Lawrence didn’t think he was going to have any trouble passing his aptitude test. He was so nervous there wasn’t a single small object in the conference room that wasn’t moving. The fake plant in the corner quivered slightly, and he had set a pencil spinning in the air in front of him. When the door opened Lawrence jumped, and the pencil flew through the air, burying itself halfway into the plaster wall next to the doorjamb. Valkyrie glanced at the pencil and stepped into the room. “Anymore surprises?” she asked.
“Sorry.” Lawrence grabbed at the fluttering pages of his Calculus book sitting in front of him. Behind Valkyrie was a squat, indeterminate person of either gender. The dwarf was dressed in an off-white tunic and loose pants and wore his or her hair in a long grey plait.
“This is the Golden Swami,” Valkyrie introduced.
“Pleased to meet you,” the Swami said with a slight Indian accent and Lawrence was relieved to hear a distinctly female voice coming from her throat, and also noticed dangling gold earrings and a glittering nose stud that suggested that she was indeed a woman. “So you are The Kinetic Professor?” She struggled into a too-tall chair.
“Yes.”
She had a large bag with her and she opened it and began to set out objects
in front of her--a baseball, a few hand weights of various sizes, an orange. She spoke as she unpacked the bag. “When did you first notice your powers?”
“Um, fourteen.”
“Do you remember the circumstances in which they were revealed?”
He felt himself color behind his mask. “Yes, but I’d rather not talk about it.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she offered. “Masturbation is a healthy part of any normal sex drive.” Before he could respond she continued. “How often do you practice?” He stared at her. “Your telekinetic abilities. How often do you practice them?”
“Oh, um, sometimes if I don’t feel like getting up I’ll use them to get a book or something…I guess haven’t had a lot of practice.”
“This shouldn’t take long then,” she said, pursing her lips. Lawrence was able to roll the baseball across the table and lift the one and two pound weights, but that was about it.
“Peel the orange,” The Swami ordered.
“Peel it? With my mind?”
“Of course.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Try.” Lawrence stared stupidly at the orange. He knew how to move things. He couldn’t dismantle something just by thinking it. He tried to do as she asked, but only succeeded in floating it a foot off the table. “I can’t,” he said finally, and the orange bounced off the table and hit the floor.
A moment later the orange was hovering in the middle of the table. Lawrence watched as the peel began to pull away from the fruit in a neat spiral and fall to the table. The Swami let the peeled orange drop down in front of her and suddenly the segments of orange simply fell away from each other, perfectly dissected. The Swami picked up one of the sections and popped it into her mouth. “You need to stop being afraid of your talents,” she explained, a bit of orange juice squirting out between her teeth. “I will teach you.” She glanced at Valkyrie. “So much for my retirement.”
“We really appreciate your help,” Valkyrie offered.
“I like having students,” the Swami assured, still eating her orange. “Teaching touches the sadist in me.” She looked up at Lawrence. “Are you free Monday evenings?” He was running out of free evenings, but nodded anyway. “Good. Six o’ clock, room 137. Got it?”
“Yes ma’am.”
The Swami’s mouth broke into a smile. “I love it when they call me ‘ma’am.’ Make sure you practice.”
Lawrence nodded and collected up his book bag. “Very pleased to meet you,” he managed to sputter as he left the room.
America was waiting for him in the hallway. “How did it go?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I have to take classes.” He glanced at her. “What about you?”
America shrugged. “I don’t know either. I was going too fast for Stone’s radar gun.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Not to brag or anything.”
“You would never brag,” he said.
“That’s sweet of you to say,” she said, but gave him a smile that made her glow. “I am Glorious.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at her. ’Glorious’ was her favorite word. “Yeah. I know you are. Let’s go get some food.” She clutched his arm tightly as they walked down the hall together, any arguments from the previous week forgotten.
“I hope Torch does okay on his,” Lawrence added.
“He’s very scatter-brained, isn’t he?” America mused. “And he doesn’t talk much, I guess because of his stutter.”
“He’s had a hard time of things. He told me a bit about his life.”
“Really?” America said with surprise. “We’re not supposed to--”
“It wasn’t anything specific,” Lawrence said. “It’s just--his life has been rough.”
They made their way to the lounge downstairs. The girls had started taking turns cooking--Lawrence knew there was a big pot of leftover chili in the fridge. He was glad of the magically renewing fridge. He didn’t have time for a job, and even though the League was paying for his school and dorm room, he was still running low on funds. He knew America was in the same situation.
He forgot about money and food as soon as they stepped into the lounge. Torch was sitting in the middle of the now-blackened love seat, staring at his hands. The skin was blistered and raw. A few scorched remnants of his clothes remained, but the fire-retardant bodysuit he wore underneath had protected the rest of him. Black stood aside holding a spent fire extinguisher. “What happened!” America ran to Torch’s side but he pulled away.
“D-don’t come any closer!” He shouted. “What are you, crazy? Do you want me to catch you on fire too?”
“He was blazing when I got here,” Black explained, setting aside the extinguisher. “I take it his assessment did not go well. This place is so screwed up--it took me forever to find an extinguisher.”
“I’m okay now,” Torch said. “You can g-go.”
“You’re not okay,” America said. “Look at your hands!”
“It happens all the time. I’ll be ok-kay.”
“No,” Lawrence agreed. “You need to go to the hospital. Those burns could
get nasty if they become infected, and you must be in a lot of pain.” He and America both took him by the shoulders and eased him up. Obviously in too much pain to protest, Torch went with them.
“We can take my car,” Black offered. “I’m parked at the loading dock out back.” Lawrence looked over at him, surprised that he had offered his assistance. The young man in the black suit and dark glasses hadn’t exactly been unfriendly, but he didn’t talk much either.
“Thank you,” Lawrence said.
Black’s car was large and black--completely unsurprising. Lawrence and Glory slid into the roomy back seat with Torch between them. Lawrence hoped that now someone was taking care of him, Torch was of no danger to anyone.
When they got to the hospital Black drove past the emergency entrance. “Um, we were supposed to pull in back there,” Lawrence offered.
“Because four people in masks and costumes would be a normal thing to see in the emergency room,” Black replied. Lawrence decided not to point out that Black looked like a government spook, not a super hero.
Black pulled up to a nondescript door on the side of the building. There was no sign, and when Lawrence pulled on the door it was locked. Black pushed a button on the intercom next to the door. “Ms. X sent us,” he said, and the door buzzed open.
“How did you know about this?” America asked, struggling with Lawrence to hold up Torch. Apparently he had gone into shock at some point during the ride, and was barely walking.
“The important thing is now you know too,” he said. An orderly appeared right inside the doorway with a wheelchair and helped Torch into it. The three heroes followed them into a small but well decorated lobby. The orderly wheeled Torch through a set of double doors, but instead of following Lawrence stopped to take in the place.
Black immediately tossed himself into one of the chairs and picked up a magazine. Lawrence took America by the hand and they walked up to the registration desk. “What is this place?” he asked the receptionist.
She blinked at him. “Why the League’s private hospital of course,” she said. “What happened to your friend?”
“He caught himself on fire.”
“Ah. He must be Torch,” she said, turning to her computer. “We were warned that we had a pyrokinetic in the training program.”
“Come sit down,” Black called without looking up from his magazine. “Have some coffee.” Lawrence noted an expensive coffee machine on a table, along with a tray of pastries and muffins.
“Why didn’t Stone and Valkyrie tell us about this place?” America asked Black, while Lawrence still wondered how Black knew.
“We’re not in the league yet,” Black said. “They’re not going to tell us all their secrets, now are they?”
“I think a secret hospital is one they should have let us in on,” America said, a hard edge to her voice.
“I’m not going to disagree,” Black replied.
“I hate all this secrecy!” America burst out suddenly. “It’s not fair!”
“No, it isn’t fair,” Black agreed, still not looking up.
America bit back a scream of frustration. Lawrence grabbed her by the hand and pulled her way. She gripped his hand too tightly. “Why don’t you go do a few laps around the building?” he suggested.
“Why?”
“To calm down?” In her eyes he could see defiance, but eventually she conceded.
“Okay. I’ll be back in a little bit.”
“I’ll check on Torch,” he told her, and America left through the way they came. Lawrence glanced at the receptionist, who was working on her computer, so he stepped through the double doors.
The doors opened into a small area with a few beds in it and branched into two hallways. Someone in nurse scrubs went into a room down one hall, so Lawrence followed. Torch was laying in the bed still in his costume, a woman in a white coat examining his hands. “Is he going to be okay?” Lawrence demanded.
The doctor looked up. “It’s not so bad. Second degree, probably. But he’s had them before.”
Torch nodded slightly. They already had an IV in his arm. “It’s okay,” he told Lawrence. “I’m used to it.” He let his head fall back on the bed. “What’s a little more scar tissue?”
“We’ll keep him here for a day or two, just to make sure,” the doctor continued. “He’ll be fine.”
“Do you want us to stay?” Lawrence asked Torch.
“They gave me morphine--I’m good.”
Lawrence smiled through his worry. “You’re not stuttering.”
“That happens on morphine,” Torch said. “Really, I’m fine. Go on.” Lawrence turned to leave. “Hey, KP?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. And thank Black for putting me out. It was really decent of him.”
“Sure thing. America and I will come check on you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
******
Glory started with a few laps around the building, but after nearly colliding with an ambulance she slowed down and widened her loop to include the whole block, moving slow enough that people could at least see her, and she instinctually moved around them with no problem. She didn’t know how Black knew about the hospital, and she didn’t care. She only cared that she didn’t know about it. She could understand them not being allowed into headquarters right away, but this was medical care. It was important. What if they had gone to the normal emergency room and Torch had burnt his face and they cut his mask off? What would have happened then?
She ran for about half an hour, but her anger had not cooled, when, going past Black’s car, KP’s arm shot out and caught her, nearly knocking the wind out of her. “Sorry,” he offered. “I tried calling your name the last time you passed, but you didn’t seem to hear me.”
“I was thinking.”
“Torch is going to be okay,” he said. “They’re keeping him overnight
though. Let’s go.”
“I think I’ll just run home.” She looked away from the hurt expression on his face. “I’m sorry, I know you’re stressed too, but I need to run this out. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay,” he said, and she kissed him to make up for it. “Call me later.” He climbed into the passenger seat of Black’s car, and America began to run again, this time straight--straight through the city and into the suburbs before her anger abated, and she was too tired to run back. She fished her cell phone out of her pocket and called Lola for a ride, sitting down under a tree in someone’s front yard to wait.
