretted it.

"I–I mean, n–not that I, well, y–yeah . . ." he trailed off, nudging his toe against the pavement. His Adam's apple bobbed, and his gaze became shy. It dropped and scattered across the ground, and he wrapped his hands around his bag straps.

I stared at him, feeling like I was experiencing yesterday all over again. Where, I was making him so uncomfortable that he could barely look me in the face. That he was too polite to tell me that he hated talking to me, that he would rather be anywhere else if it didn't have me in it. And I realised that nothing had changed—not to him anyway. I was still Helga Pataki to him, and I always would be. The feelings that he had for Blue Jay were directed at an entirely different person. A person who was beautiful, tall and kind—his type. He had never been into girls like me; girls who weren't smiling even on our best days; who only talked when it was with their fists; who preferred to stay in the shadows. He wanted a girl from the sunshine.

AKA, not me.

I felt myself mirroring his actions, turning away so I could stare across the park.

It became silent as we waited for the bus.

The pressure was back, rolling in my throat. I realised that it was words, everything that I wanted to say to him. Arnold, I wanted to say. It's me, Arnold! Your dream girl! The one that makes you so excited that you can't look away from your phone! The one so dazzling that you look at her like you look at Lila! The one who makes you forget about the aliens, because she makes you feel so much good. I can be different!

He was watching me.

I bit my lip and ignored him.

He didn't like me. It was a good reminder; I wasn't the one for him. I had never been the one for him. I needed to get my head out of the clouds. I was being ridiculous, entertaining a thought that I had abandoned long ago.

Besides, I reminded myself. I had much bigger issues then a boy liking me. My life was about to change in more ways than one and I needed to prepare myself for it.

I nodded to myself, deciding that it didn't matter about his feelings for Blue Jay because, as far as he was concerned, we were different people. There were no similarities.

It was a dizzying thought though; that not only was Little Miss Perfect my rival, but somehow, I was.

. . . which just made everything really fucking complex.

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The bus became stuffed with talk of the mysterious Blue Jay and her epic battle last night.

People were shouting across the bus, overhearing discussions about her, and chiming in to share their own views. Gerald had been in the middle of a debate with a dark–haired kid, when Arnold and I had gotten on. He had looked right past me to his best friend and a smile lit his face. He moved aside his stuff and the boys did their lame handshake before diving into their own conversation about it all.

Rolling my eyes, I settled into a seat that was far away from them.

Pressing my back against the window, I wrapped one hand around the seat bar and dug through my bag for my headphones, when I heard the conversations.

"—where do you think she came from—"

"—maybe she's an alien—"

"—I heard she's from the government—"

"—do you think that she can fly—"

I tightened my hold.

"—maybe she's a part of the Avengers—"

"—Serena, the Avengers are fictional—"

"—you don't know that, Molly—"

"—what was that thing she was fighting—"

I yanked my hand away with a small yelp. I hadn't realised that I had been applying strength that increased with every theory, every word that had been thrown around. The metal had caved from beneath my fingers and left behind a rather crude–looking mould. I blushed, feeling like everyone was staring at me, even though a small part of me registered that the opposite was true. I moved before I could think too deeply about it, heart hammering in my throat. I took the first spot that I noticed was empty. Slamming myself down so my back was against the window, I held a hand over my heart. It was pumping wildly. Because, oh my god, that had been close. I needed to be more wary of my actions; I hadn't even noticed that the bar had been shifting beneath my hand. I just needed to lose control at the wrong time and—

Green eyes found mine.

I stopped and realised where I was sat.

Oh, no.

I had been so hasty in trying to make my escape that I hadn't actually registered where the spare spot that I took was. Two rows behind from them. Gerald was rambling, having not noticed anything, but he had since shifted his position. He sat in his original seat, but Arnold had apparently switched, moving to the seat behind where he could sit with—ugh—Lila.

I forced my hands into my lap. I didn't want anymore incidents. But come on, since when had she been here? I mustn't have noticed that we had already stopped—which was ironic, considering how much better my senses had become since last night. I wanted to look away because I didn't need for the knife to keep hammering into my chest. But I couldn't wash away how close that they sat, how there was a natural forwardness that oozed from Arnold's body. She seemed oblivious and listened to Gerald babble, nodding along as she soaked up his words. I couldn't believe her, having Hillwood's Adonis in the palm of her hand, and she didn't even seem interested . . .

Hillwood's Adonis who was looking at me.

I froze, finding that yes, that was true—Arnold's eyes . . . they were on me. I didn't know why, and I didn't know when. But his bright eyes were there, pinning me in my spot, and the space between his brows was furrowing. I smushed my bag to my chest, feeling self–conscious. Had he seen what had happened? I forced my eyes to stay away from the crushed seat bar. I didn't want to unintentionally drag his attention there, in case he hadn't actually noticed. But why else would he be looking in my direction?

I glanced up again to find that his gaze had turned back to his conversation with Gerald and Lila. The grip around my bag tightened. Lila. It was always her.

"So, where do you think she came from, Gerald?"

Gerald smirked, raising his chin.

"I'm so glad you asked, Arnold," he said. I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. "There are multiple theories as to where she actually came from. Personally, I believe that she and that monster are both experiments from the illuminati."

My jaw dropped. What?

Lila voiced my thoughts. "What?"

"Think about it!" Gerald burst and held up a finger as his eyes danced between them. "We all know how the illuminati are and their thirst for power—who's to say they haven't been doin' a little experimenting to make the perfect weapon? That monster thing is an earlier version, where it was all big and scary and ugly and stuff, but what's more scary then a big, bad monster that could tear your apart? A sexy girl!"

. . . I honestly didn't know how to respond to that. There was so much in his statement, that I couldn't focus on only one section. I knew, however, that I was blushing.

"Gerald—"

"No, no—hear me out!" he continued. "She can do all that and a bag of chips, but she was hot while doing it! Do you know how dangerous that could be? A hot, sexy weapon? I mean, we've all seen Beyoncé's Run the World music video, right? The 'My persuasion can build nations' part? What if they took that literally? And made her sexy as a defence, so while you're distracted by her sexiness, she can sneak up and kill you! It could totally happen! And did you see her strength? She's not normal."

Yeah, no shit, dumbass.

Lila was shaking her head.

"Gerald," she sighed and crossed her arms. "I think that you have been watching ever too many conspiracy theory videos . . . and Beyoncé."

Gerald shot her a dirty look. "You can never watch too much Beyoncé."

Okay, he had her there.

"How would they have made her so fast then?" Arnold questioned, stroking his chin. "And strong?"

For the second time, my jaw dropped. Please tell me that Arnold did not believe this.

"Easy," Gerald looked pleased that someone was taking his theory seriously. He shifted so he could turn his attention onto him, which Lila scoffed at. Gerald ignored her. "Genetic engineering, man."

"I find that ever so hard to believe," Lila remarked. "I mean, last time I checked genetic engineering in humans was illegal, let alone impossible."

"Ah! But that, my dear friend," Gerald gave her a wink. She rose a brow, "is what they want you to think! C'mon, the illuminati's always starting shit. She's not an alien, but an experiment from the illuminati sent to fix their mistake of the previous experiment."

"Well, what about her powers, then? How would you explain that? Or is that also the result of genetic engineering?"

I blinked when three pairs of eyes swivelled around to stare at me. What the hell? Why were they staring at me like that?

Then, I realised that the voice that had been poking holes in Gerald's theories had been mine.

And somehow, my mouth was still going, "I mean, I'm not exactly sure what the extent of genetic engineering would be, but I'm pretty sure throwing up magical shields is not one of the perks that come with it. Strength and speed? Sure. But magic? Absolutely not."

Lila and Arnold stared at me—gaping. I wanted to be angry because I hated when people did that—look at me—but I couldn't blame them. I hadn't gone out of my way to talk to them since we were in Mr. Simmon's class. I hid behind walls to kept us separated. Even when we stood in the same room, we were on different planets. Who knew that thing that would disintegrate all that, was a mysterious superhero who looked like she had fallen right out of a comic book?

Although, to be fair, stranger things had happened.

To me, at least.

Gerald narrowed his eyes.

"Well, what do you know about genetic engineering, then?" he practically sneered.

Arnold gave him a disapproving frown which he ignored. Lila, on the other hand, kept her eyes on me, a slightly impressed look on her face.

"Uh, apparently more then you, Tall Hair Boy," I responded. "Genetic engineering enhances human capabilities; it doesn't create new ones."

There was a beat of silence, and Arnold slowly turned back to me with an indecipherable look on his face.

It made me flush and it slowly sunk in that somehow, I had entered a debate with Gerald Johansson about a superhero's origins.

About my origins.

Yeah, way to go, Helga. You wanna get people off your back and stop them from asking questions? Keep answering their questions, I'm sure it'll work out in your favour.

Typically, I kept to myself when I was on the bus. I had my hoodie drawn up and my earbuds in. It was a look that screamed, Stop! Turn around, I am not interested in talking to you. But as a heat crawled across my features, I became aware that my hoodie was no longer drawn. It had fallen in my mission to escape from my earlier seat so now, as I sat there behind Arnold, sunlight spilled into my eyes and hair.

Fuck, no wonder they were looking at me like that. You could tell from a mile away that I was blushing.

Lila pressed her hands to her mouth as soft pearls of laughter escaped her lips. The sound made me pause as a nervousness stirred in my chest. Was she laughing at my blushing?

"She has a fair point, Gerald," she admitted and flashed me an approving grin. "Your theory does have ever so many holes in it."

Oh.

Gerald's jaw went slack and his cheeks became a rosy pink. "You're taking her side?"

"There aren't any sides, Gerald," Arnold tried interjecting but was ignored.

"Why not?" Lila shrugged. "She raises a fair point. Besides, if this Blue Jay was sent from the illuminati, where is her gun? She only had a knife, from what I could see. No gun. I sincerely doubt that they would send her to take down that creature without a gun but a knife. If it was the illuminati, that is."

Yeah, the illuminati wasn't stupid enough to send Blue Jay into battle without a gun. Nel, on the other hand—

"Yeah?" Gerald narrowed his eyes at us both and crossed his arms. "Then where do you think she came from, if not from the illuminati then?"

Well, done Helga. You couldn't have kept your big mouth shut. Nooo, that would've been too easy.

"Aren't we being a bit hasty in trying to figure out where she came from?" Lila questioned with a slight frown. "I mean, we've only seen her once, yet there's an ungodly amount of theories about her—that she's a failed experiment, a weapon, an alien, even a ghost. I think that we are focusing far too much on the questions and intricate backstories instead of what matters—she saved us last night. From whatever that thing had been. Whatever she is, a lot more people would have been rushed to the hospital if she didn't show up. We should be showing more gratitude, rather than hounding her for answers."

Lila, I could kiss you.

Clearing my throat, I nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, ditto. Who the hell cares where she came from? Her actions speak louder, in my opinion."

And my opinion was obviously the superior.

The corners of Lila's mouth lifted into a slow grin.

"Besides," she continued. "I would much rather find out about that thing she was fighting. Seems positively frightening."

Never mind, Lila.

Frowning, Gerald opened his mouth to continue the debate when Arnold cleared his throat.

"So Gerald," he said a little loudly. "What do you think of Blue Jay, then? As a person, I mean."

Gerald paused.

"Well," he rested his chin between his thumb and index finger, looking up in thought. "She is a babe."

Three jaws dropped in unison.

And Gerald became the victim to three objections.

"—are you serious—"

"—this again—"

"—she saved us—"

"—and all you can think about is that she's hot—"

"—so degrading—"

"Alright, alright!" Gerald held up his hands to silence our protests. "Okay, fair enough. But c'mon, can you blame me? Did you see what she was wearing? Or, more specifically, the lack of it?"

He waggled his eyebrows and for the hundredth time that day, blood rushed to my face. It was bad enough that I had to fight in that skimpy stuff, I didn't need Gerald pointing it out to me.

"Not really," Lila admitted with a shrug. "I was ever so distracted by the monster twice her size with horns coming from its head."

Gerald shot her a look then turned to Arnold. "C'mon buddy, I can't be the only one who noticed! You had to have looked!"

Lila and I both raised our eyebrows at Arnold and his cheeks glowed from our accusatory glares. His Adam apple bobbed as he averted his gaze to his folded hands.

"Uh, well, it's not like I didn't notice, per say . . ." his eyes darted between Lila and I before going back to his lap. "She was definitely beautiful, sure. I just wasn't focused primarily on that."

Criminy.

I reminded myself that it wasn't me that he was talking about. That he had a face in his mind and it wasn't mine. But christ, was it hard not to take those words personally. To not imagine that he secretly meant them for me, rather than my alter ego. It felt like someone had set fireworks off in my chest. I ducked my face and scratched at my cheek in an attempt to hide the redness. I was aware of how pathetic I was acting, but I couldn't help it. He still meant his words for a version of me, just not me m—

Someone was watching me.

Frowning, I looked up to Lila's gaze.

She had a slightly narrowed look on her face. The space between her brows was furrowed and her face was slightly tilted. She was confused as to why I was reacting and why I was blushing when Arnold had been talking about someone else.

A good reminder that no one would ever mistake me for Blue Jay.

Flushing, I turned away to glower out the window. Of course, it would be Lila of all people who would catch me acting like that.

Lila stayed watching me. I could see her reflection in the glass. Her eyebrow had lifted. I was about to tell her to mind her own when I found my attention pulled back to the boys.

"Ooh, looks like our wittle baby Arnold did notice some things about her as well," Gerald sung teasingly.

Gerald had reached over the seat bar to send a playful punch to Arnold's shoulder. He had a sly grin on his face which grew when Arnold's cheeks burned darker. I ducked my face as Gerald continued teasing Arnold. The poor boy's cheeks had become so red that his face resembled a tomato . . . or a red banana.

"Helga?"

I glanced up into Lila's confused stare. She was examining my own red cheeks and panicked face. I wanted to pull my hoodie onto my face to cover the redness, but the damage had already been done. And because she had to speak so loudly, the boys had paused in their teasing to look at me.

"Are you alright?" she asked, oblivious. "You look ever so red."

Lila, I hate you.

My heart throbbed underneath Arnold's gaze.

Gulping, I turned away. "Uh, y–y–yeah, of c–course, I'm fine—why the hell wouldn't I be?"

Mentally, I kicked myself. If earlier, my behaviour hadn't been enough to convince them that something was most definitely not alright, then my stammering surely was. I wrapped my hands around my bag. Where were my lying skills? I was supposed to be good at this.

I made everything worse for myself when I glanced up and met Arnold's confused frown.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked.

Oh my God, could he be anymore of a dunce? What was I supposed to say? Oh, for the most part. I was just approached last night by a talking black cat who turned me into the superhero that you're all sitting here gossiping about and that Gerald thinks is a conspiracy to take down governments through being sexy and now I'm the only thing preventing an apocalypse and oh yeah, I'm still so in love with you after all these years, did you wanna grab some fries?

I didn't see that working out in my favour.

But before I could scramble together another flimsy response, something over his shoulders caught my eye.

Hallelujah!

I sat up straight. "O–Oh, lookie there! Would you look at that? We're here!"

Everyone's eyes followed where I was pointing over their shoulders and out the windows, but before they could say anything, I was leaping to my feet and hightailing it outta there. The doors had just shuttered open when I basically tore through them to put as much distance between myself and the bus as possible.

And yet, despite it all, I could still hear Gerald whistling.

"Damn, she moves fast."

---

The talk of Blue Jay on the bus had been a buzz in comparison to the hallways, where it felt like an outright roar.

The minute that I stepped through the doors, I was hit with a multitude of voices that were so thick, it was like walking into a wall. They were recounting last night's events then tossing around questions, re–enactments and elaborate backstories. I frowned when, on more than one occasion, I heard comparisons to Wonder Woman.

And then a yawn escaped me.

Fuck, I was tired.

That dumb cat had taken it upon herself to wake me up by pouncing onto my face. She had brushed off my annoyance and stated that it could have been worse—she could have used her claws instead. And then, she had the nerve to lecture me about my sleeping habits—apparently, if I went to sleep earlier then I wouldn't spend so much time being grouchy.

If that wasn't the pot calling the kettle black.

I wouldn't even be in this situation if it wasn't for her.

She had then proceeded to showcase her wonderful, sunshine of a personality by nitpicking everything and anything that she could think of.

Particularly, my hoodie.

For whatever reason, Nel had decided that my black hoodie was Public Enemy 1#.

I clenched my jaw at the memory. Dumb idiot cat . . .

---

"Helga, is that hoodie apart of your uniform?"

"Huh?"

Looking away from my reflection, I shot Nel a look over my shoulder. She had perched herself on the windowsill on the right side of my room. She had complained about that earlier as well, muttering about the clothes that covered the floors and the vanity that was full of junk that I didn't even recognise anymore. The bed was distorted, the blankets having been tossed aside in my haste to get up, and pillows were on the floor.

Nel was eyeing my hoodie which popped out from the collar of my blazer.

"Uh, why does it matter?"

She wrinkled her nose. "It just looks, well, sloppy, doesn't it?"

Oh, brother.

Rolling my eyes, I turned back to the mirror above my vanity. It was large and white, a curvy design that made me feel like a Princess getting ready for her photoshoot. It had been Olga's until she fell in love with a vanity that was sleeker and darker, with lights and everything. I hadn't particularly been interested in owning my own vanity but hey, it was a place I could make more room to stuff things into the drawers, so why not?

I grabbed my hairbrush and tugged it through my strands to tame it into its usual style.

"Look, Nel, you may be my—erm—mentor or whatever—" I grimaced when I yanked a sensitive spot. "—but you are most certainly not my stylist. Got it?"

Especially not after what I had to wear last night.

"I'm not your maid either, Helga," she frowned. "You should be able to get out of bed without me—you're sixteen after all." I rolled my eyes. "And stop rolling your eyes. It's rude."

"Oh, please," I scoffed and tossed my brush away to look at Nel in the reflection. "Like you haven't rolled your eyes at least twenty times this hour alone."

"Well, one can hardly blame me," she responded. "When half the things that come out of your mouth are truly imprudent."

I gritted my teeth, seriously fighting the urge to smack this stupid cat. Why had I agreed to become a Guardian again?

The look on my face must've expressed how I felt because without another word, Nel sniffed and turned away. My jaw dropped, was she serious? And I was the immature one?

I turned back to my reflection, scowling.

My face wasn't anything like Blue Jay. It wasn't made up or good looking or well–shaped. Her hair was a beaming shade of blonde that looked like it had been collected from the skies. She had high and dark eyebrows whereas, mine were so thick that I had to pluck them once a week. Her skin was smooth and flawless, looking like satin, and mine was inhabited by tiny spots. She had plump lips that were like pillows, whereas my top lip was too big and made me conscious of my smile. I wasn't a make up girl, but even if I were, I would stay away from lipstick, since it would only highlight the unevenness.

I lowered my gaze to the pin on my desk.

Blue Jay didn't have zits. She didn't have uneven skin, or odd shaped lips, or eyebrows so expressive, that it made me feel like a guy. She was perfect, without even trying.

I pulled my hair into its two ponytails and stuffed my pin into my pocket. I wished I could cover up the patches on my face with concealer, but I was already using so much to cover the bags under my eyes. The tube wasn't big enough to begin with and I was already running out. I had to save it for urgent situations.

Turning back around to Nel, I tugged on the hem of my blazer to straighten out any wrinkles then pushed back my shoulders. Apparently, she had gotten over her hissy fit as she was already watching me.

I forced a smile. "So, how do I look?"

She stared, unimpressed.

"Those rings underneath your eyes are big enough to rival those of Saturn," she then paused. "Oh, and also like you're about to mug me."

I threw my hands to my sides. "Would you quit it about the hoodie?!"

