by Chara, Mina
“Well… I don’t know,” my voice trailed off, I didn’t exactly want to tell her I had a panic attack from walking through the streets.
“Is there something wrong?” Aya asked.
“No, I just got nervous, I guess,” I said and twiddled the cutlery with my fingers, wanting something to distract my over active mind. “There were so many people, I just, I guess I felt a little crowded. It’s hard to explain.”
“If you have a problem with crowds, that’s totally normal,” said Aya, “it’ll get easier.”
“I know, I know. But whoever heard of a superhero that suffers from anxiety?” I pulled the phone from my ear, Aya’s voice trailing off slightly, when I realized Ashley had been standing there for a while, ready to pour my drink. “How much of that did you hear?” I asked him.
“Most of it.”
I clenched my jaw, and set the phone back to my ear. “I’ll talk to you later,” I said and snapped the phone shut. I turned to Ashley. It didn’t matter, he wasn’t going to use it against me. After all he hadn’t mentioned the chest plate, boob fiasco. I wasn’t ashamed of people knowing I had some social problems, I was ashamed of not living up to expectation, and not being able to handle it myself. I wasn’t afraid of what other people thought, I was afraid of what I thought.
“I guess that makes sense,” he said as he poured my cola.
“What makes sense?”
“You having anxiety,” he said, like it was obvious. “You grew up with a nanny, right? Your file said you haven’t been to a real school since you were twelve. So I guess it makes sense you’d be nervous in a big city like this. Just take deep breaths, try to focus on something.”
Was he being nice again? “What would you know about it?” I asked.
“My Nana used to get panic attacks after she moved here.”
An old woman hobbled down the aisle of booths and waved to Ashley. “Xiao-Ley stop talking to your friends, I need help in the kitchen,” she hollered.
“Coming Nana!” he yelled back.
Before he could leave, I grabbed his sleeve, “Xiao-Ley?” I asked
“Xiao means little, Ley is short for Ashley.” A few other employees passed her some papers, and whispered things to her.
“Is this your grandma’s restaurant?” I asked.
He nodded cautiously.
“So that’s how you learnt how to cook?”
“Yes, Fitz, that’s how I learnt how to cook. How did you learn to fix things?”
“What’d you mean?”
“Your bike, my watch?
“I took over my dad’s company when I was twelve, that’s how I learnt.”
His brow furrowed, as though he didn’t believe me. “Why did you do that?” he asked.
“Because I didn’t have a choice,” I told him, “it was work for a living and pay for my sister’s education, or do nothing and complain.”
“You were only twelve,” he pointed out.
“I signed my dad’s name on forms,” I explained, “and told investors he was sick.”
“For five years?”
I nodded. “Sure, I mean, I’m not as good at it as my dad, but I did what I could.”
The silence stung for a moment, before Ashley’s grandmother came hobbling down the aisle. “Xiao-Ley, stop talking to your girlfriend and help me.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said, but his grandmother grabbed my hand and shook it without giving me an option.
“You’re the spunky one he talks about, yes?” she asked, “Friday?” I nodded quickly. “Good to meet you. Maggie, Meili, Ang,” she said pointing to herself as she let go of my hand.
“I’ll just let you finish then,” Ashley said, backing away.
“Now you want to help me?” she smiled and pulled him along to the kitchen, which was honestly, unbearably sweet. The image of an old woman dragging her six foot five grandson was undeniably cute.
The food at Maggie’s was some of the best I’d ever had. Ashley happily informed me after my compliment that he’d been the one to cook my meal, which shut me up, and forced a rarely seen smile onto his face that warmed my heart. As I was about to finish the very last of my meal and Ashley was refilling my glass, the bell on the front door rang. The moment Ashley saw the new customers, he dashed under my table, his head banging against the bottom.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he grabbed my leg and held a finger to his mouth.
“What in hell do you think I’m doing?” he whispered, “I’m hiding. Don’t let them see me.”