A/N:
So sorry for last week! This is last weeks update, today, which should have been up last week, except I had the plague and its finals and everything is a mess.
This week's chapter will be up either later today or monday, depending on how my english lit class goes.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Ch 8 Week 6
“What’s with you?” Glory asked Lola Tuesday morning before they left for class. The newspaper lay between them on the table while they ate--Richard Wyler’s wife was filing for divorce before he had a chance to give away her alimony. The story was all over the place--Glory didn’t know what to make of it.
“Mid-term blues?” Lola suggested, but Glory knew her friend was lying.
“Try again.”
“I don’t know,” Lola admitted with a sigh, letting Glory in for once, tired of secrets. “I just feel…empty. Alone.”
“It’s my fault!” Glory exclaimed, guilt flooding her system. “I’ve been running around doing my super hero thing, bragging about my costume, about Valkyrie and Romeo--of course you feel left out!” She should have known immediately. Lola didn’t make friends easily--Glory was probably all she had in this new place, and she’d more or less forgotten all about her.
“No, Glory,” Lola tried to say.
“You don’t have to deny it--we both know its true,” Glory continued. “I have all of these new friends and you never mention anyone--”
“I’ve met a few people,” Lola protested. “Um, three. Sort of.”
“I’ll tell you what--I do have to go to my meeting Saturday afternoon, but I’ll tell KP I’m busy, and you and I can stay in and have a proper girls’ night, okay?”
“I’m--” Lola was about to tell her no and Glory gave her a glare. “Yeah. That sounds like a great idea. Are you sure you don’t mind blowing off your date?”
“Friends have to come before boyfriends,” Glory assured, meaning it.
*****
“I saw her again,” a girl whispered to her friend behind Lola in the middle of Psychology. She was good at tuning people out, but the next thing caught her attention. “The blond girl in the mask.”
“Yeah? A friend of mine has a class with the blue one. She got special permission--no one knows what her real name is and she wears a mask all the time.”
“Weird.”
“I know. Anyone in this room could have secret powers.” Lola thought about using her secret powers to shut them up.
“I dare you to talk to one of them next time you walk by Memorial Hall. That‘s where they hang out and why no one else ever has classes there. it’s like, League headquarters.”
“The only one I want to talk to is Romeo Avenger.” There was an eruption of giggles from the two girls and the professor gave them a sharp look. “Or Dark Lothario,” her friend said, triggering more giggles. Lola put her head on her desk and groaned.
Lola knew she should have been jubilant in the days following her successful brainwashing of Richard Wyler. The day after her visit he called a press conference and announced he was giving away his fortune to save the rainforest. The city had gone crazy--the story even bumped Dark Lothario off the news for a few days. She was thrilled that her plan had worked, but she hated that no one knew that she was the cause of his new personality. As she drove her BMW to school she felt like she was driving a clunker, and she when walked across campus she felt invisible. She had changed the world a little bit that day, but no one knew except her minions. She knew that was as it should be, but it still bothered her, leaving her in a rotten mood. Once she had finished school she could take on her super villain persona full-time, but that was years and years away….
To make her day even better when she exited the classroom Lawrence Lawrence was waiting for her. “I don’t want to deal with you,” she said. “Go away.” She began to walk, but Lawrence followed behind her.
“Just give me your name,” he pleaded.
She turned around to look him in the eye. “Go away,” she repeated, this time ordering him. He faltered and blinked, as though he were fighting some sort of internal conflict.
“Not until you tell me your name.”
Lola nearly screamed with frustration. “It’s Lola, okay?”
She started walking again, moving as fast as her high heels would let her. “Lola, huh?” Lawrence said, still behind her. “That’s a good name. It’s nice to put a name with the face after all these weeks. Look, I wanted to--”
“Take me out to coffee, I know,” she said, slowing down to consider. Here was a guy who had managed to resist her on two occasions. That was interesting. She’d never met anyone--especially a male anyone--who’d been able to do that. She stopped walking in the middle of the hall, forcing everyone else to swarm around her. Lawrence surprised her by grabbing her hand and pulling her to the side before she was run over.
“Are you okay?”
“Just stress,” she offered. She studied him, looking into his soft, pleading eyes. “Okay. We’ll go out for coffee.”
*****
Lawrence sat dumbfounded and amazed, staring at Lola drinking coffee with him. Him. It was incomprehensible. He could understand America’s draw to the Kinetic Professor. He was a super hero, and she was so sweet and innocent. Lola didn’t know the meaning of either word. Why someone like her would give him the time of day was impossible to guess, but he wasn’t going to complain. She sat sideways in her seat with one knee crossed over the other, revealing long beautiful legs in grey tights under her black sweater dress.
He was staring at her legs when she realized his coffee cup was trying to float off the table top and grabbed the handle before Lola noticed.
“Are you still undecided?” she asked him. “On your major?”
“How did you--”
“We’ve been here before,” she said, her voice deadpan.
“Right. I’m a little fuzzy over--”
“Don’t worry about it.” She had the most commanding voice, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to simply do what he told her.
“Well,” Lawrence said, “I’m thinking I might like to teach. I like the idea of always having summer vacations, you know?”
“What level?”
“Definitely college,” he said, shuddering at the thought of teaching children--or teenagers. “I just haven’t really decided what subject…”
“From what I’ve taken so far, Psychology is fun, but Neuro-engineering is much more challenging. I’m going for a double major.”
“Psychology and Neuro-engineering?” She was beautiful and brilliant. How lucky could he get? He tried not to think about America. Because Lola, Lola was amazing.
“I’m very interested in the human mind,” she said. “I want to cover both the psychological and physiological aspects. Really, they go hand in hand.”
“That’s fascinating.”
“My roommate thinks it’s crazy.”
He laughed. “Well clearly, your roommate is an idiot.”
“I love her dearly,” Lola said, “but she is simple and naïve in her ways.”
“That’s too bad.” Lola sighed. “So what’s really wrong?” he asked her. He had a distinct feeling the only reason she had agreed to come with him was because she didn’t have the energy to say no.
“What do you think about going to school here?” she asked instead.
He shrugged. “The weather sucks.”
“I mean, with the League being here and all.”
He shrugged again, trying to be non-committal. Officially there was no training program at the University Noir, but everyone knew about it. “I guess it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“It doesn’t bug you that there are people running around with super powers, but no one knows about it?” He shrugged again. She looked so serious holding her coffee cup with both hands. “I could have super powers, and you’d never know.”
“I think I would have noticed you running around in a mask.”
“Lola could be my secret identity. I could be anyone.”
The way she was looking at him made him nervous. He laughed to shrug it off. “And Lawrence Lawrence could be mine.”
Her laughter was real. “I couldn’t imagine a cute little thing like you fighting crime,” she said, standing up. “I’m going to get more coffee. Do you want a refill?”
*****
“A quick announcement,” Romeo said as Glory took the place between Chameleon and Cloud in the front row for their Saturday training session. “Instead of your usual meeting with Stone and Valkyrie on Wednesday you’ll each have a separate meeting while they assess your powers.” Everyone looked around at each other.
“A t-test?” Torch stuttered, and Glory looked around to see what was going to catch on fire. Above Romeo a basketball hoop burst into flames. It burnt out before anyone rushed to the fire extinguisher, bits of charred net falling to the floor in front of him.
“Calm down,” Romeo said. “You won’t be graded. The league just wants to see what levels you’re all at. Some of you might have an expert sitting in to help assess.”
“What if we don’t do well?” KP asked.
“It depends.”
“We wont be kicked out, will we?” Glory said, raising alarm.
“No one will be kicked out of the program, so you can all relax. Just see me before you leave so I can give you your assessment times and locations.”
Glory watched KP during their training with Romeo Avenger that night. They were learning how to spar and Romeo had teamed them up by height, so KP was working with Torch and Glory was paired with Chameleon. KP had barely looked at her all evening, and she was beginning to worry. “Pay attention!” Chameleon said when Glory narrowly missed being hit in the face by her friend. “With your super-speed you should be avoiding me no problem.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“How do you feel about the aptitude test next week?”
“Oh.” She’d nearly forgotten about that. “Fine. I’m actually curious to see how fast I really am. It’s never been measured.”
“I’m a little nervous.” Glory couldn’t see why. Chameleon was a very difficult person to spar with--she was the color of the bleachers behind her, and Glory found herself focusing more on her clothes to gauge where she was. “I know I’m really good at blending,” Chameleon continued. “It’s the unbending that concerns me.”
“Well, how important is that in the long run?”
“Very important, when it comes to being normal.”
They both paused at the sound of a small explosion and turned. KP and Torch were standing six feet apart with a scorch mark on the floor between them. “I’m sorry,” Torch said, his voice tiny, making him look even smaller than he normally did.
“Normalcy is overrated,” Glory said, staring at the burned floor.
She caught KP later as he was coming out of the men’s locker room, his hair damp from the shower. “Hey.”
“Oh, hey America.”
“Where’s your brain been today?”
“Trying not to get blown up,” he replied.
“Before that. You’ve been distant all day.”
“School stuff.”
“That‘s what you said last time I asked you if there was something wrong. Don‘t lie to me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s real life, secret identity stuff. I’ll be better.”
This is why identities are a bad idea. They lead to secrets. She did her best to smile. “You’d better be better,” she said. “I know I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
He smiled, and it seemed sincere. “Yes, you are.” He pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead.
“I have bad news though,” she said, watching for his reaction. “I have to cancel our date this weekend.”
“Why?”
“Girl issues. My best friend needs me. You understand.”
“Of course.”
He didn’t seem upset enough. Was their relationship over already? He had hardly given it enough chance to begin.
*****
It was just coffee, Lawrence told himself as he left Memorial Hall that evening, watching America go off on her own. She only walked a few paces before she was off in a blond flash, disappearing across campus. It was two cups of coffee--he’d met again with Lola on Thursday. Lola didn’t seem to have any interest in Lawrence beyond friends, but he was going to take whatever he could get. I’m not doing anything wrong. He stared down the quad after America. It wasn’t cheating if nothing happened.
“KP?” Lawrence turned and saw Torch, hands behind his back. He was still wearing the fire-proof outfit Mim had found for him. Torch wore it all the time now, Lawrence noted, even under his clothes. Lawrence had seen him changing after practice--there were burns all over his slight frame. The suit protected him from himself.
