S.H.H.A.

Kight, Kightlen, and The In-Between

Golden fields of wheat and corn dried under the hot summer sun flashed by my window as I leaned my head against its cool surface, relieving my oncoming headache. Sandy blonde hair irritated my nose, despite attempts to blow it away.

Mom had phoned Pudding, tasking her to drag me back home. Apparently, dinner would be ready soon, and she wouldn't take "busy, maybe some other time" as an option.

So there I was, sitting beside Apollo in Athena's half-broken down sports car. Thankfully, there wasn't enough room for all of us, so Kelpie had to stay behind. Extra thankfully, Kightlen had returned to their proper place in Kight's body -where the obnoxious spirit belonged.

My seat jolted up and down as the car wheels rolled over my family's rock driveway. A pine forest surrounded our large, old, burgundy house. A thin layer of dust and dirt shaded the windows covered by patterned white curtains. Home sweet home.

Athena pressed down on the breaks, slowing the car to a stop beside the steps that led up to our porch. She leaned over the driver's seat to say her farewell, and my sister and I thanked her and the rest of her team (excluding Kelpie) for driving us.

As I half-heartedly skipped to the door, I recited the lines in my head for explaining my injuries. Since a long sleeve grey shirt -which was painfully hot- covered my shoulder and chest, I'd try to convince her I fell and got bruised up. Things would get tricky if she saw my bandages, but it wouldn't have been the first time.

The sound of Athena's car pulling out as I swung open the front screen door alerted me of her departure. Walking in, the warm scent of baked bread and soup met my sister and me. Soup during the hottest days of summer shouldn't have been appealing, but my starving stomach begged to differ.

"Misha!" shouted my mom over the rumbling of my tummy. I dragged myself into the dining room, letting out a groan of frustration. Why didn't Pudding get called too?

Setting down a steaming bowl of what looked similar to Italian Wedding soup, my mother didn't even look in my direction before commanding, "Set the table."

Strands of ash grey hair tumbled down her cheeks, and the rest was pulled into a tight bun. Mom wore a white tank-top beneath her unbuttoned denim vest. Her sky blue eyes -the same as my own- glanced over me when I didn't immediately set into action.

"What? Did you go deaf again?" she asked, referring to when I had gotten very ill as a child to the extent of going deaf for a few weeks. Her voice was worn from getting raised at me but strong from the yelling practice that came with it.

"No," I dragged out my answer while turning towards the kitchen to retrieve dishes. "I don't have super speed."

"But if you did, you wouldn't use it," commented my mom, or as you may refer to as Mongoose. Actually, as a human, you'd refer to her human identity, Moira Fonseca.

Knowing that she had a point -considering even if I did have super speed, I'd still have to hide it from mom to keep her suspicions of me being a superhero at bay- I let it drop. Even if I could continue the argument, mom always got the last word anyway. Completely unfair for her to add her last word then say "don't you backtalk me, young lady".

Placing the glass dishes and silverware at their proper places on the table, I noticed Pudding standing in the doorway, her hands held behind her back. She sent me a look telling me something was wrong, but then mom arrived with a plater of sliced, freshly baked bread.

"Yum," I said, attempting to reach for a piece only to have my hand slapped away by mom. She wordlessly pulled out a chair and sat down. If I slapped her hand, they would never find my body. Unfair.