by Lisa Yee
“We all make mistakes,” Supergirl called to Barda as she and Batgirl followed the girl down the hall. “But you’re turning your life around. I admire that!”
“You’re probably the only one,” Barda said. She crossed her arms and leaned against her locker, glaring at the passing students as if daring them to say something.
“Everything okay?” Hawkgirl asked, landing in front of them.
“We’re fine,” Supergirl assured her.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Batgirl told Barda. “You’ve been a great help teaching me fighting techniques. Don’t listen to people like Star Sapphire and Cheetah. They don’t know you.”
“No one knows me,” Barda said glumly. “I hear what they’re saying about me. It’s no big deal.”
Batgirl and Supergirl watched her walk away again, neither knowing what to say.
“Trust absolutely no one,” Katana warned as Batgirl kicked and punched the deadly aliens. They were all claws and teeth and made of hard rubber and steel. Katana pressed a button and a stun beam shot out of their eyes. Batgirl ducked. “Your opponent can never be underestimated,” Katana continued. “You must always be on guard.”
“What do you mean?” Batgirl asked.
“This!” Katana said, leaping up and bringing Batgirl down.
“Oof!” Batgirl cried. “Katana! Please remove your knee from my stomach!”
“Sorry!” Katana helped Batgirl up, then powered down the test aliens. She had to return them to the gym soon. Students were only allowed to check out robot adversaries in two-hour blocks. “I’m just saying that in battle, you have to be constantly aware. Never be complacent.”
“You okay?” Supergirl asked, rushing toward them. She brushed some grass off Batgirl’s costume. “Do you want to go to the school hospital? Do you need a bandage? Some water? A mint? Katana! Why did you do that?”
“I was just making a point,” Katana said, flashing a no-nonsense smile. “She’s fine. Batgirl’s tough.”
“I am fine!” Batgirl insisted. “Just not quite as indestructible as you, Supergirl.”
A golden jar flew toward them. Batgirl could make out a tiny Bumblebee carrying it. Her friend grew to her full size. “For you!” she said, handing the jar over. “It’s fresh honey—all-natural and delicious!”
Supergirl smiled. “Bumblebee knows the best places to get honey!” she said approvingly. “Be sure to eat this, Batgirl. And get enough rest. And exercise. Not just your mind, but your body as well, and…and…”
Batgirl knew Supergirl was just trying to be helpful—her fretful tendencies had come back full force as soon as Batgirl had agreed to be on TV. Supergirl was practically as overprotective as Batgirl’s father, but at least she was more talkative.
“…and don’t worry,” Supergirl was saying. “You’ll do fine. Try not to freak out. Don’t sit around thinking Am I good enough? Am I smart enough? What if I mess up on live TV in front of millions of viewers? What if…?”
Batgirl gave her best friend a hug. It was one way to bring her back to reality. Because the truth was, Batgirl was freaking out.
As the Super Friends made their way to Capes & Cowls Café, they were all chatting and laughing and goofing off. Bumblebee was doing air ballet while Harley video-recorded her. Supergirl and Wonder Woman took to the sky to play hide-and-seek among the tall buildings, stopping midair to wave to the surprised office workers. Katana gracefully went through the motions of fighting imaginary ninjas. And weeds and flowers bloomed in Poison Ivy’s wake. Everyone was having a great time, though Batgirl remained deep in thought—until she heard someone cry, “Save Rainbow!”
Before the last syllable was uttered, Batgirl shot her grappling gun. With the wire embedded into a thick branch, she easily hoisted herself up the tree. Within moments, she was cradling a calico cat in her arms.
“Rainbow is safe!” she assured the boy looking up from the ground.
The other Supers surrounded him, and he greeted them by name. “Hey, Wonder Woman! Hi, Supergirl! I like that flower in your hair, Poison Ivy. Katana, show me how to kick down a door!”
As Batgirl placed Rainbow in his arms, Harley looked into her video camera and reported, “Another super hero, another Rainbow rescue. It’s almost a rite of passage that whenever there’s a new Super in town, they have to rescue Rainbow!”