“What’s up?”
“I just wanted to apol-apologize for nearly setting you on f-fire today.”
“It happens,” Lawrence said, trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. The truth was, it had been a slightly terrifying experience.
“I know it h-happens,” Torch said. “It always happens--that’s the p-problem.”
“You’ll learn to control it,” Lawrence said, trying to be gentle. If Torch didn’t calm down he was going to set something else on fire. “That’s why we’re here.”
“P-people have tried to fix me before you know,” Torch said. “Psycho therapy, drugs--”
“I’m sorry.”
“It never worked. They had me in a stain--a stainless steel room before I came here.”
“You-you were institutionalized?”
“That was the only place I couldn’t hurt anyone but myself. I should g-go back.”
“No, no,” Lawrence said. “It’s not your fault that things catch on fire.”
“If I c-could c-control my emotions b-better it wouldn’t happen.”
“That comes with time,” Lawrence said. “Look at Chameleon or Cloud.” The former was a different color every time Lawrence looked at her, and the latter spent most of their training sessions with Romeo floating several inches to several feet above ground.
“But they c-can’t hurt anyone.”
“Not true,” Lawrence said quickly. “Cloud kicked Righteous in the head the other day, remember?”
Torch cracked a smile. “It was f-funny.”
“And I can’t control my powers very well either,” Lawrence said, finishing.
“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you d-do anything,” Torch admitted.
“That’s because I’m not very good.” He didn’t like admitting it, but he knew it was the truth. He wasn’t looking forward to the aptitude test the next week at all. “But powerful emotions do seem to send things flying around the room.”
“So how do you avoid it?”
He remembered his floating coffee cup earlier that week. There had been a few near misses since that first cup of coffee with Lola. “I try not to feel anything.” And until America and Lola, that hadn’t been a problem.
******
Glory came home from her training that Saturday with her hands full of grocery bags. Unable to reach for the knob, she kicked on the door until Lola opened it. Lola had obviously been home for a while--she was wearing sweat pants and a tank top with no bra, her hair wet and wrapped up in a turban of a towel. “You look gorgeous,” Glory joked and handed off some of her bags.
“What did you do?” Lola asked, looking in the bags, “Rob a grocery store?”
“We need snacks for a girls night. Did you order the pizza?”
“It’ll be here in fifteen minutes. And look what I got.” She dumped Glory’s bags on the table and held up two 4 packs of wine coolers.
“How did you get those? We’re underage.”
Lola gave her a slightly wicked grin. “I can be very persuasive.”
“It’s against the law.”
“So does that mean you don’t want any?”
“I didn’t say that--lets put a movie on.”
*****
“I’m okay now,” Lola told Glory half way through their John Hughs marathon. The pizza box sat open and empty on the floor in front of them, and both girls were sipping on wine coolers.
“Will you tell me what was wrong?”
“I’ll tell you what’s right,” Lola said instead, ignoring the question she would like so much to answer. “I went out for coffee with a boy--twice.”
Glory let out a small squeal. “Excellent, Lola!”
“It’s not like that--he’s just a friend.”
“If it wasn’t ’like that’ you wouldn’t be telling me like its some deep dark secret. What’s he like?”
Lola mused. “Like a puppy,” she said finally. “Like a geeky little puppy.”
Glory, stifling a laugh, snorted. “That’s not your usual type.”
“My type?”
“You know--twenty-somethings with two hundred dollar haircuts and accents.”
“Not true.”
Glory rolled her eyes. “There was that guy over Christmas break last year--”
Lola smiled a little. “Antonio. That was in Italy.”
“And that French guy--”
“Jean-Luc. That was the summer of ‘09.”
“You’ve only ever had vacation boyfriends,” Glory said. “You never had one in school before. This is good for you.”
“The boys at school were lame.”
“Of course they were. Do you know how many times I had to defend you at our high school?”
“No one liked me but you,” Lola said, turning sober.
“I’m your best friend. I kinda’ have to like you.”
“I guess I was never lonely before this year because having you was enough,” Lola said, and she knew immediately that it was true. She was always so much richer than everyone else, and that put up a barrier that became taller and wider as she grew older. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have friends--she did--but Glory was the only one who really cared.
“I’m sorry I’m so busy all the time.”
“No--you’re doing exactly what you need to be doing. You always knew you were destined for greater things.” She had no right to complain about anything Glory did, when she was the one leading the lie. Glory would hate her if she knew…
“Glorious things.”
Lola smiled. “Yes. Glorious. You need to go on being Glorious. I’m fine.”
“You’re sure.”
“Yes. Besides, now I have Lawrence Lawrence to keep me company.”
Glory laughed. “His name is Lawrence Lawrence?”
******
A/N: So I've been informed that there is already a "Mindmistress" running around the internet as a webcomic, so Lola needs a new name. I want something vaguely BDSM-y, you know? Gold star to anyone who can come up with something good.
You guys got a treat this chapter--it's 3000 words long. Cool, huh? I have a feeling a lot of you are going to get mad at Lawrence in the next few chapters....but I'm having a blast with him, so dont get too mad.
“Mid-term blues?” Lola suggested, but Glory knew her friend was lying.
“Try again.”
“I don’t know,” Lola admitted with a sigh, letting Glory in for once, tired of secrets. “I just feel…empty. Alone.”
“It’s my fault!” Glory exclaimed, guilt flooding her system. “I’ve been running around doing my super hero thing, bragging about my costume, about Valkyrie and Romeo--of course you feel left out!” She should have known immediately. Lola didn’t make friends easily--Glory was probably all she had in this new place, and she’d more or less forgotten all about her.
“No, Glory,” Lola tried to say.
“You don’t have to deny it--we both know its true,” Glory continued. “I have all of these new friends and you never mention anyone--”
“I’ve met a few people,” Lola protested. “Um, three. Sort of.”
“I’ll tell you what--I do have to go to my meeting Saturday afternoon, but I’ll tell KP I’m busy, and you and I can stay in and have a proper girls’ night, okay?”
“I’m--” Lola was about to tell her no and Glory gave her a glare. “Yeah. That sounds like a great idea. Are you sure you don’t mind blowing off your date?”
“Friends have to come before boyfriends,” Glory assured, meaning it.
*****
“I saw her again,” a girl whispered to her friend behind Lola in the middle of Psychology. She was good at tuning people out, but the next thing caught her attention. “The blond girl in the mask.”
“Yeah? A friend of mine has a class with the blue one. She got special permission--no one knows what her real name is and she wears a mask all the time.”
“Weird.”
“I know. Anyone in this room could have secret powers.” Lola thought about using her secret powers to shut them up.
“I dare you to talk to one of them next time you walk by Memorial Hall. That‘s where they hang out and why no one else ever has classes there. it’s like, League headquarters.”
“The only one I want to talk to is Romeo Avenger.” There was an eruption of giggles from the two girls and the professor gave them a sharp look. “Or Dark Lothario,” her friend said, triggering more giggles. Lola put her head on her desk and groaned.
Lola knew she should have been jubilant in the days following her successful brainwashing of Richard Wyler. The day after her visit he called a press conference and announced he was giving away his fortune to save the rainforest. The city had gone crazy--the story even bumped Dark Lothario off the news for a few days. She was thrilled that her plan had worked, but she hated that no one knew that she was the cause of his new personality. As she drove her BMW to school she felt like she was driving a clunker, and she when walked across campus she felt invisible. She had changed the world a little bit that day, but no one knew except her minions. She knew that was as it should be, but it still bothered her, leaving her in a rotten mood. Once she had finished school she could take on her super villain persona full-time, but that was years and years away….
To make her day even better when she exited the classroom Lawrence Lawrence was waiting for her. “I don’t want to deal with you,” she said. “Go away.” She began to walk, but Lawrence followed behind her.
“Just give me your name,” he pleaded.
She turned around to look him in the eye. “Go away,” she repeated, this time ordering him. He faltered and blinked, as though he were fighting some sort of internal conflict.
“Not until you tell me your name.”
Lola nearly screamed with frustration. “It’s Lola, okay?”
She started walking again, moving as fast as her high heels would let her. “Lola, huh?” Lawrence said, still behind her. “That’s a good name. It’s nice to put a name with the face after all these weeks. Look, I wanted to--”
“Take me out to coffee, I know,” she said, slowing down to consider. Here was a guy who had managed to resist her on two occasions. That was interesting. She’d never met anyone--especially a male anyone--who’d been able to do that. She stopped walking in the middle of the hall, forcing everyone else to swarm around her. Lawrence surprised her by grabbing her hand and pulling her to the side before she was run over.
“Are you okay?”
“Just stress,” she offered. She studied him, looking into his soft, pleading eyes. “Okay. We’ll go out for coffee.”
*****
Lawrence sat dumbfounded and amazed, staring at Lola drinking coffee with him. Him. It was incomprehensible. He could understand America’s draw to the Kinetic Professor. He was a super hero, and she was so sweet and innocent. Lola didn’t know the meaning of either word. Why someone like her would give him the time of day was impossible to guess, but he wasn’t going to complain. She sat sideways in her seat with one knee crossed over the other, revealing long beautiful legs in grey tights under her black sweater dress.
He was staring at her legs when she realized his coffee cup was trying to float off the table top and grabbed the handle before Lola noticed.
“Are you still undecided?” she asked him. “On your major?”
“How did you--”
“We’ve been here before,” she said, her voice deadpan.
“Right. I’m a little fuzzy over--”
“Don’t worry about it.” She had the most commanding voice, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to simply do what he told her.
“Well,” Lawrence said, “I’m thinking I might like to teach. I like the idea of always having summer vacations, you know?”
“What level?”
“Definitely college,” he said, shuddering at the thought of teaching children--or teenagers. “I just haven’t really decided what subject…”
“From what I’ve taken so far, Psychology is fun, but Neuro-engineering is much more challenging. I’m going for a double major.”
“Psychology and Neuro-engineering?” She was beautiful and brilliant. How lucky could he get? He tried not to think about America. Because Lola, Lola was amazing.
“I’m very interested in the human mind,” she said. “I want to cover both the psychological and physiological aspects. Really, they go hand in hand.”
“That’s fascinating.”
“My roommate thinks it’s crazy.”
He laughed. “Well clearly, your roommate is an idiot.”