Snatching the bag from my bed, I marched and then slammed the door behind me. I huffed. Like Nel had any right to lecture me on what I was wearing. So what if I looked a little sketch? I happen to like my hoodie, thank you very much.

I had some time to spare, so I didn't hurry down the stairs. I was still pretty drowsy from having a cat pounce onto my face at six in the morning. But then, I heard chatter coming from downstairs and quirked a brow. It was never loud in the morning. Normally, Miriam was passed out and Bob had already left for work. Even with Olga back, the mornings weren't particularly rowdy.

I paused when I reached the living room. Bob was here. I blinked. He was crouched in front of the TV. He had his back to me, so he didn't notice that I was even there (not that looking at me had done much before). But he was flicking through the channels and muttering to himself.

I caught a few words. "Criminy . . . reporters these days . . . only celebrities gettin' knocked up . . ."

I drew my brows together before deciding that I didn't care and headed for the kitchen—where most of the noise was coming from.

I stopped when I entered, feeling my jaw drop, and then blinked a few times. But it all remained. The scene, that is. Miriam was not, for one, passed out. No, she was actually—I kid you not—cooking.

I blinked. Then rubbed my eyes. Then blinked again.

She hadn't noticed me as she was leaning over the stove. I couldn't see what it was that she was cooking (or attempting to cook. This was still Miriam), but the sizzling and spits and scents confirmed it to be bacon.

My stomach growled as I inhaled the scent. I surprised myself by actually wanting to stay back for breakfast. But I knew that likely, Miriam would just burn it. She wasn't even paying attention to the food. She was watching Olga, who was practically spinning around the kitchen like she was a ballerina.

Olga's hair was pulled from her bare face. She had a wide grin as she read over the newspaper that rustled in her hands. Excitement was twinkling in her gaze, and I realised that I hadn't actually seen her look like that for a while.

"A–Annd then w–what happened?" Miriam stuttered, eyes wide.

Olga chuckled and turned back to the current page.

"Well, let's see— 'Witnesses state that the mysterious woman identified herself as Blue Jay, but left without answering further questions, making a hasty exit into the night'—Ooh, how mysterious!"

The realisation was a fist to the face. I knew what they were acting so weird about—it was me.

"I–It s–s–sounds so unbelievable," Miriam said and cupped her face. "Liike one of those m–m–movies B love so much."

On second thoughts, I didn't need lunch today. Nel would bite my head off for skipping a meal, but I could pull through for today. Because to be honest, I did not want to hear about last night. I was already slowly coming around to accepting what had happened. I didn't want to add someone else's judgements on top of everything and ruin the illusion of safety that I had made for myself. And I most certainly didn't need to hear it from the two brainless—

"Oh, baby sis, what a surprise!" I stopped and mentally berated my so–called luck. "You got up without me!"

Act normal, Helga, I told myself. Do what you normally would.

I schooled my expression into that familiar formation that made me feel like a wall, where nothing could get in and nothing could get out, and turned around. They were already watching me.

"It's not like I'm incapable of functioning without you," I told her and crossed my arms. "What're you two chuckleheads losin' your marbles over anyway?"

Of course, anyone with a brain cell could figure out what they were talking about.

Olga's eyes practically popped out from their sockets as her smile widened. The paper crinkled between her fingers as she raced to my side.

"Why, little sis!" she shoved the paper under my nose in a wild gesture. "Haven't you heard? Well, I guess you wouldn't since you spent the entire night in your room, but there was some type of attack last night! And some guy was saved by a real–life superhero! Can you believe it?! A female superhero, at that!"

The words on the page trembled from how hard she was shaking. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed the paper from her hands so I could actually read the title.

Hillwood's Very Own Wonder Woman?!

I blinked. Wonder Woman?

Then, I scowled. Oh, come on, WonderWoman? Why Wonder Woman? I don't even like Wonder Woman! I mean, sure, our armour—if you could even call it that—were kinda similar looking—thanks Nel, you little rat—but other than that, we looked nothing alike. Why couldn't I be Superman? Or Batman? That would've been so cool, he was so badass. Instead, I get some sissy, bikini–wearing Princess, who's only fans were teenaged boys' way too aware of how little she wore.

Imagine that!

Pushing my lips together, I shoved the paper into Olga's chest. She slightly stumbled and raised her eyebrows at my reaction.

Unbothered, I held out my palm. "Did you make lunch for me or not?"

I honestly didn't have any time for this. The bus was going to get here soon and I still hadn't even left the house. And I really didn't want to have to go chasing it down the street today.

My question had been reasonable, but Olga reacted like I had just murdered a puppy.

Her jaw dropped and her hands rushed to cover her mouth. "Why Helga, you cannot be serious!"

I rose my brow. "What?"

"Baby sis!" Olga clutched my shoulders and dragged me close enough that I couldn't look away from her eyes. "Aren't you even a little curious about what happened last night?"

And you wanna know something? I wasn't even lying when I responded with a, "No."

I had gotten enough answers last night.

Olga's forehead crumbled as she looked at me like she was disappointed.

I shoved her away. "Alright, back it up, Olga! Criminy, I'm trying to breathe here!"

"Helga, honey," Miriam then stepped forward. She was clutching her spatula like she was approaching a ghost that she was seeking out to whack. "Last night, t–there was a–a—"

"I know what happened, Miriam," I interrupted her and put my hands on my hips. "I'm aware of the attack, I just don't care."

Miriam and Olga stared.

"Don't care?!" They repeated, looking equally horrified.

Well, shit.

That hadn't been the right response.

"Yeah," I nodded. "Whatever happens out there is where it belongs. It has nothing to do with me. Now, I'm on my way to go to school, so I need lunch. Did you make it Olga, or am I making it myself?"

They stared at me, looking like they wanted to say something, when—

"Criminy—finally!"

Bob suddenly shouted from the living room, so loud and sudden that we all turned to the cheering man. He pumped his fist in the air before throwing himself backwards into his armchair. His eyes were glued to the two news anchors.

I rose a brow. Since when was Bob excited to watch the news? I had just assumed he was excited to watch another commercial for his business.

Apparently not.

Groaning, I pinched my nose. Had I entered some weird dimension? Where cats could talk, aliens invaded, and Bob actually wanted to watch the news? He hated the news almost as much as he hated soap operas. Sure, he watched them, but only to keep complaining about them.

Miriam set the spatula down on the bench and crossed the kitchen to the living room.

"What'd you find, B?" she asked as she stopped next to his chair.

"Ooh, daddy, daddy!" Olga's shoulder rammed into mine as she followed Miriam's footsteps. She rushed and came to a stop on his unoccupied side. "Did you get it?!"

I rolled my eyes and turned around to switch the stove off. This was why Miriam wasn't allowed to cook anymore.

"Miriam, Olga—" Bob smirked as he addressed his family. "I just managed to find a half decent report on that hubbub last night."

My heart stopped and I whirled around. What'd he say?

Olga let loose an excited squeal.

"Oh, Daddy, you're an absolute genius!" she threw her arms around his neck, earning a small chuckle from him. "Now we'll get to see her in action!"

What an asskisser, I thought with a roll of my eyes.

Wait a minute—

That last part hit me. See her in action?

That wasn't good news. I mean, us Pataki's weren't exactly a closely–knit family (hell, 'household' was a better descriptor), but even if we weren't close, who was to say that they wouldn't recognise me? Helga may not have looked like Blue Jay, but come on, this bunch had raised me. Surely, they would recognise something about her!

I shook my head. I had to prevent them from seeing that footage.

I placed my fists onto my hips and stepped towards the small crowd around Bob's chair.

"Hey, what about my lunch?" I demanded. "Can someone please—"

"Miriam," Bob didn't look away from the TV as he addressed the woman. "Get the girl her lunch, would'cha? Miriam—hey, Miriam!"

I almost hit myself. Oh yeah, great job, Helga.

Miriam jumped from her thoughts.

"Huh?" she blinked then glanced at me. "Oh, in a minute, honey—after this report, m'kay?"

I actually did hit myself that time.

Okay, here came Attempt 2# at keeping the Pataki's from watching the footage of me.

I marched until I was standing in front of the television and spread out my arms. Bob frowned and leaned to the side in an attempt to keep watching the report. But when he still couldn't make anything out, he scowled at me. I didn't budge. His dirty looks were a regular occurrence, so they hardly got a reaction anymore.

"Listen, little missy, I don't know what's got you so wound tight, but whatever it is you're going through, go through it somewhere else! Can't you see I'm tryna watch the report?"

"But Dad—"

"No 'but's. Now get outta the way so I can see what all the fuss is about!"

I glared at him, wanting to say so much. Like that the reason why I was so 'wound up' was the same reason that he was trying to watch the news. He probably thought it was just typical teenage girl problems, something involving boys and gossip and mean friends. I wished he was right.

I opened my mouth—

"—the attacked occurred early in the night at Tina Park," the reporter's voice was pulling my attention until I was looking over my shoulder. The news anchors—a brunette woman and redheaded man—sat at a desk as they addressed the camera. "The victim, Michael Buckly, had been walking home from his job at the Bowling Alley, when he was assaulted by an unidentified assailant."

I wanted to snort. Assailant.

Shaky footage was then shown, and I felt my body go cold. The footage was awkward–looking, but anyone with eyes could see what was happening. Could see the woman in a white leotard, combating some type of creature.

"—witnesses described the attacker as some type of wild animal," the female anchor continued over the images. "However, police have yet to confirm the creature's species."

I watched as a blue light sprang from Blue Jay's palms and formed into a protective barrier around her. The Mutant's fist collided with the wall, but she remained untouched. Her eyes were blazing. She pushed her arms forward and sent the Mutant flying. The look on Blue Jay's face was surprising. She climbed back to her feet without an ounce of fear.

I had to admit that I looked pretty badass.

The rain came down in chaotic sheets and the wind lifted my soaked hair from my shoulders. Wet light spilled across the pavement and ran up my spine like a glistening cloak. There was a sharpness to my eyes as I watched the Mutant fly. Fingers squeezed into fists. Mouth turned into a firm line. You never would have known how terrified I had been. My eyes were fire beneath water, passion in ice. Gasps and murmurs echoed from the crowd.

I actually . . . looked like a hero. Not some clueless teenager who had only learned that night about her powers. No, she was a real hero—a superhero. I couldn't help feeling a sense of pride. The way that the crowd spoke, how powerful I looked, the sudden revelation of my powers—it was hard not to feel satisfied. I mean, considering that it had been my first time fighting a Mutant and all, I think I had done pretty good.

"The victim—Mr. Buckley—was rushed to the Drymon Medical Centre immediately, after the self–identified Blue Jay exited the scene," the news anchor continued. "And despite his injuries, he remains in stable condition."

He was safe.

I let out a quiet breath.

I hadn't stayed back to learn about his fate. I had been so focused on getting there before the police arrived, that it had slipped my mind that he had even be there. I felt guilty about it when I arrived home and had even contemplated going to the hospital to check on him. Nel had talked me out of it, insisting it would be announced tomorrow. Which had been fine, if it hadn't been another factor stopping me from getting to sleep.

But at least he was alive.

"Wow," I heard Olga whisper. I looked over my shoulder to find her grasping onto the arm of Bob's chair. "Blue Jay is positively magnificent! She looked much better on camera then in the papers! Did you see her shield thingies? I wonder if she's human, or perhaps some type of extra–terrestrial . . ."

Olga continued babbling. I wasn't sure if anyone was listening. I dropped my gaze to my folded hands in my lap. Last night had been a success . . . I had actually defeated the monster. I had saved someone. Rather then being the thing tearing them down, I had been the one keeping them safe.

A smile rolled up my face. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.

"Hey, what're ya doing on the floor?" I heard Bob's voice aim itself at me. "C'mon, missy, you have school to go to!" When I looked up to meet his scowl, I realised that, at some point, I had sunk down to my knees without even realising it.

A hand suddenly appeared in front of my face.

I looked up to the arm that it belonged to and found myself staring at Olga's grin. Her eyes were warm, shimmering like the glistening surface of a pool. She looked at me like she knew what I was going through. I didn't know why. But she was offering me her support.

I was tempted to accept her hand. To take the offer she was extending towards me. But before my hand touched hers, I remembered that, after living in this house for sixteen years, I didn't need anyone's help. I had never needed their help. I had gotten by taking care of myself and I wasn't to start changing that now.

Especially not now.

Climbing to my feet, I bumped my shoulder into Olga's hand. I ignored the look on her face to brush the dust from my skirt.

"I'll make my own lunch."

Not sparing another glance, I made my way into the kitchen. The air slipped into my chest like it were water and I realised that a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. The report, I realised, had changed my opinion on being a Guardian.

Witnessing the fight from another perspective, I saw how capable I was. I had looked powerful; I had looked like a hero.

I knew that there were others. I knew that maybe, there was someone out there more capable. But Nel had sensed something in me that had made me worthy. And so far, it was only me she could sense it from. I had to make sure that I didn't give her a reason to regret it. I had to rely on my own strength and save people.

So, I would.

---

"Helga, did you hear the news?!"

A hand slammed inches from my face and I jumped back.

"Jesus, Pheebs!" I gasped, clutching my heart, and spun around. "I've told you a million times to stop doing tha—"

I blinked at her appearance.

She was leaning over her knees, chest heaving from her raspy breath. Small drops slid from her forehead and one curled around her jaw.

I rose an eyebrow. "Did you just run a marathon?"

My words seemed to shake her from her exhaustion.

Eyes shining, she grinned and rose back to her full height, which wasn't much.

"No, I just wanted to get here early to talk about, oh—not much, except possibly that little incident involving a real life superhero battling a seven foot monster."

I stared at her and could only settle for a small, "Huh."

"I mean, isn't it so exciting?" she continued, then whipped out a rolled-up magazine from who knows where. Her eyes glistened as she opened it to an article. "She completely defies all scientific explanation. It's both so frustrating and fascinating, an anomaly wrapped up in a mystery! Certainly, a time to be alive in!"

Her excitement should have made me happy—my best friend believed in me, for God's sake. But instead, my heart sunk. A groan rolled up my throat as I shut my locker, shutting my eyes in frustration.

"You too?"

I couldn't escape her name.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't mind people talking nicely about me (which hadn't happened before, but that was besides the point). But that praise was attached to Blue Jay, not Helga. The girl who dazzled crowds as light bent around her. She held her arms out and then, the danger was gone. Praise roared from her fingertips. That should have made me excited, but instead, that praise tied itself into knots and slid down my chest. It was another reminder of my duties. That if I fucked up—which I was prone to doing—then the whole world would suffer as a consequence. People already had their expectations for her and the more that I learned of them, the more that I felt like I didn't fit into their vision.

That maybe this was a mistake.

"Me too?" I heard Phoebe repeat.

Eyes opening, I pressed my fingers to my forehead, twisting my lips into what I hoped was a smile.

"Yeah, cause, it's just that, well—" I struggled to find the words to explain myself without letting anything slip. The realisation that I would have to tip toe around how I felt, instead of venting to her my new burdens, was something I didn't like.

"I feel like—okay, so one night, this chick shows up and saves a guy. And, yes, it's totally impressive—I'm sure that only someone of massive intellect and strength could do what she did, but . . . I just feel like everyone's expectations are already so high, especially after only one night. What if . . . what if she can't fulfil those expectations? What if she's not nearly as good as people think she is . . . what if it was only a one time only thing?"

The words ached in my throat. I pressed my lips together. Phoebe had her face scrunched up in thought, her own lips pursed, as she contemplated her answer.

A few seconds passed before she clucked her tongue, shoving the rolled–up magazine into her bag, and faced me.

"Well, no one really knows who she is, Helga. She could be anyone. I mean, just walking down the halls I heard people calling her some type of Russian spy." She said that with a chuckle while I wrinkled my nose. There's another speculation to add to the list. "I suspect that might have come from the popularity of that superhero in the Avenger movies—Black Widow. She's Gerald's favourite." Softness welled in her eyes, but she shook her face, and the light was gone. "But anyway, the point is that whoever this girl is—she saved us last night. I'm not quite sure what it was that she fought, but it was obvious that it wouldn't come down from a regular weapon. We could've tried, but at the most, it might've slowed it down."

She paused, eyes misting over, and she slowly looked up at me.

"I'm not quite sure what it was that she fought but regardless, I am grateful that she was there. I get the feeling that it won't be the only one and that we should be preparing ourselves. But what can we do? We're a capable species, but not that quickly. In the meantime, Blue Jay is our only defence. It's a scary thought, but at the same time, it isn't totally. She's strong, capable, and different from anything I've ever seen. You look at her and you think, 'Hope'. You think, 'I'm no longer afraid because I know that this woman won't ever let anything happen to me.' You cannot help but trust her. Because she makes you feel safe."

The breath that moved through my body was light and all I could do was stare at my best friend. The weight had numbed, the pressure building up around me shattered, falling into tiny pieces that dissolved when they met the ground.

"You—" my mind was blank. "You truly believe that?"

Phoebe rose her eyebrow, slightly surprised by how eagerly I was hanging onto her words. I suppose it would be something that she would never understand. I didn't just value her opinion because she was my best friend but because she was the smartest person I knew.

Phoebe was the type of person to take apart a puzzle just to examine how its parts worked before she put it back together again. She loved analysing situations, hearing all sides of an argument, then forming her own opinion. If I knew her at all, Phoebe didn't just read that article in her pocket, she also watched as many reports or interviews before reaching that conclusion. And if that was the conclusion she had come to, maybe she was right, maybe I was overthinking it.

"Yes?" it came out as a question, and she sheepishly laughed. "I can't explain it, but there's just something about her that makes me feel . . . secure. Like there's a sense of familiarity."

My brain shot into overdrive and for a moment, all I could hear were sirens. She felt as if—fuck, did some part of Phoebe recognise Blue Jay as me?

No, of course not. She said she felt a sense of familiarity. That didn't mean she had already drawn a line of similarity between Blue Jay and me. It would be a big leap to take and, if I knew Phoebe, she wasn't one for taking leaps. Not unless she could detail every step it took for her to get there. She looked at evidence and facts, and there wasn't anything that connected me to Blue Jay.

But . . . what if there was?

The thought was like a bolt to my spine. Because I had nothing to say to that. Sure, there wasn't anything connecting me to Blue Jay now, but what about later when the fights got harder? I was lucky last night, but what if she called me up, wanting to make up our Sundae Monday, and I couldn't come because another Mutant was terrorising everyone. What if that happened so much, she began putting the pieces together?

My chest thudded. I turned my attention back to Phoebe.

"You sound like a fangirl, Pheebs," I teased, cracking a shaky smile.

She tried to look irritated but couldn't fight the smile.

"Hey!" she playfully whacked me in the ribs. It of course didn't hurt, but I pretended that it did.

"Ah, how you wound me, fiend!" Rubbing my side, I scrunched up my face in exaggerated pain. "Doth thou not realiseith how strongith thou areith?"

She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"You're such a dork, H," she muttered with a small smile.

I grinned and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. "Guess that makes me your dork, geek."

We shared a look, trying to hold back our laughter, but failed when our eyes locked. Our shoulders knocked together as we burst out cackling, ignoring the stares we received. It had been so long since Pheebs and I had been together long enough to talk, and I'd forgotten how much I'd missed this.

"Are you seriously serious, Rhonda?!"

Phoebe and I both quietened when another voice rang from the opposite side of the hallway. I rolled my eyes when I found myself staring in the cheerleader's corner again. Criminy, how did we always hear their conversations? Either we were too close, or they were way too loud.

Currently, only two of them were actually present, and the voice had come from Nathalie Nguyen, head of the squad. She was a beautiful girl with golden brown skin and long, dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She had a beauty mark beneath her right eye and long lashes that made every girl look at her with envy.

Nathalie was pressed against a locker, facing Rhonda Wellington Lloyd, who was digging through her own locker for whatever books she needed.