“What?” The idea struck me as ridiculous, “you’re too big.”
“No turning back now,” he told me.
Aya and David turned the corner as the hostess pointed towards my table, and they waved. “Hey Friday,” they said.
“Hi guys.” Ashley’s hand around my thigh tightened in warning.
“Ready to go to Power League?”
✰✰✰
“Power League was the serious version of Hero Colosseum,” Friday tells me.
“Hero Colosseum?”
“Sort of like a game show where superheroes fought with foam swords, and sparred using their powers. Power League was an actual sport, one I knew inside and out.”
“I’ve seen that!”
“Yes, it’s still popular today, I played once,” she says. “It was a lot of fun!”
“I don’t know much about it.”
Friday waves her hand in dismissal and smiles. “Don’t worry about it.”
“My husband watches,” I tell her, “but I don’t understand how it works.”
Friday sucks in a breath ready to explain, though I haven’t asked. “A team member is assigned to each area of the court and confined to their space, but, they also have to shadow the member of the other team that shares their position.” She takes a deep breath and continues. “You score differently depending on the goal. There are five in total, each getting smaller the further they get from the center. Three members on each team are allowed to score by getting the disk into one of the goals.”
“A disk?”
“Disk’s are easier to move with powers than a ball, more aero dynamic. Some people are excluded from using their hands. It’s crazy.”
“Why is it so complicated?”
Friday shrugs.
✰✰✰
“It’s quite an event,” Aya said, “there are thousand dollar gift bags, big name celebrities, and it’s a chance to wear something super pretty.” Aya was almost squealing as her sentence came to an end, and David accompanied it with a gentle smile.
“You had me at thousand dollar gift bag,” I told them, “no, wait, you had me at just gift bag.” I saw Ashley roll his eyes under the table, and gave him a kick.
“Everything okay, Friday?” David asked.
“Everything’s fine! So, is Ashley going with you?” I asked and earned another glare from Ashley for my pains.
“He might be,” replied David, “he said he had some errands to run before or something, so we’ll see.”
“Okay, cool.”
“So, you ready?” Aya asked.
“Sure.” I replied.
“Do you have anything to wear? We need to get you something.”
“Aya loves shopping for people,” said David.
“Isn’t it just a stadium?” I asked. “I was thinking pop culture T-shirts that say stuff like, ‘who farted’.”
“Well, I guess,” said Aya, “the guys usually wear shirts and stuff…”
“But not the women?”
“God no! Why pass up a chance to wear a couture dress? It’s a big event!”
She had a point.
“I’d love to get a dress for you Friday,” said Aya.
“You don’t have to,” I told her, “besides I’d feel like a chump next to the guys wearing T-shirts and jeans.”
“But, D’Fwan is the best,” she said with a giddy smile.
“Well, I’d love to come with you, after all, we
are team mates now,” I said, trying to get the whole idea of being part of a team.
“Exactly! So,” said Aya, “see you outside in a minute?”
“I’ll be there, just let me pay.” Aya and David disappeared, chatting, and as soon as they were gone Ashley tumbled out from under the table.
“What are you thinking?” he asked me. “Your anxiety’s so bad it sends you running through the streets, and you’re going to a power league game?”
“How did you know I was running?”
“I saw you come in,” he said.
“Look, I can’t let my anxiety dictate what I do, and besides I couldn’t say no,” I replied. “I have to go.”
“Why?” he asked.
“The investigation.”
He shook his head at me. “Fine, whatever.”
“Are you coming?” I asked him.
“To the games? No, I have a job.” I nodded, laid out the money I owed on the table and picked up my stuff.
Ashley slammed his hand down on the table blocking my path. “Oh, and Fitz, don’t tell them I work here. Second jobs are prohibited by Hero High.”
“So I hear. Why is that?”
“Because they want you to earn money by working in the cafe, and selling autographs,” he explained. “It’s all about making you sell yourself.”
“Oh. I work in the Cafe.”