“I love her dearly,” Lola said, “but she is simple and naïve in her ways.”
“That’s too bad.” Lola sighed. “So what’s really wrong?” he asked her. He had a distinct feeling the only reason she had agreed to come with him was because she didn’t have the energy to say no.
“What do you think about going to school here?” she asked instead.
He shrugged. “The weather sucks.”
“I mean, with the League being here and all.”
He shrugged again, trying to be non-committal. Officially there was no training program at the University Noir, but everyone knew about it. “I guess it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“It doesn’t bug you that there are people running around with super powers, but no one knows about it?” He shrugged again. She looked so serious holding her coffee cup with both hands. “I could have super powers, and you’d never know.”
“I think I would have noticed you running around in a mask.”
“Lola could be my secret identity. I could be anyone.”
The way she was looking at him made him nervous. He laughed to shrug it off. “And Lawrence Lawrence could be mine.”
Her laughter was real. “I couldn’t imagine a cute little thing like you fighting crime,” she said, standing up. “I’m going to get more coffee. Do you want a refill?”
*****
“A quick announcement,” Romeo said as Glory took the place between Chameleon and Cloud in the front row for their Saturday training session. “Instead of your usual meeting with Stone and Valkyrie on Wednesday you’ll each have a separate meeting while they assess your powers.” Everyone looked around at each other.
“A t-test?” Torch stuttered, and Glory looked around to see what was going to catch on fire. Above Romeo a basketball hoop burst into flames. It burnt out before anyone rushed to the fire extinguisher, bits of charred net falling to the floor in front of him.
“Calm down,” Romeo said. “You won’t be graded. The league just wants to see what levels you’re all at. Some of you might have an expert sitting in to help assess.”
“What if we don’t do well?” KP asked.
“It depends.”
“We wont be kicked out, will we?” Glory said, raising alarm.
“No one will be kicked out of the program, so you can all relax. Just see me before you leave so I can give you your assessment times and locations.”
Glory watched KP during their training with Romeo Avenger that night. They were learning how to spar and Romeo had teamed them up by height, so KP was working with Torch and Glory was paired with Chameleon. KP had barely looked at her all evening, and she was beginning to worry. “Pay attention!” Chameleon said when Glory narrowly missed being hit in the face by her friend. “With your super-speed you should be avoiding me no problem.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“How do you feel about the aptitude test next week?”
“Oh.” She’d nearly forgotten about that. “Fine. I’m actually curious to see how fast I really am. It’s never been measured.”
“I’m a little nervous.” Glory couldn’t see why. Chameleon was a very difficult person to spar with--she was the color of the bleachers behind her, and Glory found herself focusing more on her clothes to gauge where she was. “I know I’m really good at blending,” Chameleon continued. “It’s the unbending that concerns me.”
“Well, how important is that in the long run?”
“Very important, when it comes to being normal.”
They both paused at the sound of a small explosion and turned. KP and Torch were standing six feet apart with a scorch mark on the floor between them. “I’m sorry,” Torch said, his voice tiny, making him look even smaller than he normally did.
“Normalcy is overrated,” Glory said, staring at the burned floor.
She caught KP later as he was coming out of the men’s locker room, his hair damp from the shower. “Hey.”
“Oh, hey America.”
“Where’s your brain been today?”
“Trying not to get blown up,” he replied.
“Before that. You’ve been distant all day.”
“School stuff.”
“That‘s what you said last time I asked you if there was something wrong. Don‘t lie to me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s real life, secret identity stuff. I’ll be better.”
This is why identities are a bad idea. They lead to secrets. She did her best to smile. “You’d better be better,” she said. “I know I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
He smiled, and it seemed sincere. “Yes, you are.” He pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead.
“I have bad news though,” she said, watching for his reaction. “I have to cancel our date this weekend.”
“Why?”
“Girl issues. My best friend needs me. You understand.”
“Of course.”
He didn’t seem upset enough. Was their relationship over already? He had hardly given it enough chance to begin.
*****
It was just coffee, Lawrence told himself as he left Memorial Hall that evening, watching America go off on her own. She only walked a few paces before she was off in a blond flash, disappearing across campus. It was two cups of coffee--he’d met again with Lola on Thursday. Lola didn’t seem to have any interest in Lawrence beyond friends, but he was going to take whatever he could get. I’m not doing anything wrong. He stared down the quad after America. It wasn’t cheating if nothing happened.
“KP?” Lawrence turned and saw Torch, hands behind his back. He was still wearing the fire-proof outfit Mim had found for him. Torch wore it all the time now, Lawrence noted, even under his clothes. Lawrence had seen him changing after practice--there were burns all over his slight frame. The suit protected him from himself.
“What’s up?”
“I just wanted to apol-apologize for nearly setting you on f-fire today.”
“It happens,” Lawrence said, trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. The truth was, it had been a slightly terrifying experience.
“I know it h-happens,” Torch said. “It always happens--that’s the p-problem.”
“You’ll learn to control it,” Lawrence said, trying to be gentle. If Torch didn’t calm down he was going to set something else on fire. “That’s why we’re here.”
“P-people have tried to fix me before you know,” Torch said. “Psycho therapy, drugs--”
“I’m sorry.”
“It never worked. They had me in a stain--a stainless steel room before I came here.”
“You-you were institutionalized?”
“That was the only place I couldn’t hurt anyone but myself. I should g-go back.”
“No, no,” Lawrence said. “It’s not your fault that things catch on fire.”
“If I c-could c-control my emotions b-better it wouldn’t happen.”
“That comes with time,” Lawrence said. “Look at Chameleon or Cloud.” The former was a different color every time Lawrence looked at her, and the latter spent most of their training sessions with Romeo floating several inches to several feet above ground.
“But they c-can’t hurt anyone.”
“Not true,” Lawrence said quickly. “Cloud kicked Righteous in the head the other day, remember?”
Torch cracked a smile. “It was f-funny.”
“And I can’t control my powers very well either,” Lawrence said, finishing.
“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you d-do anything,” Torch admitted.
“That’s because I’m not very good.” He didn’t like admitting it, but he knew it was the truth. He wasn’t looking forward to the aptitude test the next week at all. “But powerful emotions do seem to send things flying around the room.”
“So how do you avoid it?”
He remembered his floating coffee cup earlier that week. There had been a few near misses since that first cup of coffee with Lola. “I try not to feel anything.” And until America and Lola, that hadn’t been a problem.
******
Glory came home from her training that Saturday with her hands full of grocery bags. Unable to reach for the knob, she kicked on the door until Lola opened it. Lola had obviously been home for a while--she was wearing sweat pants and a tank top with no bra, her hair wet and wrapped up in a turban of a towel. “You look gorgeous,” Glory joked and handed off some of her bags.
“What did you do?” Lola asked, looking in the bags, “Rob a grocery store?”
“We need snacks for a girls night. Did you order the pizza?”
“It’ll be here in fifteen minutes. And look what I got.” She dumped Glory’s bags on the table and held up two 4 packs of wine coolers.
“How did you get those? We’re underage.”
Lola gave her a slightly wicked grin. “I can be very persuasive.”
“It’s against the law.”
“So does that mean you don’t want any?”
“I didn’t say that--lets put a movie on.”
*****
“I’m okay now,” Lola told Glory half way through their John Hughs marathon. The pizza box sat open and empty on the floor in front of them, and both girls were sipping on wine coolers.
“Will you tell me what was wrong?”
“I’ll tell you what’s right,” Lola said instead, ignoring the question she would like so much to answer. “I went out for coffee with a boy--twice.”
Glory let out a small squeal. “Excellent, Lola!”
“It’s not like that--he’s just a friend.”
“If it wasn’t ’like that’ you wouldn’t be telling me like its some deep dark secret. What’s he like?”
Lola mused. “Like a puppy,” she said finally. “Like a geeky little puppy.”
Glory, stifling a laugh, snorted. “That’s not your usual type.”
“My type?”
“You know--twenty-somethings with two hundred dollar haircuts and accents.”
“Not true.”
Glory rolled her eyes. “There was that guy over Christmas break last year--”
Lola smiled a little. “Antonio. That was in Italy.”
“And that French guy--”
“Jean-Luc. That was the summer of ‘09.”
“You’ve only ever had vacation boyfriends,” Glory said. “You never had one in school before. This is good for you.”
“The boys at school were lame.”
“Of course they were. Do you know how many times I had to defend you at our high school?”
“No one liked me but you,” Lola said, turning sober.
“I’m your best friend. I kinda’ have to like you.”
“I guess I was never lonely before this year because having you was enough,” Lola said, and she knew immediately that it was true. She was always so much richer than everyone else, and that put up a barrier that became taller and wider as she grew older. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have friends--she did--but Glory was the only one who really cared.
“I’m sorry I’m so busy all the time.”
“No--you’re doing exactly what you need to be doing. You always knew you were destined for greater things.” She had no right to complain about anything Glory did, when she was the one leading the lie. Glory would hate her if she knew…
“Glorious things.”
Lola smiled. “Yes. Glorious. You need to go on being Glorious. I’m fine.”
“You’re sure.”
“Yes. Besides, now I have Lawrence Lawrence to keep me company.”
Glory laughed. “His name is Lawrence Lawrence?”
******
A/N: So I've been informed that there is already a "Mindmistress" running around the internet as a webcomic, so Lola needs a new name. I want something vaguely BDSM-y, you know? Gold star to anyone who can come up with something good.
You guys got a treat this chapter--it's 3000 words long. Cool, huh? I have a feeling a lot of you are going to get mad at Lawrence in the next few chapters....but I'm having a blast with him, so dont get too mad.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Ch 7: Week 5
Kent Hall was a labyrinth, as far as Lawrence was concerned. He’d found the bathroom, but wasn’t sure if he could find his way out again. Classes were letting out and the halls were becoming choked with people. He saw her hair first, and then those legs, clad in grey tights and knee-high boots. She turned her head and he caught sight of those eyes, and the girl he had tried so hard to forget was standing in front of him--no--walking away. He hurried after her. “Hey! Wait!” A shiver rushed through his body when he touched her shoulder.
She spun around to face him. “Yes?”
“Um…” What had happened to his voice? “I think we had coffee once.”
He saw recognition in her face. “Lawrence Lawrence,” she said, and he breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn’t been a dream.
“That’s right.”
“You shouldn’t remember me.”
“Shouldn’t I?”
