by Lisa Yee
S: Who’s the hardest teacher?
WW: All of them.
S: What happens when your powers go out of control?
WW: Happens to all of us. You practice, practice, practice.
S: Can we get a new student ID if we don’t like our photo?
WW: No, but don’t worry. No one looks good in ID photos.
To prove it, Wonder Woman showed Supergirl her student ID. In it, her eyes were closed. Supergirl tried to stifle a laugh. Katana glanced over and wordlessly whipped out her ID. In the picture she looked like she had just bitten into a lemon. Bumblebee set down her tea and showed hers. Everyone at the table burst out laughing.
“Hmmmm,” said Cheetah as she strolled past and glanced at the photos. “Yes, those never come out well, do they?”
Supergirl shook her head, unable to talk since she was laughing so hard. Hers looked the worst—her left eye was half open and her mouth was set in an unattractive grimace.
“Here’s mine,” Cheetah offered.
There was a stunned silence at the table as everyone passed around Cheetah’s ID. Cheetah shrugged. “What can I say? I was having an off day.”
Supergirl handed the ID back to Cheetah. The feline hero’s photo looked beautiful. Cheetah’s long, thick brown hair was accentuated with an amber swatch that complemented her tanned skin and big brown eyes. Her smile was more of a smirk, but still, she looked fashion-model-ready.
“See you later, ladies,” Cheetah purred, tucking her ID into her backpack. Before she left, she pointed to Supergirl’s photo. “Looks just like you!” she said.
“No, you don’t look like a goofy goober,” Wonder Woman said as they walked to Intro to Super Suits. Supergirl was still worried about her ID photo. “You look good.”
“I do?” Supergirl could feel herself blushing.
“Yes! Well, not your student ID, that looks funny. But I love your costume!” Wonder Woman said.
Supergirl grinned. Coming from Wonder Woman, it was a huge compliment.
Wonder Woman had a great costume—blue pants trimmed with stars and high red boots adorned with wings. Then there was her red top with a gold W that crossed her shoulders—and that tiara with the ruby star nestled into the top of her long, thick black hair…wow!
“This class helped me create my costume,” Wonder Woman told her. “If you want to change your look, it can help you, too.”
Supergirl hesitated. She thought Wonder Woman liked what she was wearing. But maybe she was wrong—
“Supergirl!” Crazy Quilt called out. Her teacher was wearing a patchwork vest, a poufy purple shirt, and tight, tapered dress pants. “Here, here, come up here. Let’s take a look at you!”
Supergirl ran toward the front of the room, but before she got there—“Oomph!”—she knocked over a basket of snapdragon plants sitting at the edge of Poison Ivy’s desk. “So sorry!” she said, helping Poison Ivy gather the plants before they bit any students.
“That’s okay,” Poison Ivy said as her flowing red hair whipped around. She waved her hands in the air and willed the snapping plants back into the basket, securing the white wicker lid.
“Supergirl,” Crazy Quilt reminded her. “Here, here. Up front, now.”
As Supergirl stood at attention and bit her lip, her teacher critiqued her costume: the short flared red skirt with yellow trim, the top whose blue matched the color of Wonder Woman’s pants, the white collar, her short sleeves, and the red high-top sneakers. “Hmmm…,” Crazy Quilt said, circling her so many times Supergirl got dizzy. “Hmmm…!”
He stood in front of her with his arms crossed, nodding, then shaking his head, then nodding again.
“Yes, yes,” Crazy Quilt finally said. “Yes, there is plenty of room for improvement, wouldn’t you say? Like that big S on your shirt. We can do better than that, can’t we?” He looked around the room, nodding at his own suggestion.
Supergirl opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything, Crazy Quilt was applauding himself. “Yes! Brilliant! I’ve got it! I will offer extra credit to the student who supplements your costume to its best advantage!”
“Yes, but I like…,” Supergirl tried to say.
“Of course you like my idea,” Crazy Quilt said, puffing himself up and tugging at the corners of his vest. “Class, do you like it, too?”
Star Sapphire, Miss Martian, and The Flash agreed. Extra credit was a good thing. A great thing. It could help bring up a grade. At Super Hero High, getting good grades—in addition to defensive fighting and knowledge of the universe—was important.