"Yes," Rhonda sighed and dramatically pulled out a Spanish textbook. Nathalie puffed out her cheeks, looking genuinely put off with Rhonda's stance. "I'm seriously serious, Nat. I just don't like that mockingjay girl or whoever she is."

I paused, raising a brow. Were they talking about what I think they're talking about? I turned to Phoebe for confirmation, and she simply shrugged and shook her head, communicating her own confusion.

"It's Blue Jay," Nathalie corrected, tightening her arms over her chest and rolling her eyes. "And why the hell not?"

"Well, why should I?" Rhonda shrugged and opened her textbook. She really didn't seem to care for this conversation as she quickly skimmed one of the chapters. "So, she killed that freakzoid thing last night, but did you see how? She threw a knife—big whoop. Everyone's acting like she cured cancer. The police didn't even get there until she had killed it, and their bullets are pretty harmful, who's to say they couldn't have done that? Not only that, but they definitely wouldn't have left that guy there without so much of a look his way. Did you see how quickly she left? Not a glance at anyone. At least the police stayed to make sure he was okay. She's just running around in a really tacky leotard and taking their jobs."

She snapped her book shut and faced a very taken aback Nathalie.

"And anyway, who even cares about this girl?" Rhonda gave an exasperated shrug. "Like hello, does no one else care about that ten foot monster? Everyone's focusing on this girl and barely asking questions about whatever that was. Honestly, that's where all those questions should be about—not her, but that icky . . . thing."

Whoa.

I guess the little princess could use that brain of hers. I was shocked, honestly. I thought she paid people to do her thinking for her.

But as much as I disliked her, Rhonda had a point. I hadn't shown concern for anyone else. I hadn't stayed back to check on anyone else. I had announced my name and then left. The man I had sought to protect, I had left him there, for someone else to take responsibility for.

I had been so focused on myself that everything else had escaped my notice.

I lowered my face. What type of hero was I?

Sure, I had been concerned for him, to the point that I hadn't gotten sleep over it . . . but I had still left him there. Because I wanted to save myself.

And everyone did care too much about Blue Jay. No one was asking about the monster. Sure, the news stations had thrown out some questions, but they seemed more transfixed with the mysterious girl with superpowers. And the general public were even more focused on her. They had no idea what was coming, no idea of the storm that was brewing and ready to hit us.

Though, I realised, I guess I didn't either.

Nel had explained to me what this all meant, patiently answered my questions and even warned me, but I hadn't fully wrapped my head around it. Right now, the future was a movie scene in my head, one that I kept pressing fast forward on, so I only caught terrifying glimpses.

I realised that not only was everyone in the dark about what was coming, but so was I.

Biting my lip, I looked down at Phoebe.

Her eyes were narrowed and stuck on the two cheerleaders. She had her lips pressed so tightly together that the colour was fading, and her pale hands were wrapped around her bag straps. I recognised that look—she wanted to speak out. She wanted to defend Blue Jay. She wanted to prove that Blue Jay wasn't stealing the cops' jobs. She wanted to tell Rhonda what she had told me, backed it up with the facts she had dug up last night.

But I knew Phoebe: she was painfully shy. She may have grown since grade school—could now approach her friends or tease those she was close with without feeling awful about it after—but to strangers, she was just as shy.

Sweet as a butterfly, Phoebe still hid behind her hair and could barely answer her teachers even when she knew the answer. Debating with one of the Queens of Hillwood High over something ridiculous like a one time superhero wasn't her forte.

I placed a hand on her shoulder and she jumped, looking up at me like a kicked puppy. I forced a gentle smile, hoping to somehow lighten her burden, but the smile she gave back didn't reach her eyes.

If only Phoebe knew that the superhero she felt so protective of was standing right beside her. That not only was Blue Jay her best friend, but she was warmed that she felt so strongly about her. That her words carried a certain weight to them that she would never know.

The school bell went off and we looked up with quiet sighs.

"Algebra," I told her.

"Biology," she shrugged and looked away, frowning slightly.

My chest tightened and I stepped closer, squeezing her shoulder.

"Lunch today?" I asked and grinned when she looked back. The chances were low, but I really wanted her to make it today. Being with her made me forget about this superhero business. I didn't feel like a Guardian with the fate of the world on my shoulders. I felt like a teenager whose biggest concern was overdue homework or her feelings going unrequited. I didn't feel any of that pressure from the outside world, instead I was encased in a warmth that made it easier to smile through it all.

"Sorry," she apologised, tilting her head with a sheepish smile. "It's calculus today. I should be able to sometime this week though."

I sucked in a quiet breath, pushing out a terse smile.

"Yeah, right, of course," I jerked my shoulders into a shrug. "So, I'm guessing we're not making up for our last Sundae Monday?"

It was stupid to ask. I already had a busy afternoon, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted to escape these burdens Nel had hurled onto me.

"Maybe next week, Helga," she suggested, shaking her head, but I knew that we wouldn't be doing no such thing.

Quietly, I sighed. Another week skipped. I couldn't remember the last time we'd actually gone for ice cream. Phoebe's schedule was just so tight and busy, it prevented her from doing anything with me nowadays.

Well, now there was even less of a chance of any of that happening. Blue Jay would more or less be the death of that.

---

It was during Algebra that the exhaustion crept up on me.

Mrs. Brown's lecture was, as usual, agonisingly long, and given my distaste for her and this subject, I could hardly be blamed for slightly nodding off. It wasn't a conscious decision or anything, everything was just moving so slowly and the next thing I had known, my pencil had fallen from my hand and my head dropped to the desk. It didn't count as sleeping, though. It was my body resting, but not sleeping. Nope, not at all.

Not that Mrs. Brown cared; the moment she noticed me, she yelped then sent me out of class. Yeah, you see, Mrs. Brown had never been my biggest fan, especially since I'd always hated her classes, so she must've been brewing with satisfaction as she watched me leave.

And I was so tired, I could barely find it in myself to feel humiliated from the encounter. I mean, yes, everyone's eyes had been on me and some had even fought to keep their chuckles to themselves but getting out of there was a blessing in disguise. Because it meant that I would be standing out in the hallway, waiting for Mrs. Brown to come out and lecture me. But I was aware that she more than likely wouldn't do that, so I was free to slump on the floor and nod off again. Although, I guess that wasn't necessarily the best thing for me, considering that any time my eyes shut, that Mutant's eyes were back in my head.

On the bright side, it made me jerk awake in time for the bell, which meant I was the first to reach Gym today.

Don't get me wrong, I still hated Gym, but being the first in the locker rooms meant I didn't have to deal with Rhonda and her cronies.

"Hello, Helga."

I jumped, jerking my eyes from my shoes up to the person who dared to socialise with me. I almost groaned when my vision settled on the unfortunately familiar face of Lila Sawyer, who was watching me with a wide smile.

I really didn't have the patience for Miss Perfect today.

Said perfect specimen stepped forward, brown eyes twinkling, and tucked her arms behind her back like she was Velma fucking Dinkley.

"How are you feeling?" she continued, despite my silence, and tilted her head slightly. "Unscathed and fine, I hope?"

Unscathed and fine—criminy, who said that?

"Um," I rose my brow cautiously. "Yes?"

She opened her mouth to say something, but I looked away to the basketball game currently taking place. I hoped—if there was a god—that she would take the hint. Maybe she would realise, if I didn't look at her, that I had no interest in continuing this conversation and leave me alone.

The haziness swirled in my mind like a fog and I blinked rapidly to make out the happenings on the court. As usual, it was mostly occupied by the boys while the majority of the girls were on the sidelines, chattering amongst themselves. Ms. Ainsley was in a much better mood today, so she had no problem with letting us stand this one out.

Thank you, Reed, for not pissing off your girlfriend today.

Ms. Ainsley herself was clutching her clipboard in her white hands, festering from the sidelines, and barking out orders to both teams so they were aware how badly they were doing.

"Johanssen, what was that?! I've seen six–year–old girls with better aim then that!"

. . . Hey, I said she was in a better mood, not a good one.

My pulse was racing in my ears the moment I spotted a familiar blonde boy, zipping up and down the court. The breath in my chest halted as I watched him move with the grace of a cheetah, hair rippling around his face and glistening with sweat.

Biting my lip, I held back a sigh, resisting the urge to swoon. I don't understand how someone could be so beautiful, so perfect. He even made our P.E. uniform look attractive.

"It is just that you were acting quite bizarre on the bus today," Lila continued, oblivious to my disinterest. My insides curdled and I glowered at her. She blinked her big eyes, in a way that reminded me of a looney tunes cartoon, and her forehead creased. "You were blushing ever so much then left so suddenly. I was ever so worried that perhaps we may have made you uncomfortable and not to mention that atrocious occurrence in Algebra today . . ."

Oh, boy.

A headache was beginning to form, and I genuinely didn't know if it was because I was still tired or because Lila was . . . being Lila.

I shoved myself from the wall and turned away from her.

"No, I'm fine," I said dismissively and began to walk away.

I wasn't one to care much if my actions were perceived as rude, but today, I truly did not care. I didn't want to have this conversation—or any conversation, for that matter—with the girl of Arnold's dreams. And for a very hopeful moment, I thought that maybe, perhaps, I had actually managed to ditch her. But then I heard a bouncing noise, the sound of footsteps thumping against the wooden boards, and knew that nope—she was following me.

Shoving my fists into my pockets, I swung around with the blankest expression I could muster.

Lila jumped back with surprise, hands held in defence, but didn't show any signs of backing down.

"Lila, what do you want?"

There. That should tell her, plain as day, that I didn't want to talk with her.

Lila's eyebrows knitted together.

"To see if you are alright, Helga," she answered, in a voice slightly calmer than before, and placed her hands onto her hips. "I am not quite sure if you were there last night, but it is alright to admit what has you ever so shaken. It was quite frightening, after all. Well, I imagine, I wasn't there. But the videos were admittedly a bit shocking."

. . . Huh?

I blinked owlishly at her. "What?"

Something sparked in her eyes.

"Well," she straightened up with a proud smirk on her lips. And I realised, with horror, that by asking, I'd just provoked this conversation to go on even longer. "You've been acting ever so oddly today, and I know that you're awfully shy and like to keep to yourself, but you spoke up on the bus—about Blue Jay. You were behaving uncanny when her name was mentioned so I figured that whatever it is that you're going through must have something to do with her. Gerald didn't mention you being there last night but perhaps he just—"

Blah, blah, blah, blah—criminy, could this girl go on. Wasn't it obvious that I didn't want to talk to her? I didn't even like her. Lila wasn't particularly smart but come on—a deaf, blind and stupid man could tell you I didn't exactly think very highly of little miss perfect.

Then, a sharp whistling suddenly rang in my ears. Lila's voice became lost beneath the other voices that drowned hers out.

"—look out—!"

"—Lila, move—!"

"—get out of the way—!"

Sliding in front of Lila, I slammed my palm into her shoulder and shoved her out of the way. She squeaked, hair flying into her face, and I stretched out my arm in front of me.

Thwack!

I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut when something cracked into my hand. There were multiple gasps from around us that was followed by a tense silence.

My palm stung from the impact like someone had taken a whack at it. The skin burned beneath the object which felt ice cold in comparison. I attempted to wrap my fingers around the object that was now in my hand. It was round, I realised, and much bigger than my hand.

Opening my eyes, I realised that it had been the basketball the teams had been playing with.

I looked to the courts.

Eyes were pointed in my direction, not just from the players, but the people standing around the courts. It was almost comical how in sync they appeared, gawking at me like I'd pulled a rainbow from my nostrils. I honestly could've collapsed laughing at how astonished Gerald, of all people, appeared. But as it turns out, I wasn't in a very laughing mood.

I checked over my shoulder at Lila, who also stared at me, slack jawed.

"Would you buckos please watch how you're freakin' playing?!" I snapped and swung back around to glare at the players. "You could've hurt someone, idiots!"

Irritation curdled in my chest when they showed no signs of hearing me. Instead, their gazes had shifted from me to my hand and, at this point, appeared truly confounded. Appalled, really.

Frowning, I looked to my hand—

What the . . .

—and felt my jaw drop.

Sometime, while I'd been yelling at those blockheads, my hand had, on its own accord, flipped the ball and balanced it on one finger, spinning it on the tip. I blinked, flabbergasted. When had I learnt to do that? Only the most skilled players could do that. So, how was I? I wasn't even left–handed.

I looked to the crowd and my eyes found their way back to Arnold. He was already watching me. But he looked like everyone else did, flabbergasted. His eyes were wide, jaw hanging as he swept his sweaty bangs from his face. Beside him, Gerald and Sid looked like I'd pulled a zebra from my pocket. I could imagine their minds desperately trying to connect the dots and causing a malfunctioning short circuit.

And then, it became uncomfortably quiet. I couldn't tell if they were more shocked that I apparently had skills in a sport I hadn't played in years, or that it had been Lila Sawyer I'd saved. It wasn't like my animosity toward her was a well-kept secret or anything.

Either way, enough was enough.

Taking the ball back into my palm, I launched it over my shoulder and towards the court.

"Watch where you're throwing it next time!" I barked and then turned around to Lila. "You good?"

Her mouth opened to form a response, but nothing came out. She settled for closing her mouth and jerking her head up and down. Nodding, I turned and began to walk away—

When everyone's gasps caught my attention.

Ugh, what now.

Looking over my shoulder, I was prepared to roll my eyes at whatever miniscule thing they were reacting to, when my eyes settled on the basketball. It was currently dancing along the ring to the net, spinning in circles against the edge. I drew in a shocked breath, spinning around, and felt my heart leap into my throat as I watched the ball move. It was hanging on the edge for what felt like hours before it dipped through the ring and plummeted through the air.

The breath was snatched from my throat when the ball bounced against the wooden floor. Its slaps filled the room. No one said anything, and all our eyes were glued to the ball as it thumped. No one knew what to say—I sure as hell didn't. I was still questioning how the fuck I even had managed any of that. Sure, when I'd been young, I was much bigger on sports, but that wasn't now. And I most certainly had never been that good, much less without trying.

Had that been my reflexes or . . . Blue Jay's?

It was when Arnold's eyes turned back in my direction that a rush jolted through my body. My sneakers squeaked as I spun on the balls of my feet and stomped towards the doors. My heart was racing so loud it felt like everyone could hear it, and I gulped. Now was a marvellous time for a bathroom break and honestly, I could care less about getting a pass right now.

My palms shoved open the twin doors and I practically dove into the hallways. The air seemed less heavy out here, like I'd just stepped out of a sauna. Desperately, I sucked it in. My heart was still pounding. I really needed to put some space between that class and I.

"Helga—hey, Helga!"

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

I gritted my teeth with exasperation. I'd just managed to start walking down the hallway when Lila had suddenly called out for me. Maybe if I didn't look, she would think I hadn't heard her and just give up.

Yeah, that was a good idea.

Keeping my eyes down, I stalked down the hallway. I'd managed to take three steps when—

"Hey, Helga! Wait up!"

Jiminy cricket, was this girl stupid?

I released an exasperated breath as her footsteps became louder. Reluctantly, I stopped in my tracks. Because clearly, there wasn't a point in ignoring her. It seemed that when it came to Lila, that wouldn't help me in the slightest. She was either too stupid or, for whatever reason, persistent to talk to me.

Could this day get any worse?

"What?" I snapped, not turning around. I didn't need to know she was standing a few inches behind—

"How'd you do that?!" she demanded, suddenly jumping in front of me with a lunatic grin. I sprung back in surprise. "I never knew you had such impressive skills!"

Blinking, I pressed a hand to my chest and struggled to get the air back in.

Lila continued to beam at me, so bright that it was hard not to imagine stars twinkling around her face. Her hair was slightly ruffled from her quick movements and she shoved it behind her ears, taking another step closer.

"I–I don't," I stuttered and stepped backwards. "I haven't played basketball in years."

It wasn't a lie by the way, not in the slightest. I hadn't played in years. It just so happened that the reason behind what I'd displayed five minutes ago wasn't dumb luck, but my superhero reflexes bleeding into my everyday life.

Totally normal.

"Really?" Lila's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Well, that was ever so impressive, Helga!"

It was slightly uncomfortable, being so close to her. Again, Lila and I didn't have the best history and I preferred to keep her at an arm's length. Now, with her so swept up in her giddiness, she stood less than a few inches from me.

"Erm," I shuffled awkwardly. "Thanks."

I don't know if it was my answer, how I said it, or something going off in her own brain, but suddenly, Lila's grin had shifted into wide–eyed curiosity.

"But Helga, if you don't mind me asking—" she placed her index finger to the corner of her mouth. "—where exactly did you learn such skill?"

"I would also like to know that, Pataki."

Startled, we both swung around in the direction of that voice. And I honestly could've smacked myself when I realised who it belonged to. Because of course—of fucking course it would be Ms. Ainsley.

She was slumped against the Gym doors, like she was imitating a leather–wearing bad boy from a 50s movie. She had her foot pressed against the door and arms crossed tight over her chest. The corner of her mouth was turned up and her plucked eyebrow raised like she'd just made an excellent point.

"So," she said in a particularly low voice. "What is it, Pataki? Where'd you learn moves like that?"

"Eh, here and there," I mirrored her actions and folded my arms, pretending I didn't care. Not that I did, of course. Sure, my heart was racing, but it wasn't because I cared or anything, I just wanted to get the pair of them off my back.

Ainsley nodded.

"Impressive nonetheless, Pataki," she admitted with a thoughtful expression. I didn't like it, not one bit. That look always promised misery, whether it was cruel pranks on some of the girls or particularly difficult courses for the whole class. It never guaranteed happiness for us.

"Um," I glanced over my shoulder, weighing my options. I could make a run for it, but Ainsley was a P.E. teacher with long legs. If anyone could catch me while I was making an escape, it was her. I turned back to them, but mostly focused my attention on Lila. Ainsley was giving me an uncomfortably long look while Lila stared at her with alarm. Couldn't blame her really. "Anyway, I'm just gonna go to the lock—"

"Y'know, we have a free spot on the basketball team," Ainsley interrupted and pushed herself up from the wall, moving forward. Lila's and my response were immediate, stepping back wide to keep as much distance from her as we could.

I gulped. "Um, actually—"

"I wasn't aware," Lila interjected, "that there was even an open spot on the team, Ms. Ainsley."

Ainsley shrugged.

"There isn't," she answered, then gestured to me with a nod. "However, I'm willing to change that for someone like Pataki."

My jaw dropped.

"You mean—" I started, unable to comprehend her implications, "that you would—"

"—kick someone off the team?" Lila finished, looking just as baffled, "just to make room for Helga?"

Ainsley remained oblivious to our trepidation and rose her chin with pride.

"Yes," she grinned. "Aren't I so generous?"

Lila managed a shaky smile. "Well, I—"

"Of course, it would have to be the boy's team," she quickly interjected, cupping her chin and looking up with thought. Lila stopped, eyes widening slightly, and I sighed. "The girls' team is pathetic, a total waste of my time. I would've kicked them all off and shut the thing down, but the school is forcing me to keep them—something about it being unconstitutional to allow only one of the sexes to play. Bull, I say! Unconstitutional is forcing me to waste my days trying to train a bunch of sissies who wouldn't know a basketball if it hit them in the face! Trust me, I've tried."

Lila blinked, mouth dropping with surprise. For once, she couldn't offer a rebuttal. Not because she agreed with it, but because she seemed so taken back. Hell, I was slightly shocked. Not that that was how she felt, but from how quickly Ainsley's moods had managed to change. She looked ready to punch a hole through the wall.