Harley zoomed in on the cat, which stared smugly at the camera and purred.
Batgirl thought she saw the cat wink. But no…impossible.
At the café, Steve Trevor was wiping down the tables. He froze when he saw Wonder Woman, and she did the same, causing Batgirl to bump into her and Supergirl to bump into Batgirl, squashing her between the two Supers.
“Batgirl, are you okay?” Supergirl said.
“I’m fine,” Batgirl said, catching her breath.
“Well, they’re not,” Katana noted, pointing to Wonder Woman and Steve, who were still staring at each other in total silence, unaware that there were other people in the room.
“What?” Bumblebee asked. “What did I miss?”
Batgirl couldn’t answer. Her thoughts were elsewhere. Her father was at the counter, holding a cinnamon doughnut in one hand and a tall cup of coffee in the other. But since she was still living at home, she thought it best to keep her normal identity on the down low. Here, she was Batgirl, not Barbara Gordon, daughter of Police Commissioner Gordon.
Commissioner Gordon smiled and waved at the heroes-in-training. He and Batgirl exchanged an additional nod, and then he walked out of the café, not even stopping to say hello.
Later that night, Batgirl put the dishes in the dishwasher. She had souped it up and reconfigured it so that it took less than three minutes to wash and dry everything. With that done, she was settling down to do her homework when the doorbell rang.
“Barbara, I’m on an important call. Can you get that?” her father yelled from his study.
Batgirl opened the door. “Beast Boy!” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“This,” he said, holding out a box.
“What’s in it?” she asked, closing the door to her father’s home office to give him privacy.
Beast Boy gently set down the blue shoe box. There were holes punched in the sides of the cardboard. “Someone left this outside the main entrance to the school. It has your name on it.”
Gingerly, Batgirl lifted the lid.
“A baby bat!” she exclaimed. “It’s so tiny!”
“It’s injured,” Beast Boy said, looking worried. “There was this, too.” He handed her a sealed note, which she tore open.
“ ‘Dear Batgirl,’ ” she read out loud. “ ‘Please take care of this little one. She is an orphan and needs a good home.’ ”
“Who’s it from?” Beast Boy asked, peering over her shoulder. He smelled like the root-beer candies he was always munching on.
“There’s no name on it,” Batgirl said, examining the paper. She folded it up and slipped it in her pocket, then turned back to the bat. It was hardly moving.
“Listen, I want to stay,” Beast Boy said. “But I have to get back to school before Waller finds out I’m missing. There’s no way I want to do detention again. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?”
Batgirl nodded, then rushed the box and the baby bat into her room. She didn’t want to give her father something else to disapprove of.
Once she was alone, Batgirl looked at the bat. It was adorable, with its little wings and sweet face, its body no bigger than a strawberry. The soft blanket of gray-brown fuzz covering it made it look like a tiny stuffed animal. Batgirl logged on to her computer, then typed in How to Care for Your Bat.
Quickly, she fetched a soft face towel to line the box with. The bat was probably feeling vulnerable and would want something to snuggle in and hide under. Then she got a small bowl from the kitchen and filled it with water. But the bat wouldn’t drink. Batgirl filled a straw with water, and with her thumb covering the top of it, she let go of
one drop of water at a time into the bat’s mouth.
Batgirl did this again and again as the bat drank eagerly. It was dark outside, but Batgirl drew the curtains in her room so that when the sun rose in the morning, the light wouldn’t disturb the bat. Then she placed a hot-water bottle in the box to keep the baby warm.
While the bat slept, Batgirl built a comfy portable carrier for it. Since the baby bat would need constant care, Batgirl knew she needed to be close to it day and night. She tried different materials, settling on a heat-resistant plastic to regulate the bat’s temperature. After lining the plastic with featherlight cushions, she fashioned a tiny water dispenser with a tube for sipping. Finally, she added a small camera inside so she could monitor the bat even when it was in her backpack.
Beast Boy was waiting for Batgirl when she got off the bus. “Is she okay?” he asked. Batgirl nodded. “What’s her name?” The mischievous sparkle in his eyes complemented his green skin.