“I told you--” She hit her forehead with her palm. “Forget this conversation,” she muttered to herself. “Not forget me.”
“I could never forget you,” he said, confused, but hardly caring. “Do you want to go get coffee again?” he asked.
“Of course not,” she said. “Excuse me--I have to go.”
“Wait a minute. What’s your name?” He tried to follow her but there were too many people. She left him standing in the middle of the hall, jostled by other students, as he watched her hurry away. He looked up and made note of the room she had come out of, and what time it was. Now that he knew she was real, he wasn’t going to let her just disappear again.
It wasn’t until later, sitting in class, that he remembered he had a girlfriend.
******
Glory wore her new costume to their next meeting. It was a training session, so the boys were all dressed in normal work-out clothes (they had all bypassed the tights except for Torch, since Mim had a tasteful black outfit made up of fabric that repelled fire), but Cloud and Blue were both wearing their outfits. “Mine’s not ready,” Chameleon said, looking at them longingly. “Since Mim had to make it up from nothing.”
Even though red was not her color Glory felt good to be in costume, and nearly danced over to KP. “Tell me I’m beautiful,” she demanded.
“You know you are,” he said, not looking up from where he was stretching on the floor. His eyes were somewhere on the floor in front of him.
She sat down at his side. “You didn’t even look at me.”
He gave her a guilty glance. “Sorry. My mind is pretty full at the moment.”
“Full of what?” she asked. Instead of answering he leaned over and kissed her, in front of everybody. Behind her Chameleon whistled, and Glory blushed as she pulled away. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” he said, embarrassed himself.
Glory glanced around. The entire class was watching them. “I’m not much for public displays of affection,” she said.
“Sure you are,” Chameleon called across the room.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll try to remember.”
At that point Romeo came into the room, calling them to attention. “Whatever is wrong,” Glory said, “we’ll talk about it after class.”
After their session they all gathered in the lounge, but Glory pulled KP into the now empty girls’ locker room. “Are we okay?” she asked him. “You seemed distant earlier.”
“Yeah, we’re fine,” he said. “School’s just been rough lately.”
“You don’t even have a major,” she said. “I’m sure you’re getting all A’s in everything. What is it really?”
Instead of answering her he kissed her, pulling her close until she was pressed up against him. His mouth was urgent against hers, and he pushed her backward until she was pinned between his body and the set of lockers, one of the handles digging painfully into her lower back. “Stop it,” she said, pushing him away. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing you?”
“It doesn’t feel like it,” she said. They had only been going out a few weeks, and between school and their League meetings they didn’t spend that much time together outside of Memorial Hall. Their kisses and handholding had been chaste and innocent. She didn’t feel they were at the level of unabashed passion against walls.
“I’m sorry,” he said. His mask had gone askew while he was kissing her and she could see one of his eyebrows. Somehow this made him shockingly exposed to her. “I haven’t been myself today.” He frowned. “I don’t know who ‘myself’ is.”
Glory replied, her voice firm and commanding. “I’ll forgive you, this time. But don’t screw up again.”
“I promise.”
“Okay. Let’s go back to the others…they already think terrible things about us after your display in the gym earlier.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, and followed her meekly out the door.
******
When America forgave him in that warning tone, she reminded him of his mystery woman, and he felt guilty all over again. He knew now that he had to be careful about over-compensating. America was an innocent after all. Lawrence laughed at himself as he walked back to his dorm. An innocent. As though he had any more experience than she did. He didn’t tell her that she was his first girlfriend, his first kiss. She didn’t need to know how pitiful he was in real life. As The Kinetic Professor he could be anything he wanted, even an experienced lover. Except America wasn’t ready for that, and he wasn’t either.
In his room he took a cold shower and threw himself naked on the bed, again glad that he didn’t have a roommate. He thought about America, and his dark-haired goddess. They were both beautiful, and he wasn’t sure he could chose one over the other. It doesn’t matter, he told himself. She doesn’t want anything to do with you. Except she remembered his name when he couldn’t remember hers. What did that mean?
It was a long time before Lawrence finally fell asleep.
******
“Stupid, stupid,” Lola was still lecturing herself hours after her encounter with Lawrence Lawrence. Had she made any other mistakes during her search for proper minions? She walked up the stairs to her lair in her new costume, running over everyone she had talked to that week in her mind. No, no. Lawrence was the only was she had been careless with.
“No harm done,” she said to herself, but didn’t believe it. He had abnormal memories now, and they were of her. Why did I mess up? she thought. He was a puppy, a pet. He barely looked old enough to be in college. But she had found that attractive when she first met him, and it still held true that afternoon. Maybe she wanted a pet.
She opened the door to her lair to be greeted by Hannah and Kioshi. The former immediately began to exclaim over her new costume, while the latter’s eyes couldn’t help but travel over her figure. Pets? Who needs pets when I have minions?
Now that she had a costume Lola was ready to go out and cause some damage, and Hannah and Kioshi were prepared and eager to storm Wyler Industries.
Lola was perfectly satisfied with walking in the front doors and simply brainwashing everyone she came in contact with, but the Lawrence Lawrence fiasco reminded her that not all minds could be swayed, so she didn’t argue when Hannah and Kioshi suggested a more stealthy approach.
They entered Wyler Industries through a loading dock in the back of the building and moved through the maintenance department. “His office is on the top floor of course,” Hannah said, glancing at the floor plan she had tracked down. “There should be a service elevator down this--” she paused while she turned the paper around, “--that hallway.”
Lola couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “I hired you because you’re supposed to be the best.”
“Biology major,” Hannah protested. “Not cartographer.” But they found the elevator with no problems. As they rode up Hannah looked at Lola with bright, wide eyes. “This is the most fun I’ve had in months,” she said. “Thank you.”
Lola smiled. “We haven’t gotten to the fun part yet.” She couldn’t help but be pleased. If Hannah was enjoying herself that meant Lola had chosen well.
They encountered no one in the halls, but Wyler had a secretary, a skinny, plastic-perfect blond that Lola immediately disliked. “What the hell are you?” she demanded reaching for the phone, no doubt to call security. Something flashed through the air and knocked the receiver out of her hand. She cried out as a shining throwing star clanked to the floor when it hit the wall behind her.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” Hannah said to Kioshi, impressed.
“I’ve been practicing for six years--I never expected to actually need to use one.” The look on his face and the sound of his voice suggested that he was just as impressed with himself as Hannah.
Lola approached the woman, who was still rubbing her injured hand. “You can’t just walk in here like a bunch of goth rejects,” she started, but Lola cut her off.
“Reject?” she hissed. “I am the Mind Mistress, and you will obey me.”
The woman looked into her eyes. “I will obey you.” Lola was using her powers for her very first crime. She felt light and almost giddy.
“You are going to go take a break,” Lola told her. “At Doughnut Land, across the street. You will have no recollection of this meeting. Your only memory will be eating cream sticks. They are your new favorite food. You want them three times a day.”
“I think I want a cream stick,” the secretary said, standing up and reaching for her jacket and purse from a coat rack behind her desk.
“Good girl,” Lola said and watched her go.
“Cream sticks?” Kioshi questioned once she was gone.
“She called us goth rejects,” Lola said, bristling. “And I think she could stand to gain thirty pounds.”
Hannah, who was no twig herself, grinned. “I love you boss.”
But there were more important matters than playing with secretaries. There was a double door leading into Wyler’s office, and Lola threw them open, marching in with Hannah and Kioshi side by side behind her.
Wyler was a paunchy, balding man in his fifties. He stood in his shirt sleeves with a putter in his hands, practicing golf on a strip of Astroturf. “What the hell is this?” he demanded as Hannah stepped forward and took the golf club from his hands. As he was too surprised to react, she met no resistance.
“Have a seat,” Lola said, still speaking normally. She wanted to play with him a little bit before getting down to business.
“Ordering me around my own office--what the hell do you want?”
“Sit!” This was a command, and Wyler complied, though she doubted he knew why he did it.
He sat down in a chair in front of his desk. “What the hell is wrong with you costumed freaks? Can never leave well enough alone…I have an understanding with you people.” Lola didn’t doubt it. The only difference between Wyler and the criminals on the street was the lack of a mask and an expensive car (Lola had every plan to eliminate that difference). “Dark Lothario is going to hear about this, mark my words.”
“You know Dark Lothario?” Lola demanded, forgetting herself for a moment.
“He throws the best parties,” Wyler shot back.
Behind her Kioshi cleared his throat. Right. Business. “Do you know what your crimes are?” she asked Wyler, hoping that by standing over him she looked scary and intimidating. He laughed.
“Do you think the law can touch me? I’m the most powerful man in the city.”
“Maybe the law can’t touch you,” Lola said. “But I’m not the law. I am order where there is chaos. I make people become whatever I want them to be. I am the Mind Mistress.”
“Nice catchphrase,” he answered sarcastically. “What exactly are you supposed to be?”
“Relax,” she said. “I just want to fix you.”
She thought over the research Hannah and Kioshi had brought her. “You have decided to take a vow of poverty. You will sell all of your assets. You will take a six million dollar pay cut, and use that money to repair the damage you and your company have done. You will give money to social and environmental causes. Anyone working for your company making under fifty thousand a year will get a raise. You will fire the corrupt managers at your plants and replace them with fair, decent people. All new hires will be women and minorities. You will give Maxine Gross a raise, as much as anyone else on the board.” Lola looked up at Kioshi and Hannah. “Am I forgetting anything?”
“The car,” Kioshi offered.
“Right.” She grinned at Wyler. “And you will give me your Lotus. As a gift.”
Wyler reached into his pocket and handed her a set of keys. “Here,” he offered. His voice sounded far away, and Lola wondered briefly if it was too much, too many orders. Oh well.
“Thank you,” she said.
Lola felt giddy as they left, making their way to the parking deck beneath the building. The Lotus was parked in its own special spot right beside the door, a full space open on either side of it. “Who’s up for a spin?” she asked, holding up the keys.
Hannah let out a small whoop and climbed in eagerly when Lola unlocked the door. It was a tight squeeze as Kioshi and Hannah were both tall, but no one seemed to care when they were flying down the highway a short time later with the top down, moving so fast Lola’s mask was in danger of flying off.
“Well?” she asked Kioshi, slowing down enough for her voice to be heard. He had been quiet since leaving Wyler Industries.
His face broke into a smile. “You are amazing.”