"Um, I—super, Ms. A," I lied, rubbing the back of my neck. "Erm, can I go—"

"Excellent," Ainsley interrupted with a wide smile, holding up her fingers to tick off her next few points. "Practises are Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays after school, sometimes we meet on weekends and—"

"Um," I stared at the short–haired woman with shock. "Hold on, I never said I was actually playing."

Ainsley stopped and turned her head back in my direction. She blinked a few times and then, when it had apparently hit her what I had said, her jaw dropped. Hell, even Lila seemed taken back with my decision.

"What?!"

My knees quaked at her shout, but I forced my face straight.

"Sorry, coach," I shrugged, eyes shifting to the corner above her head. "I just don't have time to be on a team."

Again, not a lie. Becoming Blue Jay hardly left me time for anything anymore. Sleep was hard enough, let alone extracurriculars that were managed by one of the most insane human beings I knew.

But the moment that sentence had left my lips, the air shifted—it became tense. Quiet. Disturbingly quiet.

Stomach squirming, I shifted my weight and glanced back to Ainsley. Her mouth had frozen wide open, so wide that a bird could fly in and set up shop. She had come to a complete and utter stop, one that scared the life out of me. It was rare when Ainsley chose to be silent, and normally it didn't lead to many good things.

It didn't help that I might've been the first person to decline her offer to join a team. You see, Ainsley hardly gave out invitations for students to actually join her teams. Typically, they showed up to try outs and if they impressed her, she let them in, as was required. But it was rare for her to spot someone and decide she wanted them to be under her wing, and that someone being a girl was even moreso.

That being said, when she actually decided to ask someone to join the team, she viewed it like she was Jesus asking someone to sit at the table with his disciples. It was a holy event, her extending her olive branch to someone in need, and she expected the uttermost gratitude for it.

"WHAT?!"

Lila and I both jumped. Ainsley had snapped back into action, eyes blinking rapidly with disbelief, and threaded her fingers through her short strands.

I gulped, suddenly aware that Ainsley was very tall. Like, seriously tall. And it wasn't like I was lacking in the height department, but next to Ainsley, I was at a clear disadvantage. So, I made the courageous decision to slip behind Lila, ducking my head behind her shoulder.

The redhead gave me an exasperated look.

"I'm sorry," I sheepishly smiled from around her hair. "But like I said, I'm pretty busy no—"

"With what?!" Ainsley demanded, fists digging into her hips.

And quite frankly, I didn't think I could give her an answer. One that would satisfy her, anyway. I mean, for starters, there's no way she would ever believe my reason for not joining (besides the fact that I didn't want to). And also, I don't think there was an answer in the world that would satisfy her that didn't involve my limbs falling off.

Lila folded her arms, watching me over her shoulder. Her eyes were slow, careful, like she was scrutinizing every thought running through my head. It didn't comfort me in the least. I already had Ainsley up in my goat, I didn't need her as well. Although, I guess she had started way before Ainsley, but still.

"Umm," I rubbed my neck. "Just y'know—stuff."

Lila rose her eyebrows. "Stuff?"

"Stuff?" Ainsley repeated.

"Stuff," I confirmed with a nod.

Her eyes darkened, like I'd just challenged her, and she lowered her chin, so her glare moved through her bangs like a knife.

"What type," she said through her teeth, "of stuff?"

The way she looked; it reminded me of the moments before werewolves transformed in teen movies. Her chin had dipped to her collarbones and how sharp her face had become, like I'd just ate her first born.

I cleared my throat, shuffling my feet, and tried gathering any remaining courage from last night.

"You know . . . stuff," I shrugged to show her I wasn't, in fact, scared of her. It was a complete and total lie, but hey, they didn't need to know. "Anyways, sorry coach, but I'm way too busy for—"

"Can't you quit your stuff?" she urged desperately, glare vanishing for an attempted puppy dog plea. "Please?"

She stepped forward and, once again, Lila and I immediately rushed backwards. Unaffected, Ainsley clasped her hands and twinkled her eyes, poking out her bottom lip.

It was weird.

"I–I'm sorry," I stuttered. "But I just don't have the time."

Lila and I fell silent as Ainsley tried to comprehend that someone had actually declined her offer. Her mouth opened and shut but no words were coming out. Her eyes glazed and dropped to the floor, her fists clenching and unclenching by her sides.

I rose a brow. Was she having a stroke?

Then suddenly, Ainsley dropped to her knees and clasped her hands together in a prayer formation.

"Please," her voice turned into a hoarse pleading. "I–I'm begging you!"

Lila and I jumped in surprise as her words bounced from the walls.

"You don't understand, Pataki!" Ainsley continued, oblivious to our growing fear. "You're the first real talent I've come across in this fat lump of a school! Have you seen that low down, sorry excuse for a team? Bunch of wimps and crybabies. Why, they're nothing more than ninnies, I tell you! They're the most talentless, non–moving gumps I've seen! Why'd ya think we haven't won any games as of late?

"B–But with you on the team—" her eyes developed into a demented, sadistic twinkle as the corners of her mouth stretched so high, they were a few centimetres shy of her earlobes. "—we . . . we might actually win—yes! HA–HA! We could win! Yes! You, Pataki, may have the talent, the means, to win me my first game since I was doomed with these pathetic piles of putrid pus! MWAHAHAHAHA!"

Lila and I stood there as our P.E. teacher transformed into the world's most feral, scariest supervillain. She had risen from her knees back to her feet, but seemed even more imposing than before, and her shoulders hunched forward like she was the fucking Hulk.

A part of my brain registered that, at some point during her monologue, Lila and I had wrapped our arms around one another and now stood cheek–to–cheek. But my focus was mostly directed onto Ainsley. What had happened to her?

BRIING!

"Hey—OI! PATAKI, GET BACK HERE!"

---

I was never going to P.E. again.

I don't care how I managed to do it—whether it involved coming up with weird, over–the–top illnesses or injuries or hell, actually getting injured—I was not—repeat: not—stepping one foot into that Gym again. And that was a promise. I was totally willing to move schools if I had to. Hell, that might actually be easier. Sure, I would have to bid Phoebe adieu, but at least I wouldn't have to constantly look over my shoulder for psychopathic teachers.

You see, after I'd booted it out of P.E., the she–devil—I didn't even feel safe thinking her name anymore—had made it her mission to win me over to her stupid basketball team. It was lunchtime now and she was spending it searching the school grounds for me. I'd spotted her just before I'd stepped into the cafeteria—she stood out right away to me. Her blue tracksuit was a pop of colour amongst all the crimson that I noticed her right away and quickly moved out of the doorway before she could turn around. Students around me glanced over weirdly, but I ignored them, pasting my back against the door.

Ainsley had been scouring around my table, the one I had reserved as my own. People had looked over at her, trying to figure out what she was doing, but quickly turned away when she had glanced in their direction.

Sighing, I had rested the back of my head against the wall. Obviously, my table was no longer an option.

Which led me here—the school roof. Alone. I'd been reluctant at first, considering how much of a walk it was from the cafeteria, but hey, the promise of no Ainsley was worth it. The door had squeaked as I'd heaved it open, and then the sunlight had left me blind for a good few moments.

It rushed down in white waves and splattered across the roof. It was wide and flat up here; an inter–linking fence enclosed the entire area. There was a beautiful garden that grew from the small, rectangular pit. Bright green leaves cascaded over the edges, framing the cluster of colourful flowers. There were daffodils, smatters of fuchsia and saffron hued primroses. But the one that had caught my eye was the centaurea; they were such an electric burst of blue, a chilling neon that reminded me of sapphires. And beside the garden, was a bench, in the perfect position to collect as much sunlight as possible.

It was so different out here; it was the same size as the cafeteria, but without the people and tables. There was so much room to move around. I could stretch out my arms, spin around in circles, and no one would even know. But it was quiet. There wasn't any mindless chatter or the scraping of chairs. The closest to it was the softness of the wind, folding against my ears.

Without the distractions, it made me notice the hollowness.

Clutching the fence, I bit down on my straw, the flavoured milk coming up stronger. It shouldn't have mattered—it didn't matter—and I pushed that detail to the back of my mind.

Heat swam around my face as I watched the world below me. It was a three–storey height, but I could see the school fields perfectly. It was mostly occupied by the guys that played football; they weren't dressed in their equipment, instead having taken off their blazers and jackets and loosening their ties. I slightly cringed, watching one with blonde hair skid across the ground. Not because he may have been injured, but because that was definitely going to leave stains. And if there was one thing teachers at this school did not tolerate, it was stained shirts.

But then my eyes fell on the hunched form of Ainsley, marching up to them. They paused their game, some even sneaking away, as she barked at them, demanding where her shining star was. They each looked amongst themselves, some shrugging since the name didn't ring any bells, then shook their head. I hadn't realised I'd been holding my breath until Ainsley let out a frustrated sigh and stormed off. That's when I noticed I was still holding milk in my mouth and quickly gulped it down.

I let out a relieved breath and turned to the skies. The clouds were white and fat, the air crisp. It slipped past me and pushed my hair into my face. I moved it from my teeth then traced my fingers along my scalp.

I hissed when I reached a sensitive spot.

Stupid Mutant had left behind a huge lump on my head. But Nel had assured me it would heal itself quickly; if not today, then certainly tomorrow.

I sighed.

Nel had actually explained a lot last night.

---

"Criminy!"

My jaw had dropped when my eyes landed on the face staring back in the mirror.

The first thing I noticed, were her eyes.

They were large, hard and blue. Not a soft, baby blue They were the type of blue that generated a feeling like I was being pulled into a lake. It was like all the myriad shades of blue swirled together to form a whirlpool of caution.

She had smooth skin, sprinkled with small freckles like angel dust, and her brows curved in swooping arcs over her eyes. The girl seemed so young, there wasn't a wrinkle to her face, but there was a maturity to her; something about how she was built. I couldn't put my finger on what it was exactly—the height, the eyes, the overall guarded look—but she just seemed so soldier–like, no nonsense.

Her blonde hair had become unruly, rolling down her back in sticky clumps, both from the sweat and blood. The air in here was crisp—since I'd left the window open—but despite that, her skin glistened with sweat. An especially bright pink patch shone on her right cheek and a tiny cut resided on her plump lips. But somehow, despite the bruises running up and down her arms, the girl remained an ethereal beauty.

And the longer I examined her, the harder it became to accept that the girl in the mirror was me.

Technically.

"Shit, I look hot," I murmured and then, turning around, my eyes widened when they zeroed in on my backside. "Jiminy cricket—" my jaw dropped for what felt like the hundredth time. "I have an ass!"

Because, quite frankly, as Helga, my figure had as many curves as an arrow.

There was a forced, awkward coughing and when I glanced over my shoulder, it was to the uncomfortable black cat.

Nel was perched on my bed, a paw to her mouth (I'd given up, at this point, questioning her human–like behaviour), and her face had morphed with impatience.

"If you are quite done focusing on such trivial, unbecoming things," she said with a hard stare, "I would very much like to continue explaining your new role as a Guardian."

Trust Nel to be a stick in the mud.

Rolling my eyes, I turned around to face her.

"Gee, Nel, sorry and all," I said, tone dry, and threw up my hands in exasperation. "But c'mon, did you see me out there? I totally rocked. I was awesome! I mean, this morning my biggest concern was catchin' that dang bus. Now I'm a freaking hero—a superhero! Move over Superman, there's a new man of the hour! Oh my God, this is so awesome! Why didn't this happen years ago? Imagine all the things I can do with these—"

"Are you done yet?" Nel's ears pulled back and she stood to her feet. "I cannot believe how selfish you are acting right now."

"Hey," I frowned, crossing my arms. "I thought I surprised you. What the heck crawled up your butt?"

Nel narrowed her eyes.

"You are treating your duties carelessly and refusing to see past your selfish gains," she hissed. "A man almost died not an hour ago, along with innocent civilians, and you have the nerve to treat your new role as if it were a joke? You surprise me, Helga."

She said it low like I really had disappointed her. I dug my fingers into my biceps. I hated to admit it, but Nel had a point. Ever since I had gotten back, I'd been high on this rush and hadn't even stopped to ask what would become of that man. He hadn't moved when he had hit the ground, and I remembered seeing flecks of blood . . . that man hadn't looked much older than me.

"Alright, alright, alright—I got it. I'm sorry, okay?" I waved around a dismissive hand and looked away, so hopefully Nel couldn't detect how I felt. The guilt pumped through me and swelled in my throat. But Nel's gaze was heated, two lightbulbs pressing into my skin, so I whirled around and wrapped my fingers around my hips. "Anyways, how do I, uh, change back?"

"Oh," I caught the surprise that flickered over Nel's face in her reflection, as she seemingly realised it was Blue Jay she was talking to, not Helga. "Right, of course—well, it's simple. Place your hand against your chest, close your eyes and conjure an image of yourself." I obeyed with a nod, shutting my eyes and placing my hand on my chest. "Think of what you had been wearing, how you had tied your hair, the colour of—"

"Alright, alright, I got it—geeze. . ." I waved my hand around carelessly at her. "No need to chat my ear off, Nel."

Call me psychic, but she was totally glaring at me right now.

Shaking my head, I squeezed my eyes even tighter and thought of what I'd been wearing today. I remembered that familiar hoodie I always wore beneath my blazer, that ugly, knee–length skirt, my twin ponytails, the stain on my shirt—

I gasped.

The electrical heat that danced under my skin was intoxicating. It pushed through my veins and my heart thundered in my ears. There was a sizzling energy, it was so warm and strong, yet it felt like a radiant mist, pulling me in all directions.

But then it was gone.

The absolute power, the warmth that made my heart sing—it was all gone, and I was left feeling cold and delicate. Waves of nausea hit me and the ground beneath my feet began to shift. The buzzing in my head was replaced with a throbbing sensation that made everything spin.

I clutched my head with a small groan. Why did I feel so tired?

Nel coughed sheepishly, ducking her head when I looked at her.

"Erm, well, yes, I forgot to mention that," she quickly admitted. "At first, when transforming back, you may feel a little strained—"

"A little?" I balked at her, completely stumped as to why she wouldn't mention that until now.

"Yes, a little," and then she had the nerve to actually roll her eyes at me. "However, given some time, I'd imagine you'd get quite used to it."

This cat, I decided, was too British for her own good.

And then her words registered.

"Wait—whoa, whoa, whoa—hold up! Time out!" I held up my hands in a T formation. "Who said this was gonna be a regular thing?"

Nel's eyes widened. "Helga, you cannot be serious—"

"Oh yes, I am, sister. Quite, in fact," I snapped and crossed my arms over my chest. "I mean, for cripes sake, I'm only sixteen! And you expect me to go around, fighting monsters just because some talking cat tells me to? No thank you."

"But if you don't," Nel insisted through her teeth, "then who will?"

"You said there were others—three!" I insisted. "Why don't you find them and make them fight?! Hell, you can even take this bizarro thing back and—"

"I don't know who they are!"

I stopped.

Nel's stare had become hard and her voice turned shaky. Nel so far hadn't shown a wide range of emotions outside of frustration, disappointment and seriousness, but now, she seemed to be swimming in them.

The surprise I felt must've been evident because Nel, shutting her eyes, took three breaths to calm herself. The hardness in her face softened and when she opened her eyes, they were different—worn, weary, like she had been drained of her energy.

I dropped my gaze.

"Listen Helga, if I were able to, I would. I'd choose someone else to fight these beasts—someone older . . . w–with more experience. But I . . . I can't. I do not possess the power to just pick Guardians, I can only find them. I cannot create. Because believe me, if I could, I would choose someone else. It pains me to put such a burden onto someone so young, but I'm not in the position to pass up your potential. You've seen those things; more are coming and I'm simply out of time. Otherwise I would. I would take your place, if I could, but I cannot."

She said that with her eyes low, an emotion swirling behind them, one that I couldn't recognise. But it made the weight in my chest sink down to my stomach.

"But I can assure you this," she quickly said, blinking away the misty emotions and looking up at me, "that I will do everything within my power to properly equip you. To train you to fight with power and skill against these things. I can promise you that."

She said it with such confidence, such fortitude, that I was left speechless. Her eyes were unyielding, never flicking away from mine, and burned like embers.

The thoughts swimming through my head were so conflicting and loud that I had to force myself to look away. All the thoughts racing through me felt like explosions, spinning around at an unknown rate. I could feel the fear, the confusion, hell, even the interest, all at once.

On one hand, I didn't want this. Any of it. Nel spoke so gravely about all of this, and though I didn't quite understand the situation fully, I did understand that by accepting this role, people's lives would be in my hands. Which was nuts. I barely could get myself out of bed in the morning, now I had to protect an entire city from those . . . things? And speaking of those things, I'd barely even gotten out of tonight's fight. Now, I'd have to keep doing that, over and over again? Why? Why did it have to be me and not someone else? As Nel said, someone experienced, older and smarter. This felt like a giant mistake.

But . . . Nel was desperate.

According to her, there were more of these monsters. Ones that were lethal, powerful, possibly even more than tonight's. The monster tonight had been so terrifying. . . and this was just the beginning. I knew that. And if someone didn't fight . . .

Who would?

I was the only one.

It terrified me, but it was true. Until Nel could find the other Guardians, I was the only one who could fight. That made it my sole responsibility . . . to protect everyone. I'd have to muster up every and any piece of strength I'd ever had.

I had to fight.

But that conclusion opened my mind up to images. The absolute terror on that man's face, his unmoving body on the ground, the vicious look on that thing's face—

My scalp began to burn, as if to remind me of that blow I'd received. I raised my hand to rub against the area but hissed when pain flashed. A lump was beginning to form. My stomach began to curl, because the reality was, if I accepted this duty, then lumps were the least of my worries. I probably was going to come home way more injured than I had tonight.

It sent shivers down my spine and I had to wrap my arms tight over my chest. Nel's gaze was burning. I looked away. Came back to my reflection in the mirror. I was surprised by how much darker the bruises appeared against my skin now that I was Helga.

The one on my left cheekbone was particularly nasty, a purple welt scattered across my skin like a disease. And the cut on my lip was unavoidable now. Blue Jay had lips that were plump like cream. But mine were less consistent. The bottom was thin, while the top was puffed like it had been stung. But the area around the cut swelled out and made the inconsistency even worse. It throbbed painfully. I could feel the blood rushing warm beneath my skin.

The results of tonight's fight were dark against my face. They were inescapable, a stark contrast to how Blue Jay had appeared. The injuries had been noticeable, but not like this; on her, they'd seemed lighter, almost artificial, like they were special effects. It looked like I had come from a very violent fight, but on her, it had been almost a scuffle. Maybe that was why her face looked the way it was, why it had been built so stone-like. It was like it had been crafted exactly like that, while mine was still human, and therefore worse for wear against bruising like this.

"Please, Helga," Nel's voice was soft, and when I glanced back, her eyes were pleading. "There isn't any time to waste. Many more Mutants will infiltrate this planet, if they haven't already and, without you, all hope is lost."

I couldn't ignore the desperation in her voice. Her eyes pinned against mine and silently, I could hear their whispers. How she was pleading that I consider what it was that I could be preventing. To imagine what would happen if I turned this all down.

I itched to tell her no, but the words were caught in my throat. What would happen if I rejected this? There were others like me, but how quickly could she locate them? I don't know how long it had taken her to find me, but she had done it the day that thing had shown up. Something similar could happen tomorrow, where it wasn't a guarantee that there would be someone to stop it.

The idea terrified me, but there didn't seem to be another option.

Besides, as much as I wanted to ignore it, there had been an elation I felt when I was her.

Blue Jay.

When I was her, it was like stepping out into the light when you had spent your life behind bars. The world broke apart as the bars melted from around me, and as I stepped forward, the sun crawled across my face. The air became swollen from its heat. It crept across my cheeks, sliding down my neck and brushing my hair from my shoulders. The surrealness engulfed me, dancing and swirling in a dazzling storm that curled like summer in my palms. It left my heart full. The tension that had been keeping my chest prison for years now vanishing and I was left dizzy from the unprecedented rush that beamed from beneath my skin.

