Rosie gasps. She hops up out of her chair. “Can she, Daddy?”
“I’m not sure we’re ready to try that again,” Mom says.
“Why not?” I ask. “You let me do it at the beginning of the year.”
“That was before you tried to hitch a ride because Rosie was walking too slow.”
I wave that off. “I was a little kid then. I know what I’m doing now.”
Mom and Dad exchange a look. Rosie is bouncing on her toes, hugging herself.
“I don’t know,” Dad says, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t think Rosie is interested.”
“I’m interested,” she cries.
He smirks. “You are?”
“Yes!” She starts running in place.
“Because I’m not getting that.”
“Pleeeeeease,” she squeals. She squeezes her eyes shut and clasps her hands together.
“I guess we can give it a shot,” Dad says.
“Woo!” Rosie thrusts her fists in the air and runs around the kitchen table. “This is going to be the best… walk… ever!”
“I’ll try not to take that personally.” Dad laughs. “Now go change.”
Rosie zooms out of the kitchen.
“And you, Meena Zee,” Mom says, standing up. “Be good to your sister.”
I roll my eyes at that. “I’m always good to her.”
“Except for when you leave her behind. Or hide from her. Or make her pick up soggy socks and put them in her backpack.”
“I only did that once!”
“I mean it, kiddo. Rosie worships the ground you walk on. Don’t take advantage of her.”
“Oooh,” Dad says, rubbing his hands together. “Can I give her the Spider-Man speech?”
Mom sighs. “Always with the Spider-Man speech.”
Dad thrusts out his chest, fists on his hips. “With great power—”
“—comes great responsibility,” I mutter. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”
Rosie comes running back into the room. She slides to a stop in her socks and starts putting on her shoes.
“I’ll be there to bring you home at lunchtime, Rosie,” Mom says. “Just remember to hold hands crossing the street.”
“We will,” I grumble, putting on my jacket.
“And remember that Rosie goes straight to the building. The kindergarteners don’t wait outside with the rest of you.”
“I know.”
“And if anybody calls here saying you didn’t report to school on time—”
“They won’t, Mom! Geez. I know how to walk her.”
“You’re walking with her,” Mom says, kissing us each on the cheek. “She’s your sister, not a dog.”
* * *
I keep my eyes peeled as I strut down the sidewalk, my shoulders back, the Rainbow Ring thumping under my shirt. It’s a big job, protecting your little sister. You never know where danger lurks, or when disaster might strike.
Rosie starts running ahead. She always does that—takes off for a clean patch of snow or a new clump of dandelions.
Not today. Not on my watch. Heroes don’t follow. They lead.
“Come back here,” I say. “You have to stay with me.”
“Dad lets me go first.”
“Well, I don’t. It’s my job to keep you safe.”
She looks around at the houses we’re passing, with their painted shutters and stenciled mailboxes. “Safe from what?”
“What if a dragon swooped down and carried you away?”
She crosses her arms. “Dragons are nice.”
“Maybe that’s what they want you to think,” I say. “Maybe they wait until you’re all cozy and comfortable, and then wham-o! They grab you by the neck and carry you off to their lair.”
Her eyes widen. “What would you do?”
I brush myself off. “I’d save you, obviously.”
“Ha!” She slaps her hands on her thighs. “You couldn’t save me from that! Mommy would have to.”
“For your information, I saved a girl just last week.”
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“What girl?”
“Someone at school. You don’t know her.”
She squints at me. “From a dragon?”
I shrug. “Basically.”
“Did not.”
“Did too!”
I get another Inspiration then. I am on fire today!
“Maybe I’ll let you help me next time,” I say.
Rosie narrows her eyes at me. “How?”
I grab her hand to cross the street, thinking hard.
“You could do sound effects,” I say. “That way I don’t have to go around yelling, ‘BAM!’ every time I save someone.”
Rosie might not make a bad sidekick, I realize. I can picture her now in a shimmery blue suit with silver boots. Maybe she’d even have wings—little wings, though, like the kind chickens have that don’t actually work, because she sure can’t fly if I can’t.
Hang on.
I stop. Rosie takes another step, but when her hand yanks out of mine, she turns to look at me. “What?” she asks.
I stare at her. “Nothing,” I say slowly. “I was just wondering…”
Can I fly?
My heart starts to beat faster. I don’t know. I wasted the whole weekend dreaming up costumes when I should have been testing my powers!
I have to find out what else I can do. But first I have to get Rosie to school.
Maybe I can do both at once!
I gaze down the long sidewalk that leads to the main entrance. Am I faster than a speeding bullet?
Let’s find out.
I grip the straps of my backpack. “Race you,” I say.
I’m off like a shot, blasting past her, pumping my arms, my backpack thumping. I’m strong and fast and free, hair flying, lungs stinging. When I reach the front doors, I stop and turn around, gasping for air.
Rosie is only halfway down the walk, so I must have been super fast!
Then again, she’s doing that little fairy run of hers, up on her toes, arms flitting at her sides. Maybe I would have beat her anyway.
So super speed? Maybe.