Behind them Hannah laughed. “Yeah,” Lola said. “I know.”
*****
A/N: This is really more two chapters in one, which is one of the problems is this week-a-chapter format.
I love Lola's reaction to Lawrence in this chapter, and Kioshi and Hannah. I love those two.
She spun around to face him. “Yes?”
“Um…” What had happened to his voice? “I think we had coffee once.”
He saw recognition in her face. “Lawrence Lawrence,” she said, and he breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn’t been a dream.
“That’s right.”
“You shouldn’t remember me.”
“Shouldn’t I?”
“I told you--” She hit her forehead with her palm. “Forget this conversation,” she muttered to herself. “Not forget me.”
“I could never forget you,” he said, confused, but hardly caring. “Do you want to go get coffee again?” he asked.
“Of course not,” she said. “Excuse me--I have to go.”
“Wait a minute. What’s your name?” He tried to follow her but there were too many people. She left him standing in the middle of the hall, jostled by other students, as he watched her hurry away. He looked up and made note of the room she had come out of, and what time it was. Now that he knew she was real, he wasn’t going to let her just disappear again.
It wasn’t until later, sitting in class, that he remembered he had a girlfriend.
******
Glory wore her new costume to their next meeting. It was a training session, so the boys were all dressed in normal work-out clothes (they had all bypassed the tights except for Torch, since Mim had a tasteful black outfit made up of fabric that repelled fire), but Cloud and Blue were both wearing their outfits. “Mine’s not ready,” Chameleon said, looking at them longingly. “Since Mim had to make it up from nothing.”
Even though red was not her color Glory felt good to be in costume, and nearly danced over to KP. “Tell me I’m beautiful,” she demanded.
“You know you are,” he said, not looking up from where he was stretching on the floor. His eyes were somewhere on the floor in front of him.
She sat down at his side. “You didn’t even look at me.”
He gave her a guilty glance. “Sorry. My mind is pretty full at the moment.”
“Full of what?” she asked. Instead of answering he leaned over and kissed her, in front of everybody. Behind her Chameleon whistled, and Glory blushed as she pulled away. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” he said, embarrassed himself.
Glory glanced around. The entire class was watching them. “I’m not much for public displays of affection,” she said.
“Sure you are,” Chameleon called across the room.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll try to remember.”
At that point Romeo came into the room, calling them to attention. “Whatever is wrong,” Glory said, “we’ll talk about it after class.”
After their session they all gathered in the lounge, but Glory pulled KP into the now empty girls’ locker room. “Are we okay?” she asked him. “You seemed distant earlier.”
“Yeah, we’re fine,” he said. “School’s just been rough lately.”
“You don’t even have a major,” she said. “I’m sure you’re getting all A’s in everything. What is it really?”
Instead of answering her he kissed her, pulling her close until she was pressed up against him. His mouth was urgent against hers, and he pushed her backward until she was pinned between his body and the set of lockers, one of the handles digging painfully into her lower back. “Stop it,” she said, pushing him away. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing you?”
“It doesn’t feel like it,” she said. They had only been going out a few weeks, and between school and their League meetings they didn’t spend that much time together outside of Memorial Hall. Their kisses and handholding had been chaste and innocent. She didn’t feel they were at the level of unabashed passion against walls.
“I’m sorry,” he said. His mask had gone askew while he was kissing her and she could see one of his eyebrows. Somehow this made him shockingly exposed to her. “I haven’t been myself today.” He frowned. “I don’t know who ‘myself’ is.”
Glory replied, her voice firm and commanding. “I’ll forgive you, this time. But don’t screw up again.”
“I promise.”
“Okay. Let’s go back to the others…they already think terrible things about us after your display in the gym earlier.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, and followed her meekly out the door.
******
When America forgave him in that warning tone, she reminded him of his mystery woman, and he felt guilty all over again. He knew now that he had to be careful about over-compensating. America was an innocent after all. Lawrence laughed at himself as he walked back to his dorm. An innocent. As though he had any more experience than she did. He didn’t tell her that she was his first girlfriend, his first kiss. She didn’t need to know how pitiful he was in real life. As The Kinetic Professor he could be anything he wanted, even an experienced lover. Except America wasn’t ready for that, and he wasn’t either.
In his room he took a cold shower and threw himself naked on the bed, again glad that he didn’t have a roommate. He thought about America, and his dark-haired goddess. They were both beautiful, and he wasn’t sure he could chose one over the other. It doesn’t matter, he told himself. She doesn’t want anything to do with you. Except she remembered his name when he couldn’t remember hers. What did that mean?
It was a long time before Lawrence finally fell asleep.
******
“Stupid, stupid,” Lola was still lecturing herself hours after her encounter with Lawrence Lawrence. Had she made any other mistakes during her search for proper minions? She walked up the stairs to her lair in her new costume, running over everyone she had talked to that week in her mind. No, no. Lawrence was the only was she had been careless with.
“No harm done,” she said to herself, but didn’t believe it. He had abnormal memories now, and they were of her. Why did I mess up? she thought. He was a puppy, a pet. He barely looked old enough to be in college. But she had found that attractive when she first met him, and it still held true that afternoon. Maybe she wanted a pet.
She opened the door to her lair to be greeted by Hannah and Kioshi. The former immediately began to exclaim over her new costume, while the latter’s eyes couldn’t help but travel over her figure. Pets? Who needs pets when I have minions?
Now that she had a costume Lola was ready to go out and cause some damage, and Hannah and Kioshi were prepared and eager to storm Wyler Industries.
Lola was perfectly satisfied with walking in the front doors and simply brainwashing everyone she came in contact with, but the Lawrence Lawrence fiasco reminded her that not all minds could be swayed, so she didn’t argue when Hannah and Kioshi suggested a more stealthy approach.
They entered Wyler Industries through a loading dock in the back of the building and moved through the maintenance department. “His office is on the top floor of course,” Hannah said, glancing at the floor plan she had tracked down. “There should be a service elevator down this--” she paused while she turned the paper around, “--that hallway.”
Lola couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “I hired you because you’re supposed to be the best.”
“Biology major,” Hannah protested. “Not cartographer.” But they found the elevator with no problems. As they rode up Hannah looked at Lola with bright, wide eyes. “This is the most fun I’ve had in months,” she said. “Thank you.”
Lola smiled. “We haven’t gotten to the fun part yet.” She couldn’t help but be pleased. If Hannah was enjoying herself that meant Lola had chosen well.
They encountered no one in the halls, but Wyler had a secretary, a skinny, plastic-perfect blond that Lola immediately disliked. “What the hell are you?” she demanded reaching for the phone, no doubt to call security. Something flashed through the air and knocked the receiver out of her hand. She cried out as a shining throwing star clanked to the floor when it hit the wall behind her.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” Hannah said to Kioshi, impressed.
“I’ve been practicing for six years--I never expected to actually need to use one.” The look on his face and the sound of his voice suggested that he was just as impressed with himself as Hannah.
Lola approached the woman, who was still rubbing her injured hand. “You can’t just walk in here like a bunch of goth rejects,” she started, but Lola cut her off.
“Reject?” she hissed. “I am the Mind Mistress, and you will obey me.”
The woman looked into her eyes. “I will obey you.” Lola was using her powers for her very first crime. She felt light and almost giddy.
“You are going to go take a break,” Lola told her. “At Doughnut Land, across the street. You will have no recollection of this meeting. Your only memory will be eating cream sticks. They are your new favorite food. You want them three times a day.”
“I think I want a cream stick,” the secretary said, standing up and reaching for her jacket and purse from a coat rack behind her desk.
“Good girl,” Lola said and watched her go.
“Cream sticks?” Kioshi questioned once she was gone.
“She called us goth rejects,” Lola said, bristling. “And I think she could stand to gain thirty pounds.”
Hannah, who was no twig herself, grinned. “I love you boss.”
But there were more important matters than playing with secretaries. There was a double door leading into Wyler’s office, and Lola threw them open, marching in with Hannah and Kioshi side by side behind her.
Wyler was a paunchy, balding man in his fifties. He stood in his shirt sleeves with a putter in his hands, practicing golf on a strip of Astroturf. “What the hell is this?” he demanded as Hannah stepped forward and took the golf club from his hands. As he was too surprised to react, she met no resistance.
“Have a seat,” Lola said, still speaking normally. She wanted to play with him a little bit before getting down to business.
“Ordering me around my own office--what the hell do you want?”
“Sit!” This was a command, and Wyler complied, though she doubted he knew why he did it.
He sat down in a chair in front of his desk. “What the hell is wrong with you costumed freaks? Can never leave well enough alone…I have an understanding with you people.” Lola didn’t doubt it. The only difference between Wyler and the criminals on the street was the lack of a mask and an expensive car (Lola had every plan to eliminate that difference). “Dark Lothario is going to hear about this, mark my words.”
“You know Dark Lothario?” Lola demanded, forgetting herself for a moment.
“He throws the best parties,” Wyler shot back.
Behind her Kioshi cleared his throat. Right. Business. “Do you know what your crimes are?” she asked Wyler, hoping that by standing over him she looked scary and intimidating. He laughed.
“Do you think the law can touch me? I’m the most powerful man in the city.”
“Maybe the law can’t touch you,” Lola said. “But I’m not the law. I am order where there is chaos. I make people become whatever I want them to be. I am the Mind Mistress.”
“Nice catchphrase,” he answered sarcastically. “What exactly are you supposed to be?”
“Relax,” she said. “I just want to fix you.”
She thought over the research Hannah and Kioshi had brought her. “You have decided to take a vow of poverty. You will sell all of your assets. You will take a six million dollar pay cut, and use that money to repair the damage you and your company have done. You will give money to social and environmental causes. Anyone working for your company making under fifty thousand a year will get a raise. You will fire the corrupt managers at your plants and replace them with fair, decent people. All new hires will be women and minorities. You will give Maxine Gross a raise, as much as anyone else on the board.” Lola looked up at Kioshi and Hannah. “Am I forgetting anything?”
“The car,” Kioshi offered.
“Right.” She grinned at Wyler. “And you will give me your Lotus. As a gift.”
Wyler reached into his pocket and handed her a set of keys. “Here,” he offered. His voice sounded far away, and Lola wondered briefly if it was too much, too many orders. Oh well.
“Thank you,” she said.