“Excuse me,” Supergirl said, tapping Crazy Quilt on the shoulder. “But this is my family crest, and—”
“Don’t worry!” he assured her. Supergirl released a sigh of relief until he said, “We’ll make it much better!”
Supergirl felt her throat tighten. She didn’t want it to be better. She loved her family crest. She was proud of it. In fact, she loved her entire costume. Her mother had made it for her. But before Supergirl could say anything more, Crazy Quilt was barking out the details of his extra-credit assignment as the class immediately got to work.
Wildcat looked up from his clipboard. Phys ed had just started. “I’ve heard good things about you, Supergirl,” he growled. “Now we’ll see if what they’re saying is true.”
“What are they saying?” Supergirl asked, curious. Who was talking about her? Did someone say something bad?
“That you’re the strongest girl in the world,” Cheetah said, whispering in her ear. “But if that’s true, you’re going to have to prove it.”
Supergirl smiled at her classmate. She sensed that Cheetah didn’t like her, but she didn’t know why. Supergirl made a mental note to be extra nice to her.
“Let’s do this!” Wildcat yelled. He watched without comment as Supergirl ran through a battery of tests. Lifting weights, then cars, then boulders. Stopping rockets midair. After each test, Supergirl tried to gauge his response, but Wildcat just nodded and scratched numbers down on his clipboard.
Finally, Wildcat spoke up. “Class,” he said. His deep gravelly voice commanded attention. This was the teacher who had coached the Super Hero High team to victory in the recent 100th Super Triathlon. Supergirl knew all about it, and him, from watching Harley’s videos.
“Class,” Wildcat said again. “I’ve double-checked the numbers, and though this is just a preliminary test, it looks like Super Hero High may be home to the most powerful teen in the world!”
“Wonder Woman!” Supergirl found herself saying out loud. Wondy was great at everything.
“Supergirl!” Wildcat corrected her. “But don’t get too cocky. We won’t know for sure until we get to the real tests.”
Supergirl saw Principal Waller nod to him from the back of the room before continuing on her way.
Wonder Woman looked stricken. Then she took a deep breath and with determination strode toward Supergirl. Holding her head high, Wonder Woman was the first to congratulate her. “That is so awesome, Supergirl,” Wondy said, shaking her hand. “Well deserved.”
“But, but…I thought you were the one…,” Supergirl stammered.
Wonder Woman shrugged. “It was me. But there are enough powers to go around. Anyway, the stronger you are, the stronger we are.”
Cheetah approached the two of them and stretched out. “This test doesn’t count. It wasn’t an official one. Plus, your powers mean nothing if you can’t control them.”
“Ignore her,” Katana jumped in. “I do.”
As Cheetah and Katana glared at each other, Harley Quinn pushed them apart and shoved a camera in Supergirl’s face. “Supergirl, we now know you have super-duper strength. But what’s your weakness? Everyone’s got one. Mine’s potato chips.” She paused to laugh at her own joke. “Hey, Supergirl, is it true that Kryptonite is yours?” Harley turned the camera on herself and shouted, “My ‘Harley’s Quinntessentials’ viewers want to know!” before turning it back on Supergirl.
“I guess so?” Supergirl said so only Harley could hear her.
“What’s that? Really?” Harley said to the camera, her eyes widening. “Well, sorry, ‘Quinntessentials’ viewers, but that’s need-to-know information. I need to know it, but you don’t!”
Katana whispered to Supergirl, “Don’t give away all your secrets; they can be used against you. Like saying that Kryptonite is your weakness. Harley covered for you this time, but next time you may not be so lucky.”
Supergirl nodded appreciatively.
What she didn’t add was that she felt like she had a lot of weaknesses. Unlike the rest of the Supers, who appeared to be so confident, there was so much she couldn’t do yet. Supergirl hoped that no one would find out.
“I’ve tried everything and can’t get this to work,” Supergirl admitted to Barbara Gordon.
“Let me take a look.” Commissioner Gordon’s daughter examined the computer. In addition to overseeing the police department, her father had taken on a part-time job teaching at Super Hero High. “What seems to be the problem?”