“I haven’t decided yet,” Batgirl said. She held her backpack close to her. The baby bat was nestled safely inside. Still, she was cautious. Batgirl was always cautious. She grabbed Beast Boy’s arm, and they ducked into the school library.
“Can I help name her? Please, please?” Beast Boy begged. “I found her. I should be able to help. PLEASE!”
“Sure,” Batgirl said.
“Please, please, please?” Beast Boy went on. “Puh-leeeeze!!!”
“Are you not listening?” she asked. “I said yes.”
An impish grin lit up his face. “Well, all right, then!” He looked left and right before lowering his voice. “Batgirl, you do know there’s a no-pets policy here at Super Hero High, right? That is, unless the pet in question has been approved by the PRC—the Pet Review Committee.”
She nodded. She did know that. However, she also knew that the PRC took ages to approve a pet, and the bat needed a home now. Batgirl didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize her standing as a student at the school, but the baby needed her, and she had been brought up to believe that one should always help those in need.
“The bat isn’t a pet.” Batgirl was thinking out loud. By now they were in her Bat-Bunker. She dimmed the lights, and Beast Boy cradled the baby in the palm of his hand. “She’s an orphan,” Batgirl continued. “It’s like I adopted her. She’s family!”
Beast Boy perked up. “That’s good. She’s not a pet—she’s a family member. So how about calling her Family Bat?”
“No,” Batgirl said. Now it was her turn to hold the baby. It looked at her with its big eyes. “How about Baby Bat?”
“No,” Beast Boy said. “How about Baby Batty?”
“I like that!” Batgirl exclaimed. “Or we could just call her Batty for short!”
The two friends grinned and gazed at Batty, who couldn’t help looking adorable.
“You have a baby bat?” Supergirl asked. Her eyes widened. “Can I see?”
“No one can know,” Beast Boy said as Batgirl lifted the lid of the carrier. Both looked around the library to make sure no one was watching them.
“It’s adorable!” Supergirl squealed as the little creature took flight.
Batgirl blushed, proud as a mama bat. “Her name is Batty.”
“Excuse me, but that isn’t an unapproved pet, is it?”
The three turned to find Hawkgirl taking out her hall monitor detention-slip pad even though it was an hour before she went on duty.
“Bat? What bat?” Supergirl said. “Bat? There’s no bat here. Rat, did you say rat? Eek! A rat!”
“You know there’s a No Unapproved Pets rule here,” Hawkgirl said, still looking around for a possible perpetrator. “As hall monitor, I am going to have to report this.”
“We’re not in the hall,” Batgirl pointed out.
Hawkgirl hesitated. “Yes, well…”
Just then, the baby bat flew in front of her, then around and around her, and then…
“Hi, Hawkgirl!”
Supergirl laughed and Batgirl tried to suppress a grin. This bat was green.
“Oh! H-hey, Beast Boy,” Hawkgirl stammered as he smiled at her. “You’re not a pet.”
“Duh,” Beast Boy said. He winked at Batgirl, who was frantically looking around the room for little Batty.
“Hey, Hawkgirl,” Supergirl said, leading her out of the library. “Did you hear Red Tornado has assigned flights and flips in Flight class?”
Batgirl exhaled a sigh of relief. After a quick search, she found Batty sleeping peacefully near a pile of books. She was so small, it was hard to see her. “Thanks, Beast Boy,” she said as the two gazed at Batty. “You were amazing.”
“You are so right,” he agreed.
“Hi, Dad,” Batgirl called before rushing into her room. She took the small box from her backpack and opened it, cuddling Batty for a moment before setting her inside the darkened closet.
“Barbara,” her father called back. “Come here, please.”
Batgirl made sure Batty was safe and then ventured into the kitchen. Garlic and onions were sizzling in a pan. Her father was wearing a #1 Dad apron she had given him one Father’s Day. Even though it was old and worn, he refused to get rid of it.
“Chicken à la Gordon and Gordon?” Batgirl asked.