Lola felt giddy as they left, making their way to the parking deck beneath the building. The Lotus was parked in its own special spot right beside the door, a full space open on either side of it. “Who’s up for a spin?” she asked, holding up the keys.
Hannah let out a small whoop and climbed in eagerly when Lola unlocked the door. It was a tight squeeze as Kioshi and Hannah were both tall, but no one seemed to care when they were flying down the highway a short time later with the top down, moving so fast Lola’s mask was in danger of flying off.
“Well?” she asked Kioshi, slowing down enough for her voice to be heard. He had been quiet since leaving Wyler Industries.
His face broke into a smile. “You are amazing.”
Behind them Hannah laughed. “Yeah,” Lola said. “I know.”
*****
A/N: This is really more two chapters in one, which is one of the problems is this week-a-chapter format.
I love Lola's reaction to Lawrence in this chapter, and Kioshi and Hannah. I love those two.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Ch. 6: Week 4
Can it possibly be a month already? Glory thought to herself as she walked towards Memorial hall on her way to a meeting. September was coming to a close and fall was beginning to show in the leaves. She had the hood of her jacket up to protect against a fine mist of rain, hands buried in her pockets for warmth. At the doors she met up with KP, and she kissed him, immediately feeling the warmth of his lips, of his arms as they wrapped around her. “Hi,” she said when they separated, and she grinned. It was so nice to have a boyfriend.
“Let’s get inside,” he hurried to open the door and usher her in. The air of the hall was warm and comfortable as they made their way to the conference room where they held Valkyrie and Stone’s lectures. She had been dreading going after her argument with Stone, except that during their previous Saturday training session Romeo had announced that he would be at their next meeting instead. She liked Romeo (what woman didn’t?) and was eager to see what he had to teach them.
They all waited patiently until Romeo arrived exactly on time. “Don’t get comfortable,” he announced. “We’re not staying here today. It’s time for a field trip.”
“Field trip?” Glory asked, interested.
“Yes. We’re going to go pick out your costumes. Even though you wont be going out into the field until next semester, we want you to get them now, to help you get a feel for them, to get comfortable in them. Are you ready?”
Glory and the other girls nodded eagerly. The boys looked skeptical. “Do we have to wear tights?” KP asked.
“Hey,” Glory whispered to him, “I bet you look good in tights.”
Romeo shrugged. “We’ll have to see. Come on then.” He led them downstairs and out a loading dock entrance on the other side of the building. A large white van was waiting for them and they all piled in. Cloud took the passenger seat and the other two girls sat immediately behind them. Glory pulled KP into the second set of seats, leaving the last three boys in the way-back.
“I don’t want to wear tights,” KP said again, and Torch nodded in agreement.
Glory only laughed at them, twisting around in her seat to face the back. “Romeo wears tights,” she offered, and Captain Righteous gave a stifled laugh.
“Romeo’s a fruit,” he said.
“No I’m not,” Romeo called back from the driver’s seat as he started up the van. “Don’t think that super-grace and perfect technique are my only abilities, Righteous. I can hear everything you say.”
Captain Righteous rolled his eyes.
They drove downtown to the main shopping district on Main Street, pulling the van into a parking lot beside a large grey stone building. It’s wide windows were full of mannequins dressed in feather boas, tutus, and even a gorilla suit. The sign said “Hathaway’s Theater and Dance Supply.” It looked like a normal costume shop, and Glory wondered what they were doing there. As soon as they stepped onto the street Romeo was swarmed by a small group of women pushing pens and scraps of paper towards him. Righteous started laughing as Romeo signed autographs.
“You put up with the public,” Romeo explained as he ushered them inside. “You’re their hero, they love you.” He glanced at Righteous, still scoffing. “Besides,” he said, putting his hand on Cloud’s shoulder so she giggled. “Put on a mask and a pair of tights, and women can’t resist you.”
He continued on past Cloud, and Cloud caught Glory’s eye. She couldn’t help but wonder if there was something there. Cloud’s beauty could not be hidden by her mask any more than Glory’s could. She had dark brown hair and smooth skin the same bronze as Lola--Glory wondered if she might be Hawaiian with her dark almond eyes, but didn’t think it was right to ask--the whole secret identity thing.
“Can I help you?” a voice rang out through the store before it attached to a body, emerging from behind a rack of makeup. It was a tall, thin woman, her black hair pulled so tight her eyebrows looked like they were being pulled along too. Her face broke into a wide smile when she saw Romeo.
“Hello Mim,” Romeo said, and they embraced and brushed kisses over each other’s cheeks.
“I almost forgot you were coming,” she said, eyeing the group waiting behind Romeo.
“This is Mim Hathaway,” Romeo introduced. “She’s been doing costumes for the League in this area for fifteen years.”
“It’s my pleasure,” she said. “Most of the east cost comes here for costumes you know--this way.” She led them through the store. They passed displays of greasepaint, a wall of dancing shoes, racks of costumes for familiar shows like The Wizard of Oz and Cats. She pushed aside a rolling rack of poodle skirts and leather jackets and there was a door in the wall. They went through in single-file, Glory leading the other students behind Romeo.
The room opened up like a giant warehouse, and Glory let out the breath she had been holding. In front of them were rack after rack of costumes, and beyond that bolts of fabrics, along with several messy tables with sewing machines, scissors, piles of thread…a young woman a few years older than Glory looked up from one of the tables as they came in. “Go ahead and look around,” Mim said. “See what you like--I can make anything to order as well, if you have something specific in mind. My daughter Zim and I will be coming around to help.”
Glory separated from KP, wandering over to the women’s costumes with the other girls. They were separated on the racks by color, and Glory gravitated over to the pinks.
“This is the best part,” Blue said in her soft voice, flipping through a selection of white outfits.
Chameleon looked at the rainbow of colors and frowned. She pulled a magenta cat suit off the rack and held it up to herself. Immediately she changed the same shade. There was a lot of will power involved in keeping her regular skin tone, and one way she did it was by wearing lots of neutral colors--tans, browns, off-white. Usually she was several shades darker or lighter, depending on her outfit. Immediately Mim was sweeping over to her side. “I see your problem dear,” Mim said, taking her by the hand. “I have some body-heat activated fabric that should help you blend properly.” They crossed the room and soon she had Chameleon wrapped in a grey fabric that turned colors with Chameleon as she blended in with the wall,
the floor, and a red plastic chair.
“America,” Cloud called, holding up a pale blue outfit with a short skirt. “I think it needs a cape.”
“Definitely,” Glory replied, and turned to see Zim at her side. She hadn’t even heard her approach.
“Your name is America?” she asked.
“America the Beautiful,” Glory replied.
“You can’t wear pink!” Zim said, plucking from her hands a skirt made of some sort of shiny pink plastic. “Let me show you our red, white, and blue selections.” She more or less pulled Glory over to one of the longest racks. “All of our outfits are fire and tear-resistant. Most of them will offer some sort of protection from blades--but you’ll want something armored if you want to be bullet proof…” She went through the pros and cons of each fabric, explained why they might prefer one option over the other.
Blue and Cloud listened, but Glory was just looking at the row of patriotic outfits. She looked terrible in stripes. She liked pink. Half her wardrobe was pink; it looked excellent with her hair and skin tone. But at the same time, she knew Zim was right. It didn’t make sense to wear pink with her name. Was it too late to change her name? As Glory she could wear any color she wanted…
In the end she picked out a red costume made out of heavy, clinging silk. “It’s specially spun,” Zim said. “Impossible to rip or tear.” Glory just liked the sound the skirt and short cape made when the fabric moved. It was sleeveless and left her legs bare, but she found a pair of red and gold boots that matched perfectly. They were flat-soled and designed for running and laced up to just under her knees. She stood at the mirror patiently while Mim pinned up the skirt to be hemmed when KP came up to her. He was wearing slacks and a brown tweed jacket.
“That’s not a costume,” she told him, but he smiled.
“It’s lined with Kevlar,” he explained. “Zim is going to design a logo for me and embroider it on some handkerchiefs to put in the breast pocket.
“Cute,” she said. “Are you going to wear a tweed mask too?”
“You don’t like it?”
“I just wanted to tease you about tights,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t like red.”
“It’s a good color for you,” Mim told her. “As for your young man, these days most young male heroes don’t want to wear tights. I’m a traditionalist myself, but what can you do?”
“Indeed,” KP said.
She leaned over and straightened his bow-tie. “I like it,” she said. “You look like a real professor now. It’s called Geek Chic you know.”
******
A bold red super-hero burst into Lola’s bedroom that evening and she jumped in surprise, dropping her book on the floor. As soon as she got over the shock she realized it was Glory. “We got our costumes today,” Glory said, unnecessarily. “What do you think?”
Used to seeing Glory in nothing but pink, Lola found the red to be an improvement and told her so. “Good,” Glory said. “It was the closest thing I could get to pink while still being patriotic.”
“And you went with a cape,” Lola said, the fabric billowing out behind Glory as she spun around to display it.
“I like the way it flows behind me when I run,” she said. Glory proceeded to go over her entire trip in minute detail, and for once, Lola took notice of what would normally be an extremely dull narrative. As Glory told her about Mim and Zim Lola thought of her poor lycra cat suit shoved under the bed. A miracle seamstress was just what she needed.
Lola skipped class the next day to go downtown. Glory hadn’t mentioned a name of a store, but there was only one costume shop in town. “Can I help you?” a woman she supposed to be Mim asked when she walked into the door.
“Take me to your back room,” Lola commanded.
“Yes,” Mim said, and Lola followed her to a plain door in the back of the store.
As soon as they entered another woman stood up from where she was working with some grey material. “Mom? Who’s this?”
“I’m nobody.” Lola’s voice seemed to echo through the big room, and the woman didn’t ask any more questions. “Show me what you have in black.”
She found what she was looking for in the very back, covered in a thin layer of dust. Zim helped Lola zip herself into it and she found a pair of black stiletto boots. Lola stood in front of a half circle of mirrors so she could see herself at all angles. “I look like a dominatrix,” she said, pleased. The suit covered her from ankle to fingertips, but was low cut, showing off cleavage properly supported from the boning that also gave her a proper waist. It was made of a leather-like material (apparently it resisted bullets) and was lined in purple satin so it was fairly comfortable. She looked dangerous and sexy beneath a new leather mask.
“You wont remember me,” she said, turning to the two women who had been so helpful without knowing why. “I was never here. This outfit never existed.”