My parents are gone, Supergirl thought. My planet exploded. My teacher wants me to change my costume, and I can’t control my powers—and that’s just for starters.
“I’m trying to send an email to my aunt Martha and uncle Jonathan,” Supergirl explained, pushing her bangs aside. “But my computer keeps shutting down.”
Barbara pressed a button and the recruitment video for Korugar Academy came up on-screen. The view count from Supergirl’s computer numbered seventeen. “Someone’s interested in Korugar,” Barbara quipped.
Supergirl blushed bright red. “It’s just that…well, despite the strength tests, I still don’t feel like I’m in the same league as the rest of the Supers. My powers are all over the place!”
Supergirl clamped her hands over her mouth. “Oh, wow,” she exclaimed, embarrassed. “Please ignore everything you just heard, okay?”
Barbara closed the back of the computer. She put down the small screwdriver she’d been using. “I’m honored that you confided in me,” she said, taking off her glasses. Her green-gray eyes looked friendly. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. In fact, I can help,” she offered. “I can use my technology to create a battery of tests to chart your progress, giving you exercises and critiques along the way.” Barbara paused. Now it was her turn to look embarrassed. “That is, of course, if you’d like my help.”
“You would do that for me?” Supergirl sputtered.
“Of course,” Barbara said. “That’s what friends do for each other. Oh, and you can call me Babs if you want. Harley started that nickname, and it looks like it stuck.”
Supergirl felt warm inside. Her first real friend on Earth and she couldn’t have asked for a nicer one. She stood up and gave Barbara a huge hug. “I would LOVE your help,” she said. “THANK YOU! I’m so happy you go to Super Hero High, too!”
“Uh, I go to Gotham High. I just work here,” Babs corrected her. “Would you mind releasing me?” she said, trying to breathe through Supergirl’s crushing embrace. “The first thing you have to learn is just how strong you are.”
“Sorry, I’ve only had my superpowers since I’ve been on Earth, and that’s really only been a few weeks,” Supergirl said apologetically.
“I know,” Babs said. “That’s not a long time. Just remember: to be your best you need to employ your superpowers, brainpower, and willpower. Do you think you can do that?”
“Yes,” Supergirl said, nodding. “Superpower, brainpower, and willpower!”
When not working with Barbara, Supergirl went into overdrive in her effort to make new friends. Luckily, she was very friendly. But despite her best efforts, she was also still super accident prone, always tripping over her untied shoelaces, flying too high too fast, misjudging her strength. When Supergirl let Cheetah cut in the cafeteria line, she bumped into Cyborg, sending him skidding across the room. When she carried Star Sapphire’s science project for her, Supergirl crushed the mini volcano, causing hot lava to spill all over Frost and flooding the hallway with steam. And when she flew up to get Astrophysics and Astro Modern Monuments from a high shelf for Miss Martian, Supergirl toppled the bookcase, causing a domino effect that practically decimated the library.
“Oh! So sorry! I’ll put everything back,” she told the stunned librarian. “I promise.”
It was hard starting at any new school. But starting at Super Hero High, where the standards were out of this world, and starting midterm, when classes were in full swing, Supergirl soon found herself falling behind.
“This doesn’t look good,” Principal Waller said, putting down her glasses. She had been reading a progress report. “Supergirl, I don’t want you to stress out about your grades; however, I won’t lie. They’re important.”
Supergirl nodded. She thought about Korugar Academy, with no tests and no grades and no pressure to succeed—or at least, that was how their brochure made it seem. On Krypton, she had been one of the top students. But then, her former high school wasn’t full of overachieving super heroes.
“I’ve assigned tutors for you,” Waller said. “Wonder Woman will help you with Weaponomics. Harley will be with you in phys ed. Poison Ivy will be your partner in science, and Hawkgirl will cover Super Heroes Throughout History. For Flyers’ Ed, there’s Bumblebee. And in Intro to Super Suits, you’ll be with Katana.”
Supergirl felt a wave of relief rush over her. Help was on the way!