“Told you I’d get you here safe,” I say when Rosie catches up. The aide is right inside, waiting to walk kindergarteners to their classroom.
“Rosie Posey, wait!”
Sofía runs up from behind us. I see her mom standing at the end of the long walk in her rose-garden shawl. I wave. She smiles and waves back before turning and heading the other way.
“I have something for you,” Sofía says, panting. She reaches up and straightens her red flower headband.
Rosie lifts her eyebrows. “For me?”
Sofía pushes up the sleeve of her jacket. When I see the sky blue–and-lavender bracelet she made, I give my wrist a little shake, feeling my own beads click.
Then Sofía reaches under her sleeve and pulls out another bracelet.
It’s pink and white, on a stretchy string that slides right over her hand.
Wait a second.…
“Here,” Sofía says.
Rosie gasps. “You made one for me?”
“Sure.” She slips the bracelet onto Rosie’s wrist. “You’re my friend too, right?”
My stomach clenches like a fist as Rosie breaks into a huge smile and slams Sofía with a hug. When she pulls back, she thrusts her wrist in my face. “Meena, did you see?”
“I saw.” I jerk the door open. “Get going.”
Rosie skips inside and waves at Sofía over her shoulder.
When she’s gone, I let go of the door and turn on Sofía. “Why did you do that?”
She blinks at me. “I like Rosie.”
“But those were our bracelets.”
She holds up her wrist. “We still have ours.”
“They’re not special if everybody has one!”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “I didn’t make one for everybody.”
“You could have asked me f
irst.”
“Why?” She crosses her arms. “Are you saying I can’t be friends with your sister?”
“I’m saying—” I smack my hands over my face. The bracelets are supposed to be one of a kind, like our friendship is.
Or at least like it used to be.
“Look, I don’t want to fight,” I say finally. “Can you please just help me before the bell rings?”
“With what?”
I take a big breath and give myself a shake, letting the hurt shimmy down my arms and out the tips of my fingers. Then I lean in close and cup my hand to her ear.
“Help me figure out what my powers are.”
5
Sofía and I hurry across the dewy playground, drop our backpacks, and climb into the orange tube slide. As long as the first graders are playing freeze tag, it’s nice and private in here.
Which is perfect, because I don’t want to get caught performing any superhuman feats.
“Let’s see if I can levitate,” I say. I figure that must be the first step to flying.
“Um, okay…” Sofía sits cross-legged at the foot of the slide.
I lie back, fold my arms across my chest, and close my eyes. I concentrate on floating into the air—a few inches to start. I breathe in and out, imagining myself getting lighter, picturing the empty space beneath me opening up. It’s so clear in my mind that I’m sure I must be hovering.
I sit up. “So?”
Sofía shakes her head. “Nope.”
“I’m sure I felt myself lifting a little bit.”
She climbs out, kneels on the ground, and rests her chin on the slide. “Try again.”
I close my eyes and take long, deep breaths. I imagine huge rubber bands stretched around the back of me, tightening, pulling me upward. My back starts to tingle.
“There!” I sit up again. “Did you see it?”
She grimaces. “Sorry.”
“But I felt it!” I frown. “I thought I did.”
“Maybe it’s not one of your powers,” Sofía says, climbing back in.
“Or maybe I need more practice.”
“Can we go play four square now?”
“Not yet. I want to check out my brain powers too.” I tell her about using mind control on Rosie over the weekend. “Do you think I can do anything else?”
“Like what?”
“Maybe I can read minds.” I get a little jolt of excitement. “Let’s see.”
“Okay.” Sofía closes her eyes. “What number am I thinking of?”
I concentrate as hard as I can, squeezing my eyes shut and breathing in the plasticky smell of the slide. “Eighty-one.”
“No, twenty-seven.”
“Don’t tell me. Let me figure it out. Try again.” I wait until her eyes are closed, then stare deep into my brain. “Thirty-four.”
“Close.”
“Thirty-five.”
“Keep going.”
“Thirty-six?” I open one eye. She’s nodding now. “Thirty-seven? Thirty-eight?”
“Yes!” Her eyes snap open.
I let out a breath. “I knew I could do it! Think of something else. Not a number this time.”
I cover my eyes and sit still, breathing in and out. Hands slap the monkey bars nearby. Feet trample the soccer field in the distance.
“Anything?” Sofía asks.
I get an image of a little girl skipping through the woods with a basket on her arm. “Are you thinking about Little Red Riding Hood? Because that’s what popped into my head.”
“Nope. I was picturing Pedro wrapped in toilet paper like a mummy.”
“Oh.” I open my eyes. “That was way off.”
“Hey!” Eli sticks his head into the top of the slide.
“Come on in,” Sofía says.
I give her a side eye. “Actually, we’re a little busy in here.”
Eli climbs in anyway. “Just tell me what this sounds like.” He starts doing this weird, chugging thing with his mouth, all teeth and lips, spit flying everywhere.
I cover my face with my hands. “Eli!”
Sofía is laughing. “Is that a helicopter?”
He stops chugging and beams at us. “I’m getting it ready to show my brother.”
I lower my arms. “Riley’s coming?” I ask. “When?”