She pushed the shadows away until I shone so bright, I was starlight.

I glanced down to the pin, still stuck to my shirt.

Being Blue Jay felt like I'd reunited with a friend I'd always known. A figure that had hung back against the corners of my mind. A haunted daydream that still beamed like a diamond, no matter how many shadows you covered her in. A missing part of myself.

I wrapped my hands around my arms, sighing. There were muscles I hadn't realised that had tensed. Keeping my head down, I crossed the room, pressing my lips together, and Nel watched silently as I sat down in front of her.

I cleared my throat. "Sooo, what exactly was that thing?"

I had said it softly, hoping that it came across as almost apologetic, and when I looked up, Nel appeared taken back. Her eyes widened for a moment, mouth parting, but when I rubbed the back of my neck, she shook it off with a reassuring smile. She gave me a small nod and though I didn't know her, I knew that it was her way of thanking me.

"That, Helga, was a Mutant."

"A Mutant?"

"Yes," her smile disappeared, expression turning grim. "A creation that was brought to life by the Priestess Acantha."

I furrowed my brow. "Ah–kan–tha?"

Her eyes softened, appearing slightly amused at my attempt at pronouncing the foreign name, as she nodded.

"Yes—Acantha. A woman of absurdly great powers and the leader of Mutants, like the one you fought tonight," she explained, smile once again vanishing. "She and her army of Mutants travel from planet to planet, killing all life before moving onto the next."

A shiver ran up my spine.

Drawing my legs to my chest, I wrapped my arms around my shins and leaned in close. There was a nauseous curl in my stomach, but I was still interested in what she had to say.

"I regret to say this, but truthfully, there is little I actually know about Acantha. People who encounter her usually are not heard of again. However, I do know that the most recent planet she declared war on—Laakia—severely weakened her army and she was forced to flee. She was temporarily able to open up a portal that allowed herself and roughly only 10% of her army to escape, which led her here. However, the rest of her army remained on Laakia."

She ended there, glancing down to hide the way her eyes had clouded over with something. I didn't know what was going through her mind, but I knew she wasn't about to share it with me, and I quickly blurted out, "What is she hoping to get from Earth?"

I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the answer.

"Energy—lots of energy," Nel answered, looking up at me. I froze, not because of what she had said, but from how different she appeared. The clouded emotions were gone, replaced with a sharpness, a passion that oozed like white hot flames. "The Priestess Acantha is a powerful woman—legend has it, she possesses a strength that could rival even the greatest of Guardians. However, even she has her limits; she cannot hope to open a portal of that magnitude for as long as it'll take to get everyone from there over here."

"How did she originally, then?" I couldn't help asking.

Nel paused for a moment, seeming a little peeved at my interruption, but answered anyway. "She was able to because there wasn't as many bodies to get through the first time. She had been injured, someone had gotten her rather badly, and had she not been able to get out so quickly, the results would've been fatal. I assume she had enough strength to get herself some place far away—in this case, Earth—but not enough to hold the portal open for very long."

"Oh," was all I could say.

"She plans on collecting enough energy from humans to open up another one," Nel continued. "And if she does, she'll regain control over the rest of her army. And if that happens . . . likely, she'll destroy everything on Earth."

Yep, I was right. Didn't want to know the answer.

Swallowing, I purposely glanced over that small 'destroy everything on Earth' factor. "Um, you say 'energy' . . . what exactly is that?"

Nel blinked, looking surprised that I focused on that part.

"To put it bluntly, your energy is your life force," she answered anyway. "It is what drives you in your regular life. It is a fundamental force that nourishes all life in existence. It is what allows you to think, to feel, to move, react—everything. Without it, we simply cannot exist. Everything gives off a considerable amount in their lifetime. Especially humans; you, in particular, give off a sizeable portion, which is why you're all, for the moment, so valuable to Acantha."

"So, that yellow cloud I saw on the man's face, then . . ." I said, the little dots beginning to connect in my mind. ". . . that mist that the Mutant was collecting, was that that man's energy?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Because of the amount you give off regularly, it shouldn't take more than a couple hundred of you to provide Acantha with the power to open up another portal. And if she opens up another one . . ." she trailed off, but I didn't need her to finish to understand the meaning.

"She sounds like a bitch," I decided.

The comment had been more to myself, but Nel cracked a small smile. She looked up, her gaze latching onto mine, and for a moment, I felt like the hanging tension maybe had been smothered. But as quickly as it had came, the smile disappeared and she proceeded to tell me about the upcoming apocalypse.

"There are three types of Mutants that I've counted. There are the general Mutants, Wraiths and Leeches. General Mutants are the most common; they come in all shapes and sizes, and each have their own strengths. However, they all share a common weakness—you maybe have noticed the writing on that knife I gave you," she looked at me expectedly and I nodded, prompting her to continue. "Well, that is an ancient incantation that enchants the blade, which acts like an acid to them. If the blade pierces their flesh, it will eradicate them, as you saw." Nel's face then shifted, from a cool shade to a blazing intensity. "Do not lose that blade, Helga—whatever you do. It is highly valuable and, so far, your only way of defeating them."

I blinked, trying to clear my mind. "Umm, what's the second type of Mutants, then?"

"Wraiths," she answered, grim with the thought, which didn't encourage anything warm or fuzzy in me either. "They are unlike regular Mutants in that they can disguise themselves perfectly reminiscent of humans. Unlike Mutants, Wraiths do not outright attack their victims, they feed off their happiness. Wraiths inhabit popular spots and collect energy through their victim's happiness. Shapeshifting aside, they tend to be much more powerful and lethal compared to other Mutants, so be careful, Helga."

I gulped, nodding.

"And the third type—" she drew in a breath. "—are Leeches. And I pray that you'll never have to come into contact with them."

"Why?"

"Because, Helga, unlike regular Mutants, they will not initiate their attacks. They are like Wraiths in that they are imperceptible, however their similarities end there. Unless they allow you to, you cannot see Leeches. They keep themselves concealed within barriers completely invisible to the naked eye. Once they choose a victim, they can read your deepest fears and call those victims to their barriers and into their nests. There, they'll feed off your insecurities, anxieties and fears. And for ordinary humans, once they enter a Leech's barrier, they cannot escape. Few people have made it out alive and they've all been Guardians. The rest have died from having experienced such terrors."

She stopped there, giving me the time to digest everything, but the silence became so deafening that I could feel my eardrums beating wildly. The air seemed colder, coursing up and down my arms, and my hands tingled. And yet my blood was burning, pushing up and hissing against my skin. What had I gotten myself into? What had Nel gotten me into?

I didn't want it—any of it.

I wanted to curl up beneath my covers and sleep. Only I didn't want to wake, not this time. I didn't want to face this new reality—I was still a kid; how could I defend everybody from . . . whatever this was?

"Why me?" I whispered, in a way that reminded me of cracked glass. It was so quiet that for a moment, I thought Nel hadn't heard me.

She hesitated, staring at me with a pained expression before sighing.

"That I do not know," she uttered and looked towards the windows that overlooked the city's lights. The night was dark and it reflected in her jaded eyes. "I can only assume there is something about you—something strong. Otherwise, the pin wouldn't have chosen you."

My stomach had sunken and I had to press my lips tight together to resist throwing up. Instead, I followed her gaze out the window. The night cackled with static as bright pink glistened from the skyscrapers, shining through the glass and washing across my carpet.

Finally, I found my voice.

"There isn't another way?" And when Nel turned back to me, incredulously, I added, "There isn't an option that doesn't involve fighting?"

The stress melted from her face when she realised she had nothing to worry about and slowly, she took a steady breath, shaking her head.

"No—all we can do is fight." Something in her voice made me turn back to her. Her eyes were worn. "If we don't fight, how can we win?"

---

"Uh, okay—didn't know we had this here before."

I hadn't known what to expect when Nel and I had gotten off that town bus. She had been curled up in my bag, since cats weren't technically allowed on public transport, but had made hissing sounds when our stop had approached. Sounds that were so blatantly unsubtle, that passengers had looked in my direction before moving their kids away. Yeah, thanks Nel, I always wanted strangers to think there was something wrong with me.

Anyway, the stop in question had been across from a gas station. It hadn't seemed unordinary until I actually had gotten off the bus, and the transport had already disappeared around the corner. Because, as Nel put it, we were off to find a space for me to train. A gas station hadn't exactly been what I had in mind. Honestly, I was expecting something like the wrestling ring or something. When I voiced these concerns to her, she merely rolled her eyes and started walking down the road. Pretty rude if you asked me, but hey, she's the expert. So, I'd followed her, and after getting to a certain spot down the road, we had travelled into the thicket of the forest that skirted the highway.

Thankfully, it wasn't one of those forests that had cliffs, or deep ledges, but it was still pretty thick. The air hung heavy from the moisture that soaked the moss–covered trees. And everything was just so green—violently so. I was pretty much sick of the colour by the time we got here.

Here being . . . a telephone booth.

Yeah, I hadn't been expecting that either.

It was so oddly placed; nestled against one of the largest trees I'd seen, the green roots twisted around the booth from the side. It was so brightly coloured; a fire truck shade of red up against green bark that curled up into the canopy of the forest.

I looked down at the cat sitting next to my ankles. "It's a phone booth, Nel."

"Yes, Helga," Nel's gaze didn't leave the small structure in front of us. "It is a phone booth. Although I prefer to call it a telephone booth."

"Why is it a phone booth?"

"Telephone," she stressed, scowling at me. "And because it is how we get to the training facility. Honestly, Helga, were you not listening?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, we mustn't be on the same page," I crouched to her level. She glanced at me questioningly. "How are we supposed to get to the training facility if instead you've taken me to a PHONE BOOTH IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WOODS INSTEAD?!"

Grimacing, Nel drew her ears back against her head. Her face scrunched into a glare, which she turned against mine.

"Yes, it is a phone booth and in the middle of the woods. Therefore, it will not draw the attention of regular people."

"That doesn't make sense!" I exclaimed. "There's nothing more likely to draw my attention then a phone booth in the middle of the woods!"

"Yes, but it is not accessible to them," she stressed through gritted teeth and motioned towards the door. "Now for goodness' sake, just trust me and go inside."

Gritting my teeth, I threw my fists to my sides and rose back to my feet. "Stupid cat—"

I took a step forward, not seeing the roots in front of my feet, and next thing I knew, my face had smacked into the ground.

A gush of pain throbbed in my nose and I lifted my face to spit out the dirt from my mouth. Sliding my hands over the ground, I pushed myself up into a sitting position to rub the left over dirt in my eyes.

Ah, nuts—now my uniform was all gross–looking. I couldn't get away with not washing it now, I guess I had to add laundry to my list of—

"Are you quite done, Helga?" Opening my eyes, I saw Nel sitting against the still–closed door, her tail snapping in the air behind her. "Come on, we haven't got all day."

Screwing my mouth to the side, I growled but obeyed, pushing myself to my feet and moving towards the booth. I kept my eyes on the ground, looking for any roots with antagonistic intent, and when I looked back up, it was to Nel's disapproving glare.

"You certainly took your time, Helga," she stated, motioning towards the door. I rolled my eyes but yanked open the door, and we both piled in. It was nothing special, a cramped space with a public phone and even a phonebook.

Huh, I hadn't seen one of those in years now.

Turning back to Nel, I opened my mouth to ask what other inane nonsense she wanted us to do. But she cut me off before I could even get one word out.

"Now, if you're done dilly–dallying, we can finally begin our tasks. Oh, and close your mouth Helga, you are not a fish. And shut the door, please."

You know, between my being larger than her and having superpowers, Nel was really beginning to push her luck. Gritting my teeth, I shut the door behind me and turned to look at her challengingly.

"Now what?"

"Now take out your pin," she instructed. Digging into my blazer, I pulled out my bird–shaped pin. The metal was cold from having not been used since last night. "Hold it in front of the scanner."

I stared at her. "Okay, what scanner, Einstein? We're in a booth."

She looked up with impatience, as if she were talking to an idiot. "Up there, Helga. Look directly in front of you."

Alright, this cat was officially on drugs. It was bad enough that Nel could talk, but now she was seeing things? Criminy, maybe this was a prank show—

Hey, when'd that scanner get there?

It had escaped my notice before but there was a tiny black box poking above the phone on the wall. The box was small and no bigger than my thumb.

"Now," Nel continued, "hold your phone in front of it."

I gave her a hesitant look, which she met with a small, somewhat encouraging nod. So, gripping the pin, I rose the bird's eye to the box. A blue beam of light shot out from the box and illuminated both our faces. I jumped back, but Nel remained still, watching it knowingly. The light traced up and down the pin then vanished as the box melded into the door.

I blinked, my hand falling to my side. "What the hell was that?"

Ignoring my question, Nel sunk to the ground with a determined glare. "Hold onto something, it has a bit of a kick."

"Erm, whaddya—"

The floor beneath our feet gave a low groan and weird noises came from the walls, before sharp sounds like branches snapping hit us. And the floor felt like it gave out as, like a rocket, Nel and I shot off.

Whoosh!

The force sent me tumbling to my feet and the back of my head smacked against the wall, earning a sympathetic grimace from Nel. Groaning, I rubbed the bruised spot—why was it always the head?

A blinding red light flashed, and wind whipped my hair into my face. I realised that the glass windows no longer showed the forest but now, a blackness. Looking closely, I noticed there was a rushing sensation, almost like we were . . . sinking. My eyebrows shot up, was this an elevator?

Then it was all gone—the light, the movements, the rush of air.

We hung in a silence, staring out the window that showed the same clouded darkness. Pressed against the wall, I was silent.

There was another groaning noise, and the glass door in front of us slowly began sinking into the ground. It made the darkness slowly creep open until light was flooding in. It was blinding and I groaned, covering my eyes before I even knew what was behind it.

I heard Nel stand and walk out of the booth.

"Finally," she mumbled to herself, then addressed me. "We're here, Helga."

Yeah, I figured.

My eyelids fluttered open and I strained to see past the harsh glare—

And gasped.

We were in a completely different space now. Like, totally different. Outside the door was an extremely spacious and open room. It was brightly lit, each of the walls matched the floor in an extremely pristine shade of white. A rectangular window almost covered a good third of the left wall and next to it was a plain door.

Slowly, I climbed to my feet and stumbled out of the booth.

Whoosh!

Startled, I whirled around, and realised that the door had completely vanished. Jaw dropped, I now faced a blank wall, that was practically glowing from its paleness.

"Um," I turned to Nel, who sat a couple of feet from me. "How are we supposed to get back now?"

"Really Helga, do you think I would allow us to get trapped down here?" Nel shook her head. "As long as you have that pin, you may leave. It's your form of identification."

I looked down into my pocket, pulling it open to peek at the pin. It was still there, nestled between the scrunched–up balls of tissues, with its eyes almost sparkling at me.

Swallowing, I examined the high walls with wonder; it seemed impossible that all this was connected to an ordinary looking phonebooth. Well, as ordinary as you could get for in the middle of the woods. The ceiling was so high; the walls stretched further then the length of my three–storey house. I wonder how far underground we even were . . .

"How'd you even get this place here?" I asked, turning back to the cat. It was a conclusion that didn't really make sense in my mind, but how else would this stuff be down here. It wasn't like regular people had built all of this.

"That doesn't matter Helga. What does is training you into a formidable soldier," she said, looking at me analytically. "Someone the people can firmly put their trust in. I will admit, you surprised me last night with how quickly you got the hang of your powers, but do not consider it as anything but luck. Compared to other Mutants, that one was relatively powerless. If you want to make it out of the fights to come, you're going to have to let me train you and for that to happen, you need to have complete trust in me, is that clear?"

The words slid from her tongue and her violet eyes became lasers. But, unlike the other times, they weren't full of anger, but of determination—hope.

Silently, I nodded.

"Good," she nodded back in response. "Now, transform."

Rolling my eyes, I gave a salute. "Right, boss."

She glowered at the name, and I grasped the pin tightly between my fingers. I stuck the spike through my shirt and an exhilarating feeling travelled through my veins, and I cracked a smile.

"My Inner Guardian: Exo—"

"You don't have to yell that anymore."

I paused, my hand awkwardly in the air, and looked at the nonchalant cat. She stared back at me, deadpanned, and I cleared my throat, impatient at having been interrupted.

"What?"

"That phrase," she said. "You don't have to say it anymore."

"Why not?"

She actually looked disappointed with my question. "Really, Helga, don't you think that perhaps suddenly shouting 'My Inner Guardian: Exorior' would look the slightest bit suspicious? It would bring an unnecessary amount of attention to yourself. Say it in your mind instead."

I huffed, rolling my eyes, but silently agreed with her. Technically, it would be foolish to do that, but still, she could have told me that before.

Clearing my throat, I punched my hand into the air again and thought over those words just as clearly as I'd said them.

My Inner Guar—

"Oh, and also," Nel chose to interrupt again, and looked up in thought. Irritation flashed hot, and I clenched my teeth together. "Now that you've officially named yourself, the phrase should become 'Blue Jay: Exorior . . ."

She looked ready to continue but trailed off when she noticed the look on my face. She paused, blinked, then slightly frowned with confusion. "Is there something the matter?"

I crossed my arms. "May I please transform now?"

Offense sparked in her eyes, and she huffed but relented a single nod.

Drama Queen.

Rolling my eyes, I punched the air above my head.

Blue Jay: Exorior!

A blast of warm, summer magic shot out from the pin and wrapped around me like a breeze. Sweet scents rolled over me as rainbows danced across my face. The magic waltzed across my skin like glitter. Sequins knitted together as my body lifted from the ground. I shut my eyes with a small smile. Time stilled but I could feel my clothes shortening, my limbs growing, and my hair curling around my shoulders. Light curled around my fingers like someone was holding my hand.

And then, it was over, and I was standing in the room as her.

As Blue Jay.

The overwhelming power that went through me was a river. It rushed and bloomed, feeling like hot summer skies. The honeyed feeling beaded across my skin. I couldn't keep myself from smiling. I felt amazing—dazzling. Light spilled out from my feet and spread across the floor in shimmering masses. There was a beating in my heart that I wanted to match; I wanted to turn around and run. I didn't know where, I didn't care. But I knew, wherever it was, I would get far. It was like I had woken from a thousand year nap, or I'd been injected with an awareness of the chains that had been wrapped around me, keeping me pinned in one place. But now, I had the strength to break free. I wanted to break free. My mind was racing so fast with possibilities that it made everything numb, and my blood thrived beneath my skin like it had wings.

Hair spilled across my shoulders as I looked down, clenching my hands into fists. There was a jolt that pushed from my fingers to my biceps, where suddenly, I felt like I could do anything. I could tear things apart, then put them back together. I could smash walls, throw cars, bend metal—anything I wanted.

These sensations, it was certainly going to take some getting used to. But criminy, who was I to complain?

A door slammed shut behind me and I spun around. Temporarily, I was taken back by how fast I moved, and blinked a couple of times. Right, I'd forgotten—Blue Jay's reflexes were much quicker than Helga's.

I pulled my attention back to the task at hand and realised that Nel had moved to the door next to the window. Slightly frowning, I crossed the room towards the window.

It looked dark, almost black, on the other side of the window. I could only make out Nel's head, poking up from the bottom, and the large chair she was sat on. There was a glowing keyboard, and her attention was so focused on running her paws along the keys, she hadn't even noticed my presence.

Raising my brow, I gave a swift knock to the glass.

She paused, looking up for a second and scanning my attire, before returning back to her typing.

"Hey, Nel!" I frowned. "What the hell? What am I supposed to do now?"