He paused. “They make you wear the uniform?”
“Yeah, why?” I prodded.
“No reason. Just, don’t tell anyone I work here.”
“I won’t,” I snapped.
“Good,” he said.
“Right,” I agreed.
“Fine,” he added.
“Fine,” I agreed as we shot each other another glare, and I left.
As soon as I stepped out, Aya turned round on her heel and took me by the arm, leading me over to a company van. The inside was smaller than Lisa’s or the captain’s, but still big. It was nicely furnished with accents in gold, the team’s color. On the wall hung a portrait of each member. Aya clambered into the front, and tapped the driver on the shoulder.
“Can you drive us to Duff’s?
“Certainly Ma’am.”
Aya smiled to me from the other side, and proceeded to show me all the other things she had bought today. My phone twinkled with light, and I opened to a text from Veronica, that said.
Heard you’re going to Power League, wear a dress, don’t embarrass the team.
I sighed.
“Don’t worry you’ll be in great hands!” Aya squealed.
The van stopped after a twenty minute ride, and Aya threw open the doors. Outside was a large department store with the name, ‘Duffs’ overhead. Thin posters hung from the inside of good looking people fake laughing at each other. My stomach twisted, maybe Ashley had been right, maybe this was a mistake, but I was there, and I didn’t want to disappoint Aya. I stepped out, and let her and David escort me in.
The store looked like the kind of place where a T-shirt sold for a hundred dollars or more. I was wearing a jumper with a picture of a cat in a space helmet. Personally I loved the jumper, the cat, the helmet, in fact, the whole thing, but something told me people here wouldn’t feel the same way. An elegant slender woman danced over to us in what must have been one of the store’s gowns, and turned to Aya. “Can I help you today Miss?”
“Yes, we’re from Hero High. My friend is looking for a dress to wear to the game tonight.”
“Right this way.” The woman placed her hand on my back and steered me towards a changing room. She closed the door behind me and waved over a man with filed nails and baby smooth skin. “Get her measurements please, D’fwan.”
“Of course, sugar.”
“And I’ll go pick out something for you, Miss?”
“Fitzsimmons,” said Aya, “Ms. Fitzsimmons.”
“I’ll be right back, Ms. Fitzsimmons.”
D’fawn measured my shoulders, chest, waist, and finally hips. He looked up at me from the floor with pursed lips. “Girl, you are short.” I shrugged and he smiled. “So am I. Own it.”
“D’fwan?” I asked, not sure if I’d heard the name correctly.
“Yes sugar?”
“Are the Power League Games very formal?” I asked.
“They’re not black tie, more cocktail.”
I stared at the wall for a long time, not thinking to use my power to waste less of these people’s time. Eventually D’fwan interrupted. “Do you wear formal often?”
“Frilly dresses when I was a kid,” I replied honestly. “Since then, not so much.”
He chuckled to himself, and flung his tape measure over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ve got you.” D’fwan snapped his fingers and someone rushed out to get me a drink, and he turned me to face the mirrors. “I saw you on TV, well, on the jumbo screen anyway. What you did was real brave.”
“Thank you,” I said, surprised to be recognized, “I was terrified.”
“I’m not sure the blonde one, and uh, the lady. I’m not sure they would have found that bomb if it weren’t for you.” I smiled at him, and he nodded my way.
The woman returned with several short dresses that nearly made my eyes pop at the length. Carol and D’fwan looked me up and down, deciding if I needed anything else.
“Are you wearing anything under your sweater?” said Carol.
“A vest. Why?” I asked.
“Can we see it?”
“I suppose.” I pulled my sweater off in the least awkward way I could muster, and left myself in my vest.
“Turn, sugar.” I turned as D’fwan asked me.
“She won’t fit into the…” even though he didn’t finish his sentence Carol nodded before doing the same thing.
