by Bryan Cohen
She rubbed the sleeplessness out of her eyes with her right hand and grabbed a pillow with the left. She lightly tapped her bedmate with the fluffy weapon. Erica rolled away from her with a groan and tucked her face into her forearms.
Let's see if this does any damage.
Jennifer whipped the pillow back and propelled it into her friend's face. Erica instinctively grabbed a pillow and she was about to strike back until she realized the reality of the situation. She had a complex look on her face. Jennifer wasn't sure which was the prevalent emotion: embarrassment, regret, annoyance? Or were they mixed up in the same cocktail blender that got her to this point in the first place?
Erica yawned in a lungful of air and wrinkled her nose. "I'm awake. I'm awake. Enough with the fluffy assault."
Jennifer raised her eyebrows. "I think you could use assault with a much deadlier weapon."
Erica stretched and let out a squeak that was much too cute for someone who could do what she could. "Reprimand me. I deserve it. Just do it a little bit quieter."
Jennifer hopped off the bed and used her adrenaline to carry her into a pacing motion from one end of the room to the other. For all her annoyance, there was a certain power in going back to being the responsible one. "As much as I miss the good old days before super villains and mind control and inter-dimensional travel, keeping you out of trouble isn't something I expected to have to do anymore."
Erica looked like she was about to say something, but the text on Jennifer's phone stole their attention. Jennifer clomped over and pulled up the message.
"Hey Cents, I can't give you a ride today. I've got to do some research on campaign finance. Talk to you later :-)!"
Erica peered in Jennifer's direction. She had a look on her face as if she was in search of the juiciest gossip on the planet. Jennifer hadn't seen that particular look in quite some time. She didn't miss it.
Erica leaned forward. "Trouble in financial paradise?"
Jennifer did everything she could to keep composed. She gingerly placed the device on the bedside table and pasted on a smile that looked more like a grimace. "I see you drunk more often than I see my own boyfriend."
Erica let her snooping look fade into contrition. "I'm sorry, Jen. I really don't know why I'm acting like this. But I appreciate you taking care of me."
Jennifer was done being nice. She did a quick about-face and stared into the powerful yellowing sun. "Taking care of you? You realize that I probably should've been bailing you out of jail, right? Do you even remember almost killing somebody?"
Erica shifted in the bed behind her. "Actually, as I remember it, I almost killed three people." She moved closer to Jennifer. "But in my defense, two out of three of those guys were acting like complete douchebags. So they really had it com–"
"This isn't fair!" Jennifer turned on her heels and stomped towards the dresser. She grabbed out her clothing for the day and stared at her friend. "You came back to help us. And now it's worse than it ever was."
"You're right, Jen. It is worse. And it's because of me." Erica's eyes turned downward. "Now, everybody's in danger."
Jennifer squeezed her shirt with her palm. "If the world is going to end like you say it is, I don't think the pity party is going to help."
Erica lifted her eyes and tried to catch Jennifer's. "When the world does end, I'm just not sure what I'm going to–"
"I know what I'm going to do if the world ends." Jennifer tore her eyes away. "I'm going to keep a good attitude and go to school. If you don't have anything more to contribute, I think you should do the same."
Jennifer stormed into the bathroom and quickly changed into her outfit. She glanced at the mirror and wished the world could return to a less messed-up version of itself. She threw open the door and bent down to grab her backpack.
Erica lowered herself back down to her pillow. "I don't want to hold you up. Why don't you go without me? See you by second period?"
Jennifer answered by firmly slamming the bedroom door behind her.
Jennifer's eyes were so clouded with rage, pre-formed tears and sleeplessness that she barely even noticed the man standing on her doorstep. It was her father. At least it looked like Sheriff Norris, who'd been gunned down in a middle-of-nowhere Pennsylvania farm. In reality, it was someone else entirely. The sheriff held out and opened a white bakery box. The smell of fresh pastries reached Jennifer's nostrils.
"Hey honey, I got you something for breakfast."
Jennifer was all out of politeness. "Not today." She walked toward her car like there was nothing else to do in the world.
The sheriff kept up with her pace for pace. "I've really been trying here, Jen, but you won't let me in. It's pure torture."
Jennifer stopped by the side of the car and dug into her purse. "Torture like the torture your people put my father through when he bled to death?"
Jennifer knew the assertion wasn't completely fair. It wasn't even the dark souls who'd killed her father. It was a living soul gone bad who'd done the deed. Still, after all the pain she'd been through, it felt somewhat rewarding to inflict a little of her own. And that scared her.
The sheriff looked unfazed. "I'm sorry about what happened, but that doesn't stop the fact that I have all of your father's memories. There's a major part of him still inside of me. I remember your birth, Jennifer."
As Jennifer retrieved the keys, they promptly fell through her fingers onto the driveway. She knelt down to recover them. "I'm sure it was a rollicking good time."
The sheriff continued. "I remember the look of pure joy on your face when you rode your first bike without training wheels." He sniffled. "I remember how hard it was to believe that you turned into such a beautiful woman when I saw you in that junior prom dress. Even if you were standing next to Dhiraj, that scoundrel."