Nel threw me a displeasing look and reached over the keyboard to press a random button. Mechanical noises came from every corner in the room, and I spun back around. I don't know what I'd been expecting, but I was met with the same blank walls, and was prepared to turn back around to continue yelling when a beam of light zapped into existence from the other side of the room.

The light stuttered and shimmied, forming into the shape of a human. It was tall, with broad shoulders, strong limbs, and no facial features.

I was genuinely amazed and let out a low whistle. "Wow, impressive hologram, Nel."

It was like I'd walked straight into a Star Wars movie.

The figure threw its fists to its sides, pushing back its shoulders, then took off into a powerful charge. I lifted a brow, admiring its graceful movements. The way it moved, it bolted across the room like an Olympic champion. Each one of its might strides was worth at least two of mine.

It actually looked kinda intimidating. I crossed my arms, my heart twisting in my chest. Boy, would I hate to be on the receiving end of that thing.

. . . Wait.

The breath halted in my throat. Was it charging at me?

Alarm bells went off in my head when the figure crossed more than half the room and wasn't showing any signs of stopping or slowing down. Its featureless face was trained in my direction and never once did it look away.

. . . Oh, shit, it actually was charging for me.

"Criminy, what's it doing?!" I screamed, throwing myself up against the window behind me. "Nel, make it stop!"

She didn't respond—the dirty coward.

"Nel!" My shoes slid across the floor as I tried pressing myself further into the window. "Whaddya doin'?! Stop it!"

"I'm not going to fight your battles, Helga," I jumped when Nel's voice suddenly boomed from every corner of the room. "You have to learn to fight for yourself. No more running and instead taking a stance and—"

My hoarse scream cut off her microphoned voice when the hologram suddenly appeared in front of me. My knees were buckling, and I had to tilt my head back just to look up at its face. Jiminy cricket, how tall was this fucking thing? The figure drew its hand back over its extremely broad shoulder—seriously, those things looked like boulders—but before it could swing, I collapsed to my knees and covered my head with my hands. I didn't hear any glass breaking, but I could feel the vibrations when its fist smashed into the window.

Shit, fuck—this hologram was actually solid.

Clenching my teeth, I slowly looked back up and squeaked. The figure was standing over me, its fist still against the intact window, and its face had turned down to look at me. It didn't have facial features, but if it did, I could tell it'd be giving me an extremely nasty glare right now. The figure lifted its leg to deliver a kick, but I quickly scrambled between its legs and scurried away on my hands and knees.

Mentally, I was doing a little victory dance at my quick thinking but could feel a heated glare boring into my shoulders. My heart was throbbing in my chest, and I totally didn't want to, but I looked anyway. The hologram looked positively furious now, and again I squeaked. I didn't bother questioning how a faceless hologram could look so angry and instead scrambled to my feet.

I stumbled slightly—stupid heels—and let out a massive howl before sprinting off with the hologram hot on my heels.

"Helga, stop running away!"

I did not stop running away.

"You try fighting it then, you coward!" I barked over my shoulder, more than aware that the hologram was getting way too close. I tried urging my legs to pick up speed, but as it turned out, that was difficult to do in heels.

"Shit!"

My ankle gave out and I suddenly found myself slamming face first into the—

Thunk!

—ground.

Groaning, I rubbed my pounding forehead and cursed these stupid heels. Who the fuck designed this costume, Malibu Barbie?

The hairs on my neck shot up and I rolled over.

CRACK.

Heart in my throat, I slowly looked over my shoulder, and gulped. Hairline cracks had formed in the middle of the floor—right where I had been laying. The fissures extended like spiderwebs from beneath the hologram's large fist.

I glared at Nel. "You gave this thing super strength?! What the fu—WHOA!"

Before I could finish, the hologram had leapt at me with another bunch. I rolled away, swinging around onto my feet, but staggered again. These fucking heels—why were they so stupidly high? I couldn't do anything in them. Biting my lip, I tried throwing my weight onto my heels, and held my hands up defensively. There was a moment as the hologram watched me—well, I assumed anyway—before it lunged again. Grunting, I twisted to the side, and its clenched fist flew past my face. It glanced my shoulder and my stomach curled. I could feel its power pulsating through its hands. This thing could easily land me straight in the hospital if it wanted.

"NEL—"

The hologram's fist jammed into my windpipe and cut off my cry. I fell onto my side, grasping at my throat and hacking. I tried getting the air to flow back into my body and a blunt force to my nose sent me flying back onto my back. A throbbing encompassed my face and I blinked as spots shimmered across the ceiling. Since when did we have stars down here?

Something clasped my ankle and I was yanked, screaming, across the floor. The hologram dragged me into the air, dangling me like I weighed nothing, then began spinning in circles. The walls and floors merged into a continuous mass of white and my stomach jammed into my throat. I don't know how many times it had spun around but when the pressure around my ankle had disappeared, I was flying across the room.

"Craaaaaaaaaaaa—"

BANG!

And face first, I was sent into the wall.

I could feel Nel face palming from across the room at that. Hell, I'm sure even the hologram felt embarrassed for me. And I certainly was—embarrassed, that is.

Moaning, I landed in a pile on the ground. Painful waves wracked through me. Something wet dripped from my nose. Hesitantly, I reached to touch it when a burning sensation flared. I hissed and yanked my hand away.

Blood.

The wall was spinning. I pushed against it but didn't rip my gaze away from the blood along my fingers.

My head moved slowly in the hologram's direction. It hadn't moved and stood tall and powerful as it waited for me to make the first move.

I scowled. Okay, that does it.

I reached up to wipe the blood from my nose. It made a painful bolt flash down my face. Then, without looking away, I reached into my boot for my knife. The blade felt cold but secure in my hand. Seconds pounded against my skin. I swallowed then launched the knife. It hurtled in the hologram's direction, faster than lightning. The hologram was faster and managed to dodge it, giving me the opening that I needed.

The floors were woozy, but I bolted. The hologram's attention followed the knife as it clanged into the wall behind it. I leapt into the air and sent my foot heel first into the hologram's side. It stumbled backwards. I landed on the balls of my feet. Heat swam across my face. Tightening my fists, I launched into a defensive stance. The pounding in my chest filled my ears. The hologram mirrored my stance.

I glanced where its eyes would be then dashed forward. Twirling on the balls of my feet, I dug my foot into the side of its head. My hair hit my eyes and I growled, scraping it back, and struck again, aiming for the other side of its head. But the hologram blocked my attack with its forearm. I aimed a kick for its stomach but sensing my motive, the hologram's hand flashed and wrapped around my foot.

I froze—shit.

"Don't—" I began in a low voice, "—you dare."

Oh, but it did.

Tightening its grip, it twisted my foot sideways. I screamed, finding myself being jerked to the side, and threw my hands around like they were windmills. Then, the hologram heaved my body like it was a bag of rice into the air, and for a moment, another blur of white overtook my vision. My stomach entangled with itself as I spun in the air before I crashed back into the ground, head knocking against the floor.

I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut as everything spun so much that I wanted to puke. Why was this so hard?

Maybe if I laid here long enough, I'd wake up in my bed to the sound of my alarm screeching at me to get up because holy shit, I only had ten minutes to get ready and catch the bus.

A whistling alerted me of an incoming fist.

My eyes shot open and I rolled over onto my side. There was a thud! followed by a crack! from where it hit the ground. I landed on the balls of my feet as hair spilled over my shoulders like fabric.

Slowly, I turned back to the hologram.

It was hunched like a predator and slowly rose to its feet. I watched its movements stretch into a colossal figure that towered over me. I gulped. Fear sat cold in my chest. The ground trembled from its footsteps.

Somewhere along the way, I realised that I was shaking. It was to a point that it became harder to move. I couldn't even flinch as the hologram drew its fist over its shoulder to attack. My eyes snapped shut in preparation, waiting for the inevitable, but then, my body acted on its own. My leg swept underneath the hologram's feet and sent it to the ground with a sickening crack.

Something flickered in my chest. Where the hell had that come from? But I shoved that question out of the way in favour of getting the hell out of here.

Good plan.

I shakily climbed to my feet and attempted to run when something wrapped around my ankle. It gave a rough tug that sent me face first into the tiles. The pain that coursed through me was like a jolt of electricity, and instinctive tears popped into my eyes. My nose pulsated hot and blood spurted out, soaking the tiles.

Gritting my teeth, I kicked against the hand around my ankle but there was another tug, and I was pulled closer toward the fallen hologram. And before I could blink, its large weight settled onto my stomach and my shoulders were pinned back by its knees.

The blood continued to pour, over my lips and into my teeth. It swirled to the back of my throat and made me choke. A hand seized my collar and yanked me up, so the hologram's face loomed over my own. I gasped, unintentionally drawing in more blood that made me hack even harder. I tried wiggling my arms underneath the hologram's legs, but the weight had left me completely restricted. The most I could do was stretch out my hand and—

Wait.

My eyes widened.

That was it!

The hologram reeled back its fist again. But I focused on sliding my palm out across the floor, pointed at the roof, spreading my fingers wide. There was a tingling beneath my nails when—

Its fist suddenly lunged at me and I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut, and waited for the pain.

Shing!

Only none came.

My eyes opened. And then my jaw dropped.

The hologram's fist hung centimetres from my face, frozen in the air. I slowly traced my gaze from its fist up to its face. The entire figure had ceased movement, like someone had randomly hit a pause button, and now sat motionlessly like a statue on my stomach.

I rose a brow. Why had—

That's when I noticed the head of the hologram, or rather what was embedded in its head—my knife.

"Oh, fuck monkeys."

The hologram suddenly became fuzzy, blinking in and out of focus, before cutting out completely. The pressure on my chest disappeared and I sucked in a large and relieved breath. Something electrifying shot up my spine and I found myself sitting up, hand stretched out, and catching my knife by the blade.

I stared at the weapon in my hand before sighing and laying back onto the ground, exhausted.

My arms felt like they were on fire. The pounding in my chest pressed so hard against my back that it felt like it was smacking hard against the tiles. But the ground was like ice to my skin. I spread my arms out like they were wings. The knife tumbled from my fingers, but I didn't bother picking it up.

I just closed my eyes and enjoyed the peace.

Beads of sweat rolled down my face and my lungs felt like they would burst. A familiar pulse in my nose brought to my attention the metallic taste still in my mouth.

Opening my eyes, I reached up and touched my nose. It was a feather touch but that didn't stop the pain. It seared from the nostrils all the way to the back of my head, curling and radiating like boiling water.

I grimaced, pulling back my hand, and looking at the red on my fingers.

And like that, my exhaustion turned to anger.

"NEL!"

The ground lurched as I stumbled my way back to Nel's window. And that dumb cat actually had the nerve to look annoyed with me—annoyed. As if somehow, between my running for my life and being beaten to a pulp, I had managed to offend her.

Said offended cat sighed, pressing down on a circular button. "Yes, what is it, Helga?"

Of course, Nel would make it sound like it'd been me who had done something wrong.

"You dragged me here, to this ugly, abandoned forest—" I stopped outside the window. "—where I fell over—and I'm pretty sure I'm going to catch poison ivy—had me ride an unstable elevator and, without any warning, forced me to fight some freaky Star Trek hologram, which beat the socks off me—and before you say I'm 'simply overreacting, Helga', take a good look at my nose. I didn't get this from nothin'!" I gestured angrily to the bloody mess on my face and watched Nel's gaze stray from my eyes to my nose, then back down to her keyboard. "While you have the nerve to sit there—safely —behind your bullet proof glass and lecture me on your little microphone. And then sound angry when I'm even slightly annoyed at this?"

Nel glanced up sharply but didn't open her mouth with a response. So, I continued and threw up my arms for extra emphasis as I began to pace up and down.

"I mean, for criminy's sake! You didn't even warn me before you sprung that bloody thing onto me! I could've been injured, y'know! Hell, I was injured! You say I need to trust you but you're making it really freakin' difficult if you don't give me a little heads up once in a while! I mean, geeze!"

Silence hung in the air. Nel didn't respond right away, instead she shifted her face to the side with an uncomfortable look in her eyes. Panic flared in my chest as for a moment, I worried that I'd said too much. This whole thing, after all, was larger than the both of us. It wasn't about me anymore, it was about protecting my home. But my nose gave another painful throb, as if to remind me of my original point, and I quickly shoved those thoughts to the back of my mind.

I wiped away some more of the blood and glared at the black cat, waiting for her response.

Eventually, she sighed and looked back at me.

"Yes. You're right."

I nodded.

"I do need you to trust me. As I've said, trusting me will allow me to train you into becoming a soldier," her eyes hardened. I looked away. "Acantha's army is one of great strength and will be extremely difficult to defeat. And for now, you, Helga, are the only Guardian and therefore the only one eligible to defeat that army. That makes it you versus thousands, perhaps millions. Yes, my methods will seem harsh, especially given how little you know about combat, but you must believe me when I say that everything I teach you is for the best. Yes, perhaps I should've given you a warning as this is your first time and, for that, I apologise. But you cannot expect Acantha or her army to ever give you a warning either. You cannot expect kindness or courtesy from your enemies. They will not wait for you. You must always remain on your guard and ready to jump into the action—do you understand?"

At first, I didn't answer.

The air thickened until it had become a weight that threatened to snap my bones. I had glanced up from my shoes to look back at Nel.

"Do you understand, Helga?"

I blinked, my eyesight suddenly getting blurry. This was all so much to handle. I barely could even process her words. They were a whirl in my mind, melting everything into a soft, dizzying paste. But I forced myself to look back at her. Her eyes had hardened over her speech but when they met mine, they softened. She knew what she was asking of me—she knew the sacrifices that were required—but there wasn't anything she could do to make it better.

So, I nodded.

She nodded back and turned to her keyboard, typing. I wondered what it was that she was doing but decided against asking. There was something else I felt needed to be said.

"Nel," my voice was quiet, but I didn't let my gaze wander. Nel looked up in curiosity. "I'm . . . I'm sorry," I inhaled deeply. "F–For yelling at you, I mean. It's not fair, you're only trying to train me . . . none of this is your fault."

Her eyes widened. I couldn't blame her. In the short time we'd known each other, I'm sure she had put together that I wasn't one to regularly give out apologies. But nonetheless, she managed a small, grateful smile.

"Thank you, Helga."

Her voice was calm. But I had the feeling that she wasn't thanking me only for the apology.

I didn't understand Nel; not where she came from, nor what went on in her mind. But I didn't need to. I trusted her.

The corners of my mouth twitched as I nodded in reply.

Turning back to the keyboard, Nel pressed a familiar red button.

Low groans that I recognised filled the room and I turned around with a raised brow—

Wait, what?

I froze when my gaze landed on not one, but six glowing figures on the other end of the room, all glaring at me.

"NEL!"

---

"You know, you could've at least warned me before springing six more holograms on me, Nel."

Her tail was wrapped tight around her body. She sighed, rolling her eyes. "You're really going over this again, Helga?"

The ice was cool and welcoming on the flaming flesh around my eye.

"You're absolutely right, Nel," I scowled. "At this point, I'm just being selfish. Getting beaten by those six sci–fi freaks is completely my fault, isn't it?"

"If you," Nel began with exasperation, "had only been paying attention when that hologram had—"

"There were six of them, Nel!" The ice pack fell onto my lap as I threw my arms into the air. "Six!"

Nel opened her mouth to respond when a shriek suddenly cut her off—one that hadn't come from either of us. Together, we exchanged dreaded looks—we knew what that sound meant.

And quite frankly, I was annoyed.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?!" I shouted, threading my hands through my hair. "Now, seriously?"

Nel didn't share my annoyance at the poor timing and glared into the distance. Well, considering she wasn't doing any of the fighting, I couldn't say I was surprised.

"It's the enemy!" she said, standing on all fours. "Come quickly, Helga, it's time to put that training to good use."

I simply stared at her.

And when she didn't get response, she looked back at me, furrowing her eyebrows. "What?"

"You cannot be serious," I said. "I just spent the last few hours taking down six of your dumb holograms, and I have a black eye."

"You do not have a choice, Helga," Nel countered. "The enemy will not sit and wait for you. Given the chance, it will drain the energy of and kill hundreds of civilians. Do you really want that on your hands?" She watched me intensely, before looking at my eye. "Besides by the time we get there, your eye should have healed. Now hurry and transform!"

I sighed.

Looks like my day wasn't over.

---

The screams became louder the deeper that we ran into the city. They punctured the air and made the knot in my throat grow larger. At first, I could identify them belonging to the Mutant; the level of terror it unleashed on me could only belong to a creature like that. But at some point, it became hard to distinguish that from the horrified screams of civilians that were being attacked. And those screams were soon accompanied with multiple crashes and deep cackles. Nel was quick to locate the distressing scene in the heart of the city.

"Thank God," she whispered to herself as she peered around a bricked wall. I could tell from how quickly she scanned the area that she was making a deduction of the Mutant. "It's only a Mutant. And not a particularly powerful one either—oh, Helga, do hurry up!"

Why that little—

I shot her a dirty look and half-limped my way to her, muttering under my breath. You see earlier, because of these stupid heels, I'd taken a small detour and face-planted along the sidewalk—into someone's rose bush.

The thorns had scrapped across my skin so now I looked like a massive train-wreck. If the training hadn't been enough to knock Blue Jay's beauty from me, two-inch thorns certainly was.

Even worse, I now stunk of roses.

God fucking damn—I don't even like roses.

I gave Nel a final ugly look as I gripped the edge of the brick wall. Grumbling, I peered around to assess the situation for myself . . . and felt something shrivel up inside when my eyes took in the sight before me. Pulling away, I slammed my back against the wall and kept my stare focused straight ahead.

"Still," Nel continued, unaffected with my minor breakdown. She peered around the corner at the Mutant. "You shouldn't act too hasty with this one. It appears that its strength lies primarily in its arms."

Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

I glanced at Nel.

"I'm sorry," I frowned, "but how is this one not powerful?"

She glanced at me briefly then returned to watching the Mutant. I released an irritated breath but mirrored her actions and looked around the corner towards the roads where the Mutant wreaked havoc.

I recognised the road as the one that led to the city's shopping market. It was a perfect target for victims as it was a main road. Cars always snaked the pavement as people often stopped at the cafés on their way to work. Today was no different, as it seemed even more crammed than usual. But up ahead the reason for the commotion.

The Mutant was hideous, large and green. It had a wide, muscular chest and long, stumpy legs. Large, black pupils pierced from its bald, egg–shaped head and it had a full, sharp mouth. Its arms were vine–like and almost twice its size with four long fingers at the ends.

It totally looked like if Poison Ivy had been a dude.

I gasped. Poison Ivan.

Throwing back its head, Poison Ivan let out a howl as if it were screaming to the heavens that it was ready for a fight. I covered my ears and gulped. Fuck, I was going to have to fight that.

"How the hell," I glared down at the wincing cat by my feet, "am I supposed to defeat that?"

Nel's ears were pulled back in response to the Mutant's cries.

"You're going to have to find its weakness," she answered weakly.

I could've slapped her.

"Yes," I snapped. "Thank you so much for stating the obvious!"

Our attention was drawn back to the street when Poison Ivan's arms shot out towards a couple sitting in a red car. The couple managed to scramble away but the car was flung high into the air and landed with a tremendous crash on its roof. Glass scattered everywhere, and beams of sunlight rebounded from their edges.

"Helga, get ready." Nel said with a nod. "You're needed."

I hesitated. "But Nel—"

"Just go!"

Poison Ivan let out another terrifying growl as its arms shot out for a quivering man frozen in terror. He was crawled into a ball next to a car and his skin looked an eerie shade of white. The poor guy didn't move and only stared as the clawed hand flew closer and closer to his face. The hand was a few feet from him when he let out a horrified and cracked scream.

"Hey! Ass-butt!"

Poison Ivan froze. Its attention went from the terrified man to the voice. It searched for where that powerful feminine sound had come from.