“This weekend. He has a week off for spring break. Mom says we should have the whole family over so you and Rosie can see him too.” He lights up. “Maybe I’ll do a sound-effects concert for everyone!”
I groan.
“Want to see me do a sprinkler?” Eli asks.
“Yeah,” Sofía says.
I feel a twinge of jealousy. “But we were in the middle of something,” I say, nudging her with my knee.
“This’ll just take a sec,” she says, turning to Eli.
He starts making these swishy noises, ticking his head back and forth while he cranks it all the way to one side. All of a sudden, he starts chugging again, making one long spray of spit as he rotates his head back.
I cover my head. “Knock it off!”
Sofía is bent over laughing when Eli stops and wipes his mouth. “I’m gonna go practice my laser sounds. See you!”
I swat at him as he barrels past us and out the end of the tube.
“You’re so lucky you get to see his concert,” Sofía says when he’s gone, wiping spit from her forehead.
“You want me to ask Aunt Kathy if you can come?”
She brightens. “Really?”
“If you want.”
Her face falls then. “That’s okay.” She sighs. “It sounds like a family thing.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, you’re not missing anything. Eli barely hangs out with me when Riley’s home. He’s too busy following his brother around.”
“Don’t you like him?” Sofía asks.
“Riley?” I shrug. “He’s fine. He just doesn’t pay attention to us.” Before he left for college, he was always at swim practice or in his room in the basement. When he did come out, Eli would bounce around trying to get him to watch while he blew spit bubbles or ate paper or something. Then Riley would disappear into the basement again, and Eli would be quiet and sulky until I stopped trying to cheer him up and went home.
I’m not gonna lie: I didn’t like being ignored. But the worst part was that I knew it hurt Eli’s feelings, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.
But now that I’m a superhero, maybe I can help!
I pull the Rainbow Ring out of my shirt. Maybe I can use Mind Control to distract Eli. Or to make Riley pay attention to him.
I wonder how it works—if it’s like changing channels in my brain to control different people.
I have to find out before Riley gets home.
Sofía starts to climb out of the slide. “Four square?” she says.
“I thought we were practicing my brain powers!”
“But the bell’s gonna ring.”
“Just once more? Please?”
“Meena…” Sofía sits down again and starts working her jaw back and forth. She takes a deep breath and says quickly, “What if the Ring doesn’t have powers?”
I chuckle. “Then it isn’t much of a magic ring.”
She gazes at me.
“Hang on.” I stare at her. “You don’t believe me?”
She twists the end of her braid. “I just think that… well, what difference does it make?”
I cross my arms. “Sofía María Rodríguez González.” I use all her names so she knows I mean it. “That’s like saying, ‘What difference does it make if processed cheese food isn’t really cheese, and Pop Rocks aren’t made out of pop or rocks’? It makes all the difference in the world!”
She doesn’t say anything, but I study the crinkle in her forehead and how she’s twisting her hair into a tight little rope down the length of her shoulder.
She isn’t trying to being mean, I realize. She just doesn’t think there’s anything special about me.
“Hey.” She scoo
tches over and bumps my shoulder with hers. “Even if you’re not a superhero, you’re still you. That’s not so bad, right?”
That’s not even enough for her to give me a one-and-only-best-friends bracelet. I can’t look at her anymore. Instead, I look at the beads around my wrist. I used mostly purple, but it’s the single yellow bead that stands out. Because it’s the only one.
Sofía taps her foot against mine. “Right?” she says again.
“Yeah, I guess,” I mutter.
The bell rings.
We climb out of the slide, pick up our backpacks, and make our way across the playground. I scuffle my feet through the wood chips, then the grass, then over the blacktop. I drag my feet so much that by the time we line up with the third grade, we have to stand all the way in the back.
“Go ahead, first graders,” I hear the playground monitor say.
What if I’m not a superhero? Then I’m just my plain old regular self. Not one of a kind—just another kid. Like everyone else.
I kick my feet against the ground, staring at my feet so long that at first I don’t notice that the line of little kids isn’t moving. “First graders,” the monitor says again, “you can go on in.”
“That’s her,” says a small voice.
I look up. The whole first grade is stuck behind their line leader: a little girl with curly black hair sproinging out of her pigtails.
The girl who walked in front of the van.
She’s staring at me.
She tugs on the kid next to her. “That’s the girl I told you about,” she says, pointing right at me. She raises her voice, like she’s making an announcement to the whole class. “She saved me. My mom said so.”
Other little kids turn their heads. The playground monitor tries to wave them in, but they stay right there, standing on their toes to get a look at me over the line of second graders.
“I was there,” Aiden says. “I saw it.” All the kids are buzzing now. Heads turn toward me, staring.
I suck in my breath and take a step back.
Then I stand up straighter and hike my backpack higher. I tilt my chin up and set my jaw. When I clear my throat, I swear I hear a swell of music behind me.
I give the girl a nod. “Just doing my duty,” I say.
This would be the perfect time to raise my fist in the air and lift myself up, up, and away.
But I don’t know how to do that yet, so I salute instead.
Never Fear, Meena's Here! Page 3