As the days marched on, Supergirl felt more confident about her studies. Her tutors were totally great—well, Katana wasn’t always very patient when it came to cutting cloth for Intro to Super Suits. Often, she’d throw bolts of cloth in the air and slice them into patterns before they hit the ground. Then there was science, when sometimes Poison Ivy was so enthusiastic that she’d skip over the basics and blow up the room—although she was always overly contrite when this happened. In Flyers’ Ed, Bumblebee seemed to forget that Supergirl was new to flying and would want her to perform seemingly impossible formations alongside her.
When Hawkgirl tutored Supergirl in Super Heroes Throughout History, she was a stickler for details, expecting her to have memorized even the footnotes, leaving Supergirl thoroughly befuddled. Plus, Harley was always bouncing around, videotaping Supergirl chewing her pencil or twirling her hair when she was confused, which was often. But other than that, everything was going great!
“Excuse me, Mr. Fox. Why is it I’m in this class? I don’t have any weapons,” Supergirl asked one day.
Lucius Fox, in his wool suit and crisply cut vest, dressed more like a Wall Street banker than a Weaponomics instructor. “Great question!” he said, straightening his bow tie. “Who here sports weapons?”
Katana raised her sword in the air, and several other students brandished their weapons proudly.
“Who here comes into contact with weapons?” Every single student raised their hand. Mr. Fox nodded. “This class also teaches you how to deflect the weapons that may be used against you. For example, Supergirl, Kryptonite is your weakness, correct?”
“Yes,” Supergirl replied. Though she hadn’t experienced the effects of the green glowing radioactive element firsthand, the Kents had warned her that it could drain her of her strength. It could even kill her if she stayed in contact with it too long.
“We don’t have a quick antidote yet for your body’s response to Kryptonite,” Mr. Fox continued. “But we can make you aware of the threat and how to avoid it.”
Supergirl took notes. Of course! A weapon could be a tool—or a danger, depending whose hands it was in. She was learning so much—and moments of understanding like this made everything going on in her life make more sense. Yet everything in her life still seemed so overwhelming. Was that normal?
“Barbara? Barbara Gordon, where are you?” Mr. Fox called out.
Barbara stepped out from behind the door. “Ah, there you are. Have you been here the whole time?” he asked. She nodded, almost sheepishly
. Supergirl had noticed that Barbara was often hanging around during class. “Listen up, Supers!” Mr. Fox continued as he strolled up and down between the desks. “Barbara will be conducting a weapons check, making sure they all work properly. Hand them over.”
“Supergirl,” Barbara asked. “Will you help me log them in?”
“Sure!” Supergirl leapt up and began collecting the weapons with such enthusiasm that a few of them accidentally smashed a window. The good news was that Mr. Fox was able to use Supergirl’s stumbles as the starting point in a lecture about weapons safety. While Supergirl smiled through his talk, inside she was mortified to have let Barbara and Mr. Fox down.
By the time Intro to Super Suits rolled around, Supergirl’s stomach was in a knot. Crazy Quilt was pacing the runway, excited to see what his students had come up with for the SECA—Supergirl Extra Credit Assignment.
As each student gave her an item to add to her costume, or showed a sketch of what they thought she should wear, Supergirl did her best to appear pleased. Some designs were conservative—like Hawkgirl’s, which was nearly identical to the gray suit jacket that Waller wore. Others were over-the-top, like Harley’s. Harley had added horns and firecrackers to Supergirl’s costume. Some looked practical—like a skirt-of-many-pockets that The Flash had created. And still others were fashionable without function—like the fabulosity of Star Sapphire’s full-on sparkly ball gown and matching gem-encrusted high-heeled shoes, which would have made her look like a super pop star.
As the anxious students awaited the decision, each hoping to earn the SECA, Supergirl’s stomach began to cramp with stress. She wanted to please everyone. But how could she? And what was worse, she wasn’t even sure any of the costume changes were right for her.
“It’s time. Is everyone ready? I’m ready! Tell us!” Crazy Quilt said, opening his arms and holding them up toward the sky. He paused for a moment for dramatic effect. “Who will be awarded the extra credit? Who among us will add to Supergirl’s iconic costume? This costume will inform the world of who Supergirl is, where she’s been, and where she’s going. This costume, like all of yours, is her calling card!”