“You were never here,” Mim and Zim repeated in unison. Satisfied, Lola gathered up her clothes and headed home.
******
A/N:
I spent an entire chapter on a shopping trip, which just shows what a girl I am. (DES had a long shopping sequence too.) I don't have anything especially enlightening to say about this chapter. My favorite bit is the "Romeo is a fruit" exchange between Capt. Righteous and Romeo Avenger.
I'm trying to imbibe the lesser heroes in training with some semblance of personality, even though they dont play huge roles in the narrative. Black is the hardest, probably because of a role he's supposed to have later that I'm not positive will work. Glory has a closer relationship with the girls than I've managed to show so far, but unfortunately most of the story is in the guys.
“Let’s get inside,” he hurried to open the door and usher her in. The air of the hall was warm and comfortable as they made their way to the conference room where they held Valkyrie and Stone’s lectures. She had been dreading going after her argument with Stone, except that during their previous Saturday training session Romeo had announced that he would be at their next meeting instead. She liked Romeo (what woman didn’t?) and was eager to see what he had to teach them.
They all waited patiently until Romeo arrived exactly on time. “Don’t get comfortable,” he announced. “We’re not staying here today. It’s time for a field trip.”
“Field trip?” Glory asked, interested.
“Yes. We’re going to go pick out your costumes. Even though you wont be going out into the field until next semester, we want you to get them now, to help you get a feel for them, to get comfortable in them. Are you ready?”
Glory and the other girls nodded eagerly. The boys looked skeptical. “Do we have to wear tights?” KP asked.
“Hey,” Glory whispered to him, “I bet you look good in tights.”
Romeo shrugged. “We’ll have to see. Come on then.” He led them downstairs and out a loading dock entrance on the other side of the building. A large white van was waiting for them and they all piled in. Cloud took the passenger seat and the other two girls sat immediately behind them. Glory pulled KP into the second set of seats, leaving the last three boys in the way-back.
“I don’t want to wear tights,” KP said again, and Torch nodded in agreement.
Glory only laughed at them, twisting around in her seat to face the back. “Romeo wears tights,” she offered, and Captain Righteous gave a stifled laugh.
“Romeo’s a fruit,” he said.
“No I’m not,” Romeo called back from the driver’s seat as he started up the van. “Don’t think that super-grace and perfect technique are my only abilities, Righteous. I can hear everything you say.”
Captain Righteous rolled his eyes.
They drove downtown to the main shopping district on Main Street, pulling the van into a parking lot beside a large grey stone building. It’s wide windows were full of mannequins dressed in feather boas, tutus, and even a gorilla suit. The sign said “Hathaway’s Theater and Dance Supply.” It looked like a normal costume shop, and Glory wondered what they were doing there. As soon as they stepped onto the street Romeo was swarmed by a small group of women pushing pens and scraps of paper towards him. Righteous started laughing as Romeo signed autographs.
“You put up with the public,” Romeo explained as he ushered them inside. “You’re their hero, they love you.” He glanced at Righteous, still scoffing. “Besides,” he said, putting his hand on Cloud’s shoulder so she giggled. “Put on a mask and a pair of tights, and women can’t resist you.”
He continued on past Cloud, and Cloud caught Glory’s eye. She couldn’t help but wonder if there was something there. Cloud’s beauty could not be hidden by her mask any more than Glory’s could. She had dark brown hair and smooth skin the same bronze as Lola--Glory wondered if she might be Hawaiian with her dark almond eyes, but didn’t think it was right to ask--the whole secret identity thing.
“Can I help you?” a voice rang out through the store before it attached to a body, emerging from behind a rack of makeup. It was a tall, thin woman, her black hair pulled so tight her eyebrows looked like they were being pulled along too. Her face broke into a wide smile when she saw Romeo.
“Hello Mim,” Romeo said, and they embraced and brushed kisses over each other’s cheeks.
“I almost forgot you were coming,” she said, eyeing the group waiting behind Romeo.
“This is Mim Hathaway,” Romeo introduced. “She’s been doing costumes for the League in this area for fifteen years.”
“It’s my pleasure,” she said. “Most of the east cost comes here for costumes you know--this way.” She led them through the store. They passed displays of greasepaint, a wall of dancing shoes, racks of costumes for familiar shows like The Wizard of Oz and Cats. She pushed aside a rolling rack of poodle skirts and leather jackets and there was a door in the wall. They went through in single-file, Glory leading the other students behind Romeo.
The room opened up like a giant warehouse, and Glory let out the breath she had been holding. In front of them were rack after rack of costumes, and beyond that bolts of fabrics, along with several messy tables with sewing machines, scissors, piles of thread…a young woman a few years older than Glory looked up from one of the tables as they came in. “Go ahead and look around,” Mim said. “See what you like--I can make anything to order as well, if you have something specific in mind. My daughter Zim and I will be coming around to help.”
Glory separated from KP, wandering over to the women’s costumes with the other girls. They were separated on the racks by color, and Glory gravitated over to the pinks.
“This is the best part,” Blue said in her soft voice, flipping through a selection of white outfits.
Chameleon looked at the rainbow of colors and frowned. She pulled a magenta cat suit off the rack and held it up to herself. Immediately she changed the same shade. There was a lot of will power involved in keeping her regular skin tone, and one way she did it was by wearing lots of neutral colors--tans, browns, off-white. Usually she was several shades darker or lighter, depending on her outfit. Immediately Mim was sweeping over to her side. “I see your problem dear,” Mim said, taking her by the hand. “I have some body-heat activated fabric that should help you blend properly.” They crossed the room and soon she had Chameleon wrapped in a grey fabric that turned colors with Chameleon as she blended in with the wall,
the floor, and a red plastic chair.
“America,” Cloud called, holding up a pale blue outfit with a short skirt. “I think it needs a cape.”
“Definitely,” Glory replied, and turned to see Zim at her side. She hadn’t even heard her approach.
“Your name is America?” she asked.
“America the Beautiful,” Glory replied.
“You can’t wear pink!” Zim said, plucking from her hands a skirt made of some sort of shiny pink plastic. “Let me show you our red, white, and blue selections.” She more or less pulled Glory over to one of the longest racks. “All of our outfits are fire and tear-resistant. Most of them will offer some sort of protection from blades--but you’ll want something armored if you want to be bullet proof…” She went through the pros and cons of each fabric, explained why they might prefer one option over the other.
Blue and Cloud listened, but Glory was just looking at the row of patriotic outfits. She looked terrible in stripes. She liked pink. Half her wardrobe was pink; it looked excellent with her hair and skin tone. But at the same time, she knew Zim was right. It didn’t make sense to wear pink with her name. Was it too late to change her name? As Glory she could wear any color she wanted…
In the end she picked out a red costume made out of heavy, clinging silk. “It’s specially spun,” Zim said. “Impossible to rip or tear.” Glory just liked the sound the skirt and short cape made when the fabric moved. It was sleeveless and left her legs bare, but she found a pair of red and gold boots that matched perfectly. They were flat-soled and designed for running and laced up to just under her knees. She stood at the mirror patiently while Mim pinned up the skirt to be hemmed when KP came up to her. He was wearing slacks and a brown tweed jacket.
“That’s not a costume,” she told him, but he smiled.
“It’s lined with Kevlar,” he explained. “Zim is going to design a logo for me and embroider it on some handkerchiefs to put in the breast pocket.
“Cute,” she said. “Are you going to wear a tweed mask too?”
“You don’t like it?”
“I just wanted to tease you about tights,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t like red.”
“It’s a good color for you,” Mim told her. “As for your young man, these days most young male heroes don’t want to wear tights. I’m a traditionalist myself, but what can you do?”
“Indeed,” KP said.
She leaned over and straightened his bow-tie. “I like it,” she said. “You look like a real professor now. It’s called Geek Chic you know.”
******
A bold red super-hero burst into Lola’s bedroom that evening and she jumped in surprise, dropping her book on the floor. As soon as she got over the shock she realized it was Glory. “We got our costumes today,” Glory said, unnecessarily. “What do you think?”
Used to seeing Glory in nothing but pink, Lola found the red to be an improvement and told her so. “Good,” Glory said. “It was the closest thing I could get to pink while still being patriotic.”
“And you went with a cape,” Lola said, the fabric billowing out behind Glory as she spun around to display it.
“I like the way it flows behind me when I run,” she said. Glory proceeded to go over her entire trip in minute detail, and for once, Lola took notice of what would normally be an extremely dull narrative. As Glory told her about Mim and Zim Lola thought of her poor lycra cat suit shoved under the bed. A miracle seamstress was just what she needed.
Lola skipped class the next day to go downtown. Glory hadn’t mentioned a name of a store, but there was only one costume shop in town. “Can I help you?” a woman she supposed to be Mim asked when she walked into the door.
“Take me to your back room,” Lola commanded.
“Yes,” Mim said, and Lola followed her to a plain door in the back of the store.
As soon as they entered another woman stood up from where she was working with some grey material. “Mom? Who’s this?”
“I’m nobody.” Lola’s voice seemed to echo through the big room, and the woman didn’t ask any more questions. “Show me what you have in black.”
She found what she was looking for in the very back, covered in a thin layer of dust. Zim helped Lola zip herself into it and she found a pair of black stiletto boots. Lola stood in front of a half circle of mirrors so she could see herself at all angles. “I look like a dominatrix,” she said, pleased. The suit covered her from ankle to fingertips, but was low cut, showing off cleavage properly supported from the boning that also gave her a proper waist. It was made of a leather-like material (apparently it resisted bullets) and was lined in purple satin so it was fairly comfortable. She looked dangerous and sexy beneath a new leather mask.
“You wont remember me,” she said, turning to the two women who had been so helpful without knowing why. “I was never here. This outfit never existed.”
“You were never here,” Mim and Zim repeated in unison. Satisfied, Lola gathered up her clothes and headed home.
******
A/N:
I spent an entire chapter on a shopping trip, which just shows what a girl I am. (DES had a long shopping sequence too.) I don't have anything especially enlightening to say about this chapter. My favorite bit is the "Romeo is a fruit" exchange between Capt. Righteous and Romeo Avenger.
I'm trying to imbibe the lesser heroes in training with some semblance of personality, even though they dont play huge roles in the narrative. Black is the hardest, probably because of a role he's supposed to have later that I'm not positive will work. Glory has a closer relationship with the girls than I've managed to show so far, but unfortunately most of the story is in the guys.
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