Jennifer recovered the keys, clenched them in her fist and jabbed the mass of metal toward the Sheriff.
He hopped back and nearly dropped his pastry box.
Jennifer scowled. "Look, my father is dead. You're not even a carbon copy. You're my enemy, and you're doing nothing but causing me pain."
She turned the key in the lock and opened the door.
Before she could step into the vehicle, the sheriff took her arm in a familiar grip. "You know, Erica and I have a lot in common. We both took over for people who cared about you. I hope that one day you'll accept me like you've accepted her."
Jennifer let her arm linger in his grasp for an extra moment. She wondered what it would feel like to hug him.
"I wouldn't hold my breath." She shut the door behind her with less force than she wanted, buckled herself in, and left the man behind.
Jennifer wished she could shut it all out. She wished the thoughts would just stop coming to her head. It wasn't fair she had to deal with a friend who was sinking back into bad habits, an absentee boyfriend, and an imposter who brought back dormant feelings of love and pain whenever she saw him.
"Anything going to go right today?"
She pulled into the Treasure High student lot and parked the car. As she stepped out, she saw a half-dozen Secret Servicemen standing at attention beside the entrance.
5
Travis leaned back against his locker and watched the government goons. There hadn't been any kind of announcement about them walking the school halls, but the appearance of all the President's men made it pretty obvious that they were the new authority figures in town. Over the course of the last eight months or so, the federal government had gone back and forth between ally and enemy so many times that Travis couldn't keep track anymore. He knew that he and the rest of the gang had received pardons from newly reelected President Blake, but experience told him that just because someone said they wouldn't kill you now didn't mean they wouldn't stab you in the back later. It was a definite case-in-point as he watched his fellow football players walk by in a pack. Some gave him a respectful nod, while others, particularly the ones who had been his fellow GHA compatriots, ignored him
with a fierce forward stare.
Even with the presence of such Presidential lackeys on hand, Travis couldn't help but focus on Natalie's latest refusal to see him. He pulled out his phone and swiped through the last few dozen texts he'd shared with his feisty basketballer girlfriend. She'd been aloof lately, but then again, she'd been aloof ever since that fateful day they made out during football camp last summer. Besides, it was basketball season, and he knew that Natalie had something to prove, despite having already secured a full ride at Southern Ohio University. While she'd been pounding the hardwood and racking up over 20 points a game, the rest of the gang had been supporting him better than any friends he'd ever had. Jennifer had helped him compile game footage for him to send out to several college football programs. Dhiraj had worked his financial magic to get Travis low-interest financial aid to put him through his first two years, even if he didn't get a single dime from a major football program. While Ted didn't seem to be all-in on a friendship, Travis could understand how difficult it is to be buddies with your ex's new boyfriend.
Travis looked everywhere for Natalie before, during, and after homeroom, but she was MIA. Just when he was about to call her, he felt the phone vibrate in his hands. The familiar area code made his mouth go slack. His first period teacher excused him from the room, and Travis excitedly hit the receive button.
"Hello. This is Travis."
A gruff voice answered on the other line. "Aren't you supposed to be in class, young man?"
Travis could hear the stifled laugh in the SOU coach's voice. He'd know that Midwestern accent anywhere. During a visit to campus with Natalie, his girlfriend had set up an impromptu workout with the coach. While she'd been the one to orchestrate the audition, which a lesser man might see as a handout, Travis knew the opportunity was all his. He ran the fastest 40-yard dash of his life. The coach later told him it was the second fastest time on the entire team. The way the man had said "team" made Travis hopeful.
He felt giddy. "Of course, sir. I only asked for permission out of my advance level Calculus V exam after I saw it was you calling."
The coach let his held back laughter out in a burst. "Travis, you have to work on that crap you're feeding me, but I'd like to offer you a full scholarship to SOU."
Travis internally freaked out. His stomach swelled with butterflies, and he felt like his throat would never let oxygen pass through it again. It took one more breath to recover.
He'd never smiled that wide in his life. "I'd be honored, sir. Thank you."
The coach beamed over the line. "I look forward to seeing you in the fall, Son. Now why don't you get back to that remedial Phys. Ed class you're failing?"
Travis could barely contain it. Life was finally going in the right direction.
"Yes, Sir! There's more where that 40 came from!"
"Get to class, bonehead."
The coach hung up, and Travis immediately dialed Natalie's number. His feet bounced up and down as the call went to voicemail.
His face started to hurt from such a stretched out smile. "Alright, girlie. Wherever you are, you better call me back. I just got the biggest offer of my–"
Travis lost his train of thought as he watched two students enter the building tardy. It was easy to recognize Natalie from the way she almost had to duck to get in through the glass doorway. Walking next to her was someone Travis needed to squint to fully recognize. Standing tall and confident was superhero Ted Finley. Travis' stomach fell through the floor. Ted and Natalie didn't see him as their hands brushed on the way into the building.