Me.

Heart pounding, I stood on top of a car roof a safe's distance away from the Mutant. Sunlight flooded from behind me, I could feel the warmth sliding past my shoulders as the hazy glow surrounded the back of my head like a crown. Despite the situation, I couldn't contain the slight smirk. I had my hands on my hips and a shadow draped past me like it was a cape. I totally looked like a badass right now.

"Who're you?!" Poison Ivan demanded.

I made eye contact with the frightened man behind them. They had thankfully become forgotten by the Mutant, so I mouthed, 'Go!' But the realisation didn't catch up to him until I had nudged my head in a random direction. He shakily turned on his heel and sprinted out of danger. The Mutant either didn't notice or care about the escape as it continued to stare me down.

I cleared my throat and took a step forward. "I'm—"

But, as it turned out, lady luck was not on my side and (for perhaps the fourth time today) my ankle gave out. Screeching, I found myself sliding off the car and plummeting towards the ground.

Thump!

My cartilages cried out in pain and tears welled up in my eyes. Throbbing sensations assaulted my nose and I bit my lip to mask it. It wasn't the worst pain I'd felt today, but, with all the fighting I'd done already, it was certainly worse then what it should've been. My arms shook as I pushed myself up from the ground and sat on my knees. The world was spinning too rapidly so, with shaky fingers, I brushed away the tears from my eyes and sucked in a silent breath.

An awkward silence had taken place as I slowly climbed back to my feet. I could feel both the stares of Nel and the Mutant as they watched me stumble.

Flames danced along my cheeks; great, what a smooth impression you're making, Helga. Seriously, I can tell why you were chosen.

Shut up.

Planting my feet further apart, I placed my hands back onto my hips and turned back to the Mutant. Poison Ivan was still staring at me with confusion, no doubt questioning what it had just witnessed, but I chose to ignore that part. The humiliation wasn't worth it, I was still incredibly vexed right now.

You see, I had a personal bone to pick with this Mutant.

It had, after all, pushed back my time at home further into the day. Normally, I wasn't thrilled about being there but, after the past few hours of Nel's training, I've decided I much preferred it.

I took a step forward (and didn't trip this time—thank God, because that would've been ungodly humiliating) and pointed an accusing finger at the Mutant.

"I am Blue Jay—Defender of Justice and Champion of Hillwood!" I announced. "How dare you attack innocent people! As a Guardian, I will defend my people! So, on behalf of them—fuck off!"

The Mutant stared at me like I'd just pulled glitter from my pocket and sung it happy birthday. It didn't say anything, but its wide demonic eyes were glued to mine. Another uncomfortable silence swarmed like flies. This silence felt worse than the earlier one. I swear, I could actually hear crickets chirping this time.

I looked to the side and caught sight of a small ball of tumbleweed blowing in the distance. I rose a brow as the wind pushed the small ball to the other side of the road. Since when did we have tumbleweed in Hillwood?

My eyes flickered back to the Mutant when it began cackling. Its eyes met mine and it's laughter grew in volume. I couldn't help the irritation that hit me; of all reactions to give, it chose laughter? The Mutant doubled over, clutching its stomach, and let out another loud howl.

I frowned and crossed my arms. "Excuse me, Poison Iv—"

"I'm sorry—" It actually surprised me by not only apologising but also wiping a lone tear from its left eye. It covered its mouth with its long hand as if to rid itself of its amusement. I rose a brow as, slowly but surely, its laughter died. Letting loose a calming breath, it stood to its full height and regarded me with a smirk. "It's just . . . I can't take you seriously! With that f-fall—and the speech—gah! And I'm supposed to be afraid of you?!"

As the Mutant launched into another fit of laughter, I gritted my teeth in exasperation and felt a vein beginning to pop in my hands. I so very, very desperately wanted to hit this Mutant, but decided that now perhaps wasn't the time. Breathing through my flared nostrils, I forced myself to remain patient and wait.

Another few moments passed and the Mutant still hadn't stopped laughing.

Clenching my jaw, I decided now was a good time to retry my introduction.

"I—" I spoke with a deeper tone, one that was threaded with barely disguised anger, "—am Blue Jay. Defender of—"

"Yeah, yeah—I got it!" The Mutant interrupted, waving a dismissive hand in the air.

Reluctantly, I shut my mouth. It'd been such a good speech; one that I'd been repeating over and over in my head as Nel and I raced to the city. I'd even made minor edits and additions so I'd come across as a force to be reckoned with. A badass, if you will.

Perhaps I oughta write it down instead.

The Mutant lifted its shoulder up in a half-shrug and tilted its oval-shaped head to the side. Its eyes traced my form slowly, taking in my stance and build, before narrowing with warning. All signs of laughter became absent, and it let out a dismissive scoff.

From the corners of my eyes, I checked for any nearby civilians lingering about. I tried throwing my senses—sound, sight and intuition—to feel any presences stuck in their cars or hellbent on filming this. Everything read null and I held up my shaky fists to my face and glared at the Mutant.

"Heh," The Mutant scrunched up its face. "And they said you'd be difficult—as if. This shouldn't be more than ten minutes."

"They?" I repeated with a raised brow. "Who said—?"

Before I could finish my question, the Mutant fired an attack at me. It swung out its arms and, like ropes, vines were launched in my direction.

I dived for the ground and wrapped my arms over my head. I heard a crash from above me that left my ears ringing. Opening my eyes, I scanned my arms and legs for any injuries but came up empty (aside from those from the training session, of course).

I smiled. Thank god for my reflexes.

Looking up, the smile fell from my face when I caught sight of the gaping hole in the wall behind me. My jaw dropped—the size of the hole was large enough to fit Phoebe through it!

"You idiot!" I barked at the Mutant.

Immediately, I leapt to my feet and jumped out of the way, narrowly avoiding another intended death strike. I heard another crash but quickly bolted, yelling over my shoulder, "Your aiming sucks!"

Sprinting down the street, I could hear Poison Ivan's arms whizzing past me as it launched more attacks. I relied on my instincts and wove in-between cars and streetlights to narrowly dodge the strikes. Adrenaline coursed through my system as my legs took larger leaps. My blood felt like it was on fire, but I pushed my limbs to keep running forward.

Helga, what are you doing?! I heard Nel cry out, but I didn't slow. What did I tell you about running away?! You're a Guardian—fight!

Easy for her to say. She was watching from an alley without so much as a hair being touched. If I died, she could turn to the other Guardians, whoever they were. She had plenty to spare. But, for me, if I died, well, I died. There wasn't any coming back and I doubt my death would be quick and painless.

Still, a small voice spoke from the corners of my mind. You are a Guardian, are you not? What was it you said?

'I am Blue Jay—Defender of Justice and Champion of Hillwood!'

You're Blue Jay and you called yourself a defender and a Guardian. Is this what you call defending, running away?

Mind blank, I skidded to a stop. I could faintly hear Nel as she barked out orders at me—tell me to move, to look out, that I was an idiot for just standing there—but the blood that pumped in my ears was too loud. I was unable to move, rooted to the spot, but my mind was far off in the distance.

'How dare you attack innocent people! As a Guardian, I will defend my people!'

Not two minutes ago, I had spoken those words. Those words that had, for whatever reason, felt so familiar—so at home with me. I had declared my protection of this city, called these people my people.

'To me, Blue Jay represents a—I dunno—some type of protection?'

Phoebe.

My dear best friend. She hadn't witnessed the attack last night yet wholeheartedly believed in my abilities. She believed in me over the police and proclaimed me a hero.

Not only her—so had the entire school. They'd expressed gratitude and fascination with me. Today had been spent gossiping about the mysterious Blue Jay and her cool superpowers. They didn't know what that thing from last night was, but they still believed in Blue Jay's protection.

Surely, they must've seen something in Blue Jay—in me. Hell, Nel said that the pin had also sensed something in me that made me a worthy fit for the job. Perhaps there really was something that I couldn't see.

I balled my hands into trembling fists.

Fear curled in my stomach and gnawed at my gut. But I didn't allow it to show on my face. My eyes were steady; I was a Guardian, not a coward. It wasn't just me I was fighting for, it was . . .

A flash of blonde hair ran through my mind for a quick second. Squeezing my eyes shut, I shook the image from my head. No, he didn't have anything to do with this.

This battle was mine.

'You look at her and you think, 'Hope'. You think, 'I'm no longer afraid because I know that this woman won't ever let anything happen to me'.'

Letting out a small breath, I spun around to look the Mutant straight in the eye. It appeared surprised for a moment, its own eyes widening at my sudden movement. Then the corner of its mouth twitched before it sent a solid whip of vines bolting straight for me.

My nails were piercing my palms as I slid forward a hesitant foot. My body twitched with the impulse to run which, as the vines flew closer and closer, became harder and harder to resist.

Sucking in a small breath through my nose, I counted to three then let it out again. I shut my eyes and concentrated on the pounding of my heart. I blocked out the Mutant's cackles and Nel's distraught calls. My focus centred on my breathing and pulling forth any remaining strength I had. There was a powerful surge of something that rushed through me. It raced through my arms and sparkled at my fingertips.

Pushing forward another foot, I stretched out my arm, palm held up. I could hear the whip slicing through the air but forced myself to ignore it. Concentrating on the waves of power rushing through me, I felt something swirling in my gut. It travelled up my spine and vibrated along my arms in the form of goosebumps. I directed that energy to my palm where I could feel sparks nipping at my flesh.

Opening my eyes, I willed myself to form those sparks into a protective wall. One that would shield me from the Mutant's harm.

But nothing happened.

My eyes widened in horror.

The sparks at my palm vanished, and so did the feeling of immense power.

I was completely unprotected.

For a split second, I imagined myself outrunning it.

Spinning around, I'd managed to push a foot forward when something hot cut across my shoulder blade and sent me reeling forward onto my knees. Screaming, my hand flew to where the stinging resided. Thousands of needles erupted in my shoulder and I yanked my hand back. My stomach dropped when I caught sight of the red on my fingers. Looking at the concrete, I realised that it too was painted the same colour as my fingers.

Blood—my blood.

The realisation was ice cold. My powers—

Helga, run!

A stinging sensation ten times more powerful than the first struck my cheek and I felt myself flying through the air. There was a crash! as the back of my head bashed into something and a sharp crunch! as I landed on my stomach in a crumbled heap.

F–Fuck . . .

. . . there was a ringing in my ears—and I couldn't breathe. Something was pummelling in my chest. Strangled but shallow gasps for air surrounded me—or were they mine? Something was beating and it was loud—so loud it became intolerable and mingled with the sharp ringing.

A white-hot pain erupted from my shoulder. Fire speared both my leg and cheek, only it was worse in my leg. The slightest movement sent instant flashes of pain—I think it was my thigh. Something . . . something was piercing my thigh—why was it suddenly wet?

My eyes at some point had closed and I fought to keep them open. White spots danced along my vision. Blinking rapidly, I tried to calculate where I was—it wasn't in the streets. It was—somewhere inside. But where? Shapes surrounded me—shards of some sort. Shards of what? My vision was getting too blurry. I felt my head drop back down before I could figure it out.

There was something wet and sticky where I lay. What was it? Was I lying in a puddle? It wasn't raining. And it definitely wasn't water—it was too warm and thick. It smelt metallic and seeped through my clothes.

At the back of my mind, I heard something—no, someone calling my name . . . but I couldn't see them. No, I was . . . too tired. It was getting harder to . . . stay . . .

Fire suddenly flared up my thigh and my eyes burst open. I screamed in agony and twisted around to reach my leg. My gaze was blurry, and I had to stare for it to focus on my thigh—or rather, what was in my thigh.

A huge shard of glass.

My heart dropped.

The multiple shapes surrounding me were glass. They lay around me on the floor like tiny daggers. The light from the sun shone violently from them.

My eyes found the gaping window not a few feet from me. That's where they came from—the window! Looking around, I realised that I lay in the middle of a restaurant. One with pale tables and plush pink chairs. But it was abandoned—the owners and customers must've fled.

I suspected that it was smart if I did the same.

I tried crawling on my hands and knees but a sharp pain lanced through my thigh. I couldn't bite down on my lip in time to stop myself from crying out. My eyes fell on the glass that had sunk deep into my thigh. The flesh was flooded with blood, painting the white a darkening red. My body wouldn't be able to heal itself with that still in there.

Tears blurred my already wavering vision. My teeth were clattering so I quickly bit down on my lip to control it. Stop being such a baby, Helga. I whispered. It's like ripping off a band-aid.

Fighting away the voice at the back of my head that argued no, this is nothing like ripping off a band-aid, you idiot, I reached out a shaking hand. I grasped the shard tightly, ignoring when the skin broke and crimson slithered down my palm. Sucking in a deep breath, I shut my eyes and silently counted to three.

Now.

Pain. That's all I could feel—white, blinding hot pain. Searing fiery bursts pulsated from my leg. It was jarring—brutal. Tears spilled down my cheeks. Black swirled from the edges of my mind. There was a hoarse, heart-shattering scream and, with horror, I realised that it was mine.

My hand dropped the intact shard. I waited from the pulses to pass with a heavy chest, but they didn't. They spread further. I choked back a sob and clutched my hands to my chest.

There was a biting sensation from both my shoulder and cheek. My shoulder blade was wet and sticky. And something rose from my eye, I could feel it swelling. Touching a hand to my cheek, I realised it was a welt.

Tears dribbled down my chin as the reality hit me hard. This was real . . . all of this. This was all very real. Being a Guardian . . . wasn't about prancing around as a superhero. It wasn't about having millions of fans who believed in you. It wasn't about the cool powers or fun abilities. And it certainly wasn't about the talking cat.

Because none of that mattered. What mattered was . . . I could get hurt—I could die.

Footsteps—somewhere in the back of my mind, I could hear footsteps. But . . . where?

Biting my lip, I climbed back onto my hands and knees and began crawling. The sharp pain that flared up was almost enough to make me stop but I forced myself to keep going.

A low chuckling came from behind me.

"Didn't even last ten minutes," the voice sounded disappointed. "Seven, in fact."

I gritted my teeth but stayed silent.

Something smashed into the back of my skull and knocked me flat onto my stomach. Nausea twisted in my belly as the edges of my vision began darkening. My shoulder was dragged round so that I lay on my back, staring up into the Mutant's eyes. Its red eyes darkened and the corner of its mouth tilted up.

Its vines laced around my throat and squeezed. The Mutant's face loomed over mine—psychotic. My vision began to blur. I felt sick.

Nel, I thought weakly, I think this one you may have underestimated.

I felt my body leave the ground as the Mutant dragged me up into the air and closer to its face. The pressure around my neck became tighter. A psychotic grin stretched ear to ear.

The spots were getting bigger and clouded my vision. My heart was booming in my chest. Something brushed against my fingers—something sharp.

"It's a shame you didn't last longer," the Mutant's voice was taunting. "You were weak but certainly amusing. I'm sure my Master would've—"

I shoved the shard of glass straight into the Mutant's eye.

Instead of dark red, its eye socket pooled with a murky green that exploded onto my hand. Its remaining eye was glazed over in shock. The pressure from my neck was gone and I scrambled from its grasp, inhaling large gulps of air.

The Mutant blinked its remaining eye at me—and I leapt into action. Driving my closed fist into its eye, the Mutant fell to the ground in a large heap. I was on top of it immediately, straddling its waist. My fingers lunged for the shard and my stomach turned at the wet squishy noise as I yanked it from its eye socket. The Mutant screamed in agony and cupped its bloody eye. I clasped the glass shard in both hands and rose it high in the air. In a last attempt to save itself, its hands came up, spread across its face, and it let out another strangled cry. Its eye was full of terror, but I wasn't feeling particularly merciful.

The shard was clutched so tightly in my hands that my blood mixed with the Mutants. I let loose an animalistic cry as the shard fell and rose, over and over again. The Mutant's screams were swallowed by the third time it came down, but I barely noticed. The screams were replaced with a sickening wet thud every time the shard came back down.

All I could see was red. My body ached and cried for me to stop. My wounds burned in sync. The adrenaline was dying and now that the shard was out, thundering pulses from my thigh were becoming harder and harder to ignore.

Someone called out to me. I became aware of a tiny padding of feet—I counted two pairs. But I couldn't stop.

The shard kept coming down onto the Mutant's face, or what was left of it. There was too much blood, too much flesh. At some point, the shard, drenched in our blood, slipped from my grasp. Balling my fists, I threw clumsy punches. As my fists sunk into the flesh, I let out mad, strangled cries that only became louder.

I had to make sure it was dead.

Something knocked into my side and rammed me from the mangled body and onto the ground. Everything was spinning so much that I wanted to puke. I climbed to my hands and knees. My knife was at my side—I didn't question where it came from and quickly seized it.

"Helga—no!"

Nel leapt in the way and blocked my path. I froze, my hands stopping just an inch from her body. If she was at all scared, she didn't show it. She looked up at me with defiance. I noticed how deep her chest was moving and realised she was panting. But it wasn't out of exhaustion.

"N—Nel?" My voice was a whisper.

Her face composed but her eyes were sad—concerned.

"Yes, Helga—its me." She nodded and took a step forward. "It's alright."

My breath came out short and fast.

"N—Nel, it tried to—" my words faltered when my eyes fell on my hands.

Blood.

Green and red swirled together into a cloudy dark colour. My hands were covered in it. And my arms and clothes were splattered with it. I could only imagine how insane I looked.

The knife fell to the ground.

Nel stepped forward again with a questioning expression. "Helga?"

But my eyes weren't on her. Or my knife or even the mangled body. No, they were on my own trembling hands. The animalistic urges were gone, and my mind was reeling. Why had I lost it like that?

A small sob worked its way from my throat. I crumbled to my knees, my eyes not slipping from my hands—my bloody hands.

Nel moved closer and placed a soft paw on my thigh.

"Helga," she said it softly. Like she feared that being too loud would set me off. Make me shatter like the glass around me. "Helga, we have to go. The police—they'll be here soon."

I wanted so badly to tell her I didn't care. That for once, being a Guardian wasn't on my mind. I didn't want any of this—I didn't want to be a superhero. I'd just murdered someone in cold blood. Even if it was a Mutant, it still had a beating heart and flesh, just like me.

But I knew Nel was looking out for me—for us.

I could hear distant sirens ringing through the air.

I turned to Nel, who gave me a reassuring nod. I pushed back my shoulders and nodded back to her.

It was time for Blue Jay to disappear.

---

Buildings were lit in a blood–red haze.

Lights flickered from police cars and painted the street in copper shades. It twisted and pulled shadows back until they had covered apartment windows like dark cloaks. Crowds were forced behind barriers, but reporters had their arms stretched out towards the cops with microphones and cameras. From every direction, there were questions. Where was that girl? The one calling herself Blue Jay. Where had she gone? Why wasn't she answering any questions? Was she with the police? If not, did that make her an enemy to the people?

Sadly, I smiled.

How I wished to be them, oblivious. Demanding answers. What was more blissful, then ignorance?

"Helga," Nel's voice crept from behind me. My smile vanished, and the weight suddenly turned cold in my chest. "I . . . I think we should get going. It'd be wise if we went home. Your leg should heal soon enough after it's been washed."

Nel was right, I knew that. But I didn't tell her that, or anything.

The pain had dulled some time ago. It wasn't surprising anymore; becoming Blue Jay meant that things never lasted for long. I couldn't feel a thing anymore. Or maybe, I had just chosen not to. There was a part in my brain that was telling me that I was still torn up pretty badly. But it was like I was too tired and exhausted to even experience the pain anymore. Like the parts of me that were supposed to carry those signals to my brain had retired for the night.

So, I was stuck feeling nothing.

But Nel was right; even if I couldn't feel it, I knew I had to get everything taken care of. But for whatever reason, I couldn't force myself to go back.