“We should get the ones with the…” D’fwan nodded to her, like they could read each others minds. Carol left, taking away some of the dresses she’d already brought in, and D’Fwan pulled in some nice shoes. In a few minutes Carol returned with three new dresses.
D’fwan shoved everything into my arms as someone set a drink on the table in front of me, and D’fwan told me to change. The first one was cream, embroidered with beads of a slightly lighter shade, and accented with blue ribbon. It looked very regal and proper, its puffy skirt hitting a little below the knee. Carol and D’Fwan said they both liked it, but it looked more garden party than city social event, so I took it off. The second one was black, with thin sparkling lines that reminded me somehow of the silhouette of a tree. This looked like the shortest, because it had two skirts. It made the skirt look like it faded from clear to opaque, only covering the very top of me. Carol and D’Fwan loved it, but eventually sighed, saying it was too nightlife. Carol handed me the last dress, and a pair of pointed toe heels that made me nervous.
“The trick to those shoes is holding onto someone,” Carol said as she handed them off. The last dress was a royal blue and stark white, vertically striped on the skirt, and then moving diagonally up the front. It didn’t scream attention, and it wasn’t beaded, so it wasn’t as showy as the others, but it was perfect for the occasion, or at least that’s what Carol and D’Fwan said. The only thing that made me nervous about it was the triangular shaped hole in the back, clearly cut to complement the diagonal lines.
“Why does there have to be a hole?”
D’fwan sighed as he tipped his hip. “It’s not a hole, it’s an open back. If you don’t wear an open back, none of these dresses are gonna look right.”
I nodded, and looked down at my shoes. “And what about these?”
“Pointed toe looks expensive, never wear round toe. Like Carol said, hold onto someone.”
“Can I hold onto you until I get out?”
“Course you can.” D’fwan waved his hand at me as though it was nothing, and Carol mussed up my hair the best she could. I stepped out, with my hand on D’fwan’s shoulder to Aya and David in a heated conversation. Aya had already picked out a dusty pink dress, and David looked like he was g
oing to be one of the few men who wore a suit for the occasion. The two looked me up and down and nodded.
“Looks good. Not very you, and I would fix that if we had time.”
“It’s okay, but, it’s kind of cold, can I have a jacket?”
Carol wandered off, and brought back a powder blue jacket that I put on quickly.
“You’re wearing a suit, David?”
“Sure,” David said with a smile, “it’d look a bit odd if my girlfriend showed up dressed to the nines and I didn’t.”
Aya pulled out a gold card bearing the words ‘Hero High’, and used it to pay.
“You come back now!” said D’fwan and I waved, hoping they’d remember me when I returned another time.
I called Jake to be my ‘plus one’, and he showed up to the team bus in what he called formal attire; jeans, top, sneakers, and a suit Jacket. The suit jacket was the formal part. It was about the same as everyone else who’d shown up. Just as Aya had said, only the women and a few select men, had put on formal attire for the big game. The sun had started to set, so as we all stepped out, the photographers tried to get as many pictures as possible. Aya linked her arm with mine as though she were my date. She had no idea how grateful I felt until I wondered, was she using me for balance, just like I was using her? Her dress looked like she was wearing a peony. Jake pried us apart and wrapped an arm around each of us.
“Two beautiful ladies on my arm, sorry, arms,” he said, looking smug. I wanted to punch him right then and there, but I just shook my head and David unwound Jake’s arm from Aya, acting as her escort instead. We all walked down the gold carpet and through the thick glass doors of the stadium. The walls were covered in posters, illuminated by a rainbow of lights, while moving walkways helped patrons from one side of the stadium to the other. Men and women dressed as old and new superheroes littered the halls handing out gift bags, and free stuff in general to everyone who’d come. A few of the posters were dedicated to specific players on the championship teams. Trays of champagne passed through the crowd while a bartender mixed drinks as fast as he could and with just the right amount of flare. Some started the call for seats. Other heroes and celebrities had reserved booths, and fans who had paid for their tickets a year or more in advance were sitting in the bleachers.