6
Vella licked her cracked lips as a small sliver of light slipped through a slit in the wall. Unlike the windows in her house in the village, which had flooded her with painful morning brightness, her small window here into the outside world made it nearly impossible to tell how early or late it was. At least she knew it wasn't the dead of night. That's when the nightmares came. That's when the images of her mother started to surface.
Now, like most times of the day, Vella wanted to call out for her mother. After several months of living like this, she no longer had the momentary pause when she couldn't remember where she was or how far away her caretaker could be. Even though she'd seen the execution with her own eyes, she still believed her mother was alive. Vella stretched her legs as she eased herself off the stone slab that functioned as her bed. As the balls of her feet connected with the hard surface below, she still felt like dancing.
They hadn't been able to take that from her, because it was never theirs to get. As much as the guards would tell her she had nothing to dream for, Vella's imagination remained strong. Perhaps now it was stronger than ever. She didn't need to imagine the day of her mother's supposed death. Originally, she was placed directly in front of the hanging, but at the last second she was moved much closer to the rear. As a result, through all the shouting and the shoving, through the musty odors and the constant murmuring, she never got a direct view of the moment everyone told her was pure fact.
I don't like facts.
When her stomach growled, she growled back. "Don't you know the food doesn't come for another five minutes? Silly tummy."
After performing for a few moments and engaging in conversation with a crusty part of the wall that looked like a face, she looked down and stared at the opening on the bottom third of her prison-cell door. The food she waited for every morning certainly wasn't a five-star meal, but you wouldn't know that from the way she slurped it up, imagining that every bite was a new and unusual delicacy from a far-off world.
One time, when she said the word "delicious" far too loudly, one guard screamed through the wall to give the food back. Vella assumed the man had to taste the food that sounded so much better than his typical morning meal. The groan through the door was audible before he passed the mushy brown substance back.
"More for me," she'd said.
The creak of the door's hinges shocked her from her imagination and memory. It was rare to see the hallway, and in her mind she saw a brightly glowing portal like the one she'd spied high above her village, the gateway that had started her big adventure in the first place. Two guards entered, and Vella saw the men as giant, snarling Lychos.
She hid her trembling as best she could. "I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting guests."
When one of the hulking guards smiled, his partner gave him a sharp elbow in the side.
The grinning gatekeeper's face turned to stone. "We're supposed to bring you to him."
Vella straightened her drab, gray dress, which felt rough against her skin. She pictured it as a silken, flowing ballgown.
She gripped her breakfast tray. "Do you think he'd want some of my seven-layer cake?"
The looser of the two guards smiled again. "I wish I had your brand of crazy, kid. Come on."
Vella had seen more and more guards looking happy the longer she'd been in captivity. She wondered if it had something do with her. Or maybe it was that word people kept talking about in hushed tones: peace.
Peace sounds nice. Almost as good as cake.
Her legs were light as they glided out of the cell. After all, they were on their way to see Vella's best friend in the world. She knew to keep her happiness to herself, as grinning tended to get her smacked on the back or neck. She kept her mouth neutral and let her body do the smiling. She prepared herself to be extremely polite, as her mother would've wanted.
They halted before a door that was somehow even too tall for the wolf-like guards. She watched them struggle to open it, and as they did, she gawked at the ornate throne room. A man in his finest military clothes, which Vella would only improve upon by adding a flowing red cape, hopped off his throne and walked quickly to intercept them.
She couldn't stifle her smile any longer. She knew this would be the day he'd finally tell the truth. The truth about her mother. The truth about who he really was.
The shiny military man knelt down beside her. Vella made her best attempt at a curtsy.
; "Good morning, Vella."
"Good morning, General Ted."
The man shook his head and turned his eyes downward before he glanced up at the two guards who brought her in. "You're dismissed."
The sentries, who still seemed to be walking on paws in Vella's mind, padded away and shut the doors behind them.
General Ted looked down at Vella in a way that made her shift uncomfortably. "Vella, I told you that I'm the General. Not Ted. Not General Ted. I'm not who you think I am."
Vella winked and danced away from him. "It's okay. I won't tell anyone your secret."
The General grabbed Vella's shirt and tightened his grasp until her lungs felt constricted. "I don't have much patience for you today, girl. I have very important meetings."
Vella could barely get words out, but she somehow kept the smile on her face. "Starting with me, right? I'm the most important meeting."
General Ted loosened his grip slightly and let a smile paint his lips. "I think some of my men could learn from you. Children are absolutely fearless."
He let Vella go and walked away from her.
She followed close behind. "My mother always taught me that showing fear is like showing blood to a Lychos."
The General slowed down ever so slightly to let Vella catch up. "Your mother was a smart woman, but it wasn't enough to save her."
Vella didn't let the pinprick of doubt faze her. She puffed out her chest like a military man might. "I know she's alive. Daughters can feel things about their mothers."
The General reached the side of his throne and leaned a heavy hand on one side. "I worry about you, Vella. I worry you aren't adjusting well to a new world. A world without your mother."