It was funny; a few hours ago, I would have given anything to get back, but now, I couldn't bring myself to even move.

I suppose it was because I was too exhausted to pretend anymore. That place was full of people who didn't care for my existence. It wasn't warm and it wasn't soft. It was cold, hard and daunting. It usually didn't bother me—I had gotten used to that long ago—but right now, warm and soft was exactly what I needed, but exactly what I wouldn't be getting. I would instead be stuck in another yelling match with Bob over whatever it was I had managed to do this time. I had a house, but never a home. There was always something I had done wrong. And if there wasn't, then he ignored me entirely. I knew that it was actually a good thing that no one would be asking me questions, but right now, that wasn't what I wanted.

The wind moved through my hair and fanned out my curls to the side. I leaned back and pulled a leg to my chest. My injured leg dangled over the side of the building. Everyone was so occupied with their questions and harassing the cops, that no one spotted the answer to all of their questions sitting above them. No one saw the hero watching them from the top of the building.

"I guess this is it," I mumbled.

Nel appeared by my side. "Excuse me?"

I smiled.

"This is it," I announced in a voice that felt so strained, it was like someone was choking me. "This is my life now, huh?"

She didn't respond at first.

Instead, she watched the crowd harassing the police, and I followed her movements. I found myself watching a girl with blonde hair, tied back in pigtails. She was wearing her pyjamas and had a phone in her hand, eyes zipping between each adult. I felt something press deep into my chest as I watched her. I wondered if I would be like her had I not accepted this life. Would I be down there, phone in hand, and demanding answers? Or would I shrug with a roll of my eyes, turning my headphones up, and decide it wasn't my problem? What had I given up, taking that pin? Would I ever be able to get it back?

"I'm sorry."

I didn't move. I knew her apology was sincere—she was sorry. She didn't do what she did because she liked it; she was as desperate as I had become. And I wanted to forgive her. Like Nel had said, she didn't choose Guardians, she could only sense them. And given that there was only so much time, she didn't have the luxury or resources to ease her chosen into this world, she had to work with what she had, which wasn't a lot.

But at the same time, I blamed her.

It wasn't fair, I knew that. Nel was desperate. She wanted to save the world, like I did, perhaps even moreso. She was doing everything within her power to make sure everyone stayed safe. But I had really scared myself today. I had become a different person—no longer was I the hero, or the saviour. I hadn't even been Helga, who everyone looked down on and didn't expect much from. I wasn't a warrior protecting her city from danger. I wasn't the hero who fought for love and justice. Instead, I had fought with vengeance. Fear had overridden my senses until all that was left was instinct. It was like something in me had popped, and all the anger and rage I had been storing up exploded until I lost control.

I had seen myself shattered, in a way that had never happened before. Everything had been pumping. I hadn't been the city's superhero; in that moment, I had turned into something different. Something that scared me. I blamed Nel for it. She had been the one to contact me. Had it not been for her, never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I was capable of . . .

My hands twitched.

I could still feel it—everything.

I reached for Nel. She flinched. I wasn't sure why, whether it was the sudden movement after the long pause between us, or if it was me she was afraid of, but before she could help it, her body had seized. I ignored how that made me feel and laid my palm flat against her head. She looked up, startled.

I scratched between her ears.

She hesitated.

"Helga, about your powers—"

"I'm on my own now," I said, and tore my gaze away from hers.

My eyes found themselves back on that girl again. She had shoved her phone into her back pocket and was pulling her shirt tighter to her body. Her gaze flickered around and when her lip caught between her teeth, I knew she was contemplating going home. To her warm bed, with loving parents, possibly siblings, and a hot meal.

The feelings in my chest soured. Because suddenly, I looked at her and saw everything I had taken for granted. I may not have had her home, but I had those worries. Homework, getting a good night's sleep, arriving to class on time. Those seemed so small now and more than anything, I wanted them back.

I was shaking, I realised. Hard. My entire frame vibrated so hard that my teeth clattered. And when my chest tightened, I let loose a sigh—I knew what that meant.

"Um, Nel?" I cleared my throat and pretended my voice hadn't wavered. Keeping my eyes down, I feigned fascination with the crowd. "Could . . . could I have a moment alone, please? Y'know, to think and stuff. Got a lot on my mind."

My laugh wasn't fooling anyone.

Nel knew what it was that I was asking.

"O–Of course, Helga."

She hesitated then climbed to her feet. Her eyes were on me for a second too long before she forced herself to move to the other end of the building. She readied herself for the leap down the fire escape before turning back to me. I wasn't looking at her, but I could feel the worry in her gaze.

"Are you sure you want to be alone?"

Clenching my teeth, I forced a smile at her. But I didn't speak, I didn't trust myself to.

So, I nodded.

With another concerned look, she disappeared into the night.

And I was left alone.

The smile slipped from my face, and I turned back to the crowd. The siren lights swirled around them, lighting up their faces then leaving them in darkness again, over and over. I spotted another girl, cuddled up to a boy much taller than her. She had large and frightened eyes and when I looked at her, I suddenly remembered Phoebe.

'In the meantime, Blue Jay is our only defence.'

The pain moved in me like a knife, and I had to clamp a hand over my mouth. I tore my gaze away from the crowd like they had hit me, turning to the shadows, and felt something sting my vision.

'It's a scary thought, but at the same time, it isn't totally.'

That girl believed in me, so much. She had hope in me, despite knowing nothing about me. It was profound and so unlike Phoebe; she wasn't the type to throw out explanations and scientific equations for faith in the unknown. That just wasn't her. So, what was prompting her to do exactly that now? And how would she react if she found out I wasn't who she thought I was?

I wasn't a hero.

I had fooled myself into believing that maybe I could be, but I wasn't. Not if I was being honest with myself. Heroes didn't do that—act in anger, punish with violence. They saved people, not for any reward, but because it was the right thing to do. They didn't. . .

My gaze went back to my hand.

I rose it to my face. There was still blood caked beneath the nails. Tiger stripes along the back, no longer green, but a flaky brown now. The blood had dried, I couldn't bring myself to wipe it away. I felt like I was trying to hide something of myself. But now as I looked, I could see the trembles.

Balling my hand into a fist, I swung at the ground. Biting my lip, I held back a cry as a searing pain burst in my knuckles and lit stars in my eyes. For a moment, I sat there. Cradled my knuckles to my chest, held back whimpers.

A cold breeze swelled at the back of my neck, lifting my hair, and when I rose my eyes, I suddenly saw Nel, her words swirling in my mind.

'For now, you, Helga, are the only Guardian.'

Everything she had ever said suddenly crashed into me. That she had found and chosen me, that there was an army that wanted to take over, that I was the only one who could defeat it, and then, a colossal wave hit me again and I was blinded with an unstoppable rage. Throwing back my head, I struck at the floor. The pain burnt but I paid it no mind. I ignored how my knuckles burned and the sharp crunch! they made when hitting the pavement. I threw another punch, then another, and another, and another . . .

Punch after punch, searing pain shot up to my shoulders. I lost track of how many times I hit the ground. I was disconnected from my body. Everything became a haze. All I knew was that a face stared up at me from the ground, beneath the blood. Salt stung my face. I didn't know what face it was, it kept changing. The Mutant, Nel, Bob . . .

It was like everything had collapsed onto me. I couldn't run, I couldn't hide, I couldn't lie. I wasn't a hero, Phoebe was wrong. They were wrong. Except him, Bob. He was right. I was a screw up, I was a loser, I was a fake, I made mistakes.

This was a mistake.

'You cannot help but trust her.'

I was a mistake.

'Because she makes you feel safe.'

No. No. She was wrong.

'I am Blue Jay: Defender of Justice and Champion of Hillwood!'

Lies. I had been lying.

I didn't defend justice. I was never a champion of anything. I knew that; I knew that now. Heroes did what they did because they were good. They were on the side of righteousness. They had strong hearts, stronger morals. But that wasn't me. I wasn't the type to be chosen for stuff like that. I was what righteousness spat out like poison. I wasn't doing this because it was the right thing to do. I was doing this because I was scared.

I had accepted the role because I knew that I would get caught in the crossfire if I didn't. And I had been curious to know what it was that Nel had seen in me. I had always been the last choice my entire life. Picked last, forgotten about, looked at with disdain. I had been treated as the villain, but now, someone had actually looked at me and seen a hero. Had picked me first. I needed to know why, what was it she saw when she looked at me.

I wish she had left me wondering.

I didn't stop until my knuckles were torn and bloody. The sharp stinging was pushed to the darkest depths of my mind. My mission to keep the tears from running had failed. I tried to ignore it. Maybe, I reasoned, it would help wash away the blood.

Broken sobs wracked through my chest as tears streamed down my face. The walls that I had built all these years were torn away from me. Now, I was struggling to stand. I lowered my face until my forehead was pressed to the ground. I wasn't a hero; I was a failure. I did this because I needed to know that I was more than Bob's words. More than his failure daughter. Now, I was trembling. Covered my head with my arms. But I couldn't stop trembling. Even as I pressed my face further into the ground, hoping to disappear. I trembled.

I couldn't stop.

"Why?" I whispered.

My powers . . . I thought by now they would . . .

---

"—and, with enough practise and training, you should be able to hold up multiple shields at a time. Hopefully."

I gawked at the black cat perched on top of my bed. "Rewry?"

Nel rolled her eyes, unimpressed.

"Do try to restrain yourself from speaking with your mouthful, Helga." She wrinkled her nose as she took in the toothbrush sticking out of my mouth and the foam dripping from my chin. "You are not five years old."

I rolled my eyes and turned back to face my mirror. The cut on my lip had long since healed and my cheeks were back to looking normal again. Most of the bruises were on their way to completely healing. Except, I remembered with a frown, the lump on the back of my head. Nel said that would take a day or two, given the size, but it should be gone relatively soon. Her nonchalance had, of course, irked me to no end. She didn't have to go around with a lump the size of a fist on the back of her head.

Leaning over the basin, I spat out the toothpaste and rinsed my mouth out with water. After wiping my face with a pink towel, I strolled into my room, whistling a random tune, and headed for my desk.

I sat myself down in my chair but could feel Nel's curious stare and sighed.

"What?" I asked her flatly, raising my eyes to the ceiling.

"I must confess, Helga," Nel replied, oblivious to my growing irritation. What? This cat could bloody well chat your ear off! "I've only heard of Guardians with powers such as yours. I've never been there to witness them. Truthfully, I am a little excited to begin your training."

I looked over my shoulder. "Seriously?"

Nel nodded, looking actually giddy, which was an odd look for her honestly. "Oh, yes. I believe, if used wisely, your powers could aid you in becoming one very powerful Guardian. The possibilities could very well be endless."

Nel had my full attention.

I swivelled around in my chair to face her, unable to hide the grin spreading across my face. Crossing my arms over my chest and placing a foot on my thigh, I leaned back in my chair.

"Oh, really?"

Nel gave me a funny look but nodded. "Yes. In fact, why wait to discover what it is you can do? Try activating your powers—now."

Honey, at this point, with the pride in my chest, you'd have to physically restrain me from not activating my powers.

I leapt to my feet, eager to test out my new abilities. Of course, I thought, it couldn't hurt to prepare myself for the big show . . .

I began jumping on the balls of my feet and twisted my neck from side to side. Nel gave me an extremely worrying look and hesitated in even speaking. But she did, of course.

"Um, Helga, what on earth are you doing?"

I stopped bouncing on my feet and began rolling my shoulders while clearing my throat.

"Oh, just a few exercises," I told her.

Nel truly looked like she wanted to say something. But she instead ended up sighing and shutting her mouth.

Good choice.

A few more seconds passed before I deemed myself fit to test out my new superpowers. My heart raced with an untamed excitement. My mind was running a mile a minute, thinking of new and fun things I could do with my powers.

Clearing my throat again, I pushed back my shoulders and rose my chin. Sucking in a deep breath, I closed my eyes and mustered up whatever strength I could find that resembled what I'd felt not a few hours ago. Something tingly curled around in my stomach as the hairs on the back of my neck stood up straight. Sliding a foot forward, I thrusted both my arms in front of me . . .

And frowned.

Pulling my arms close to my chest, I shot them back out again, my palms stretched out towards Nel.

Nothing happened.

So, I tried again. Then a third time. And a fourth. By the fifth time that nothing happened, I began to worry. What the heck was going on?

Arms still outstretched, I shot Nel a questioning look. Nel herself seemed a little stuck for answers. She wore a hard look of concentration on her face as her eyes traced down my arms. I knew that, if she had hands, she'd be stroking her chin right now as if she had a beard.

That was a weird image.

Shaking my head and focusing on the current issue, I asked her, "Um, Nel, where the heck did my powers go?"

My response was literally a small 'hmm' noise.

"Don't tell me I lost them!" I responded, suddenly feeling very, very vulnerable. "I mean, that's not fair! I only had them for, what, ten minutes, tops? I almost died tonight, had it not been for them! How am I supposed to be a Guardian—"

"It's possible," Nel interrupted, looking up in thought. At some point during my ranting, I had begun pacing with my hands flying around me. I stopped in my tracks and spun around so quickly I almost fell. I was eager to hear any theories she had to offer. "Because your powers are mental based rather than physical, they'd be harder to control."

I didn't respond to that, but, looking up and understanding the confused look on my face, Nel continued. "Because your powers are reliant on your concentration, they'd be exceptionally more difficult to control rather than, say, something physical like enhanced speed."

I clucked my tongue; I wasn't entirely sure I liked that answer. "So, what you're saying is that my powers haven't disappeared, then?"

"What I'm saying is that, due to your powers being tied down to your mental capabilities, they're likely to be quite unstable at first. They may seem difficult but, once they come back, you should eventually learn to control them." She tried to sound sure of herself. But something in the way her gaze shifted told me she wasn't quite as sure as she'd have me believe. "In the meantime, we're going to have to work on your other abilities as a Guardian. With some training, of course."

I rolled my eyes. "Sounds fun."

Nel frowned.

"This is not supposed to be fun, Helga," she spat out the word like it were a disease. "This is serious. You're the only Guardian I've found and your powers are, for the moment, inactive. Though I'm quite sure they'll come back soon, we shouldn't just sit back with our feet up and wait for them to return. No, we should begin training. We simply do not have the time to relax with Acantha coming . . ."

As Nel continued to prattle on—stressing how important it was that I remained in 'tip top' shape and how we should began training as quickly as possible—I tuned her out. And that cat was such a chatterbox that she didn't even realise that I'd completely blocked out her nagging.

I held my hands to my face, palms up, and examined them. I'm not sure what I expected to happen, but disappointment hit me. Perhaps I had hoped for light to shine from my palms, as it had not two hours ago. That, like before, my powers would save me.

But nothing happened.

There was no light, no hairs standing on the back of my neck and no exhilarating feelings. Just my plain, calloused palms.

I swallowed. It was only thanks to luck that I had made it out tonight. The force behind that Mutant's punches could've killed me. And without my powers there to save me like they had tonight . . .

My hands fell to my side and blinked away the tears. Turned away from Nel, who was so wrapped up in her lecture that she didn't notice.

I would not cry—I refused.

There was no reason to act like a sissy. Nel said we would begin training tomorrow. I wasn't thrilled with the idea of basically running around in lingerie. But I trusted Nel. She knew what she was doing. She knew what she was talking about. This world may have been new to me, but it wasn't to her. Besides, even if my powers didn't return, I still had a lot more strength now. I was far from weak.

So, shaking the thoughts from my mind, I tried, for once, to focus on the brighter side. I was considerably more powerful when I was a Guardian. I could remember it now. Things were different when I was Blue Jay; strength pumped through my body. I felt so powerful and yet, I was light. When I moved, it was like I was floating, or like it was the world that moved around me, rather than the other way around.

Being Blue Jay—being a hero—it was exhilarating.

My mouth twitched into a small smile. Yeah, even without my forcefields, I was far from helpless. I was still a Guardian. I would still be able to take down Mutants.

Although, I'm sure that at some point, my powers would come back. They would spring back when I needed them, like they had tonight.

I nodded to myself—yes, they'd come back.

I knew it.

---

But they hadn't.

My eyes fluttered open to darkness. It folded around me, pressing into my body until I was choking. The sirens no longer flashed; the chatter had since stopped. Everyone had gone home. How long had I stayed out here? My eyes felt worn, throat dry. My body moved without permission; I uncurled myself to sit on my knees, wrapping my hands around my torso.

The shivers hadn't stopped.

My powers—they hadn't shown up today. They hadn't shown up when I needed them most. I'd almost died believing they would.

What superhero lost her powers?

Tears came fresh.

Was I even a superhero? Superheroes fought for justice, out of love and care. I'd fought with rage and anger. If that had been caught on camera, would Blue Jay still be hailed as a hero? Would Phoebe still believe in her?

Teeth grazed my lip.

But what about that man?

An image flashed through my mind; the man I had saved today. The one I had urged to get out of here. I blinked—yes, that was right. I had saved him. And many others. I'd saved many people tonight, that I couldn't deny.

That was my job now—as a superhero.

As Blue Jay.

The wind blew my hair as I stumbled to my feet. My fists were scrunched tightly so I wouldn't tremble. I crept to the edge of the building and peered down where so many confused individuals had stood before.

'I am Blue Jay: Defender of Justice and Champion of Hillwood!'

Those were the words I had spoken. I had declared myself the protector of this city, defender of justice. Whether I believed in it myself, that was what I had promised. I had to live up to it. I had to protect the people of this city.

The world.

It was true, this would be a regret I would carry with me. But that was not on them; my mistakes shouldn't become their burdens. I should have played safe, rather than jumping in without weighing the options, but I hadn't. I had danced with the devil and now I had to pay for it.

And now that I had done it, I would do everything within my power, with or without my superpowers, to save everyone.

But, a small voice spoke, who was going to save me?

---

Okay so now you have a firmer grasp on how I interpret Helga. She's a teenager with a lot of feelings and even more thoughts. Becoming a superhero did not make that easier. Helga always struck me as someone who would eventually begin to isolate herself from her peers. She carries so much guilt over how she treated everyone, as it reminds her of her father, and so, she keeps herself locked behind walls (which ironically, is also something her father does).

She also has perfectionist issues similar to her sister. Olga was made to feel like her identity dependent on being number one. She had to be faultless, otherwise, she was nothing. Whereas, Helga was taught that no matter what she did, she would never be perfect. There would always be someone better, someone more talented, beautiful, smarter. She would always be second best, if even that. So, it has led to her giving up on even trying (another reason why she isolates herself). It isn't that she never cared—or even that she could fool herself into not caring—but just that she knew she would never be the best, so what was the point?

MASSIVE THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED:

Yali. Page: Thanks for the review, darl! And, mmm, I dunno, we gonna have to find out. (althoughatthispointidon'tevenknow)

Elie: Thank you so much! Yes, Helga is by far my favourite character in the show, so it's gonna be a ball (and pain) to write her as the protagonist!

Nikki Pond: Aww, thank you so much! Yeah, superhero AU's are my favourite to! And don't worry, their romance will definitely be realistically slow paced, I'm not rushing anything!

Dhamariza:¡Aww gracias! Lo siento, si esto no tiene sentido, tuve que usar google traductor, jaja! Pero muchas gracias por dejar una reseña, espero que este es un capítulo satisfactorio!

Heather42190: Thanks, hon! Opps, that's embarassing - but don't worry, I went back and changed his eye colour to green. I have no idea why I thought it was blue, haha! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

0ToxicRose0: Tell me about, we need more Magical Girl AU's! But thank you for your encouraging review! I hope you liked reading this chapter!

Guest: Thank you extremely much, dear!

HelgaGeraldine: FINALLY finished this chapter - so wish granted! haha, thank you. I struggled with this chapter, but hopefully my writing hasn't lost it's quality, haha.