He nodded. That was a joke between the two of them. Both loved his fried drumsticks, rolled in smashed Golden Goodie Flakes cereal, then fried up crispy and crunchy and seasoned with salt and pepper.
“Barbara,” her father asked, turning up the heat. “Is there something you’re hiding from me?”
Batgirl gulped. “What do you mean?” she asked.
How was it that her father always sensed when she was trying to get away with something? Batgirl knew for a fact that he wouldn’t approve of Batty. When she’d wanted a dog, he said no. When she’d wanted a snake, he said no. When she was four years old and had wanted a tiger, he said no.
“I noticed that you’ve been somewhat secretive,” he said as he gently laid the drumsticks in the skillet. They made a hissing sound when they hit the sizzling oil. “You aren’t hiding something? I saw you and Beast Boy looking like you were up to something.”
Batgirl watched the drumsticks turn a golden brown. She took a big breath. “Dad,” she said. “There’s something I need to tell you….”
Commissioner Gordon turned down the heat on the stove. He placed the chicken drumsticks on a paper towel to blot the oil. Then Batgirl transferred them to a platter, setting some aside for leftovers. (Cold fried chicken was a good midnight snack when studying late.)
“Well?” her father said as the two sat down for supper. He took a long drink of water. “What do you want to tell me, Barbara?”
Batgirl piled a scoop of mashed potatoes on her plate. “You asked me about the box?” she reminded him. “Well, I just wanted to tell you—there’s nothing in it.” That was true. There was nothing in it…at that very moment. Batgirl held her breath.
Commissioner Gordon’s eyes narrowed. Batgirl knew he was an expert at interrogating criminals. But she wasn’t a criminal. She was trying to save something.
“All right, then,” her dad said, helping himself to the green beans. “I was just curious.”
She exhaled.
“Was there anything else you wanted to say?”
Barbara wasn’t sure what her father would think of the TechTalkTV invitation. He’d probably veto it, she thought. Commissioner Gordon always said that the only TV worth watching was the news.
“Well, I’ve been invited to be on a game show…well, not a game show, but a show about high tech, where the world’s best compete,” she said in a rush.
“Barbara!” her father said, setting down his fork.
“Yes?” she said hesitantly, holding her breath.
“That’s great!” he exclaimed.
“It is?” she asked.
“Why, yes. This could lead to new opportunities for you. You could meet some techy contacts who can ultimately help you secure a
job! Imagine that: Barbara Gordon, high-tech businesswoman. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
Barbara looked away when she said, “Batgirl was invited, not Barbara.”
“Oh,” her father responded. She waited for him to say something else. “Barbara,” he finally said, “do you think it’s going to rain tomorrow?”
No one was happy with the Vehicle Training lesson that day. Least of all the teacher, Red Tornado. He would have preferred to have an extra Flight class, but Waller required that the Supers learn driving…within the speed limits and following the Metropolis City rules.
“That means slooooooow,” Red Tornado said, not even hiding his distaste.
“Why? Why do we have to do this?” asked The Flash as he did deep knee bends.
It was a rhetorical question. For the most part, the Supers were asked to test their limits. To go farther and faster than they ever had before. But now they had to adhere to the speed limit. What was with that?
“There may be times when you have to drive regular vehicles on regular roads,” Red Tornado said. “If and when that’s the case, you must abide by civilian rules. This is a safety issue.” He looked at Supergirl, Katana, and The Flash. “This is also a test of your restraint. So for today, we will set aside your rocket ships, invisible vehicles, jet packs, and of course, your wings and powers of flight. Instead, we will be driving these.”
There was an audible gasp as the door to the garage opened to reveal a fleet of old cars, trucks, vans, and motorcycles.
“Students, choose your vehicles!” Red Tornado shouted.
The initial complaints soon turned to laughter as the Supers tested out their vehicles. They drove too fast, veering off the road on purpose and bumping each other’s vehicles, causing Red Tornado to dock points from everyone.
“Slow down!” he yelled as The Flash sped past him. “You are to use the motorcycle engine, not your legs, to propel your vehicle.”
“Supergirl, put the car down and get into it and drive!”