❝Why do always call me Cherry?❞
❝Because your lips taste like Cherries.❞
When teenage supervillain Havoc stands up to the head of the League of Villains, Colby Madden's family is forced to change their identities and relocate to a sleepy Texas subur...
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𝐀𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 the kitchen with the chaos of someone who had rehearsed exactly none of her day. Her backpack hung open, two notebooks dragging across the floor.
"Mom, can you sign this?" she said, waving a crumpled slip of paper like a surrender flag. "Turns out you can't be late to school thirty‑two days in a row."
Eva blinked at her. "Amy, when did you even start going to school?"
"Technically? Today," Amy shrugged. "But apparently the school system doesn't like 'retroactive attendance.' Whatever that means."
Before Eva could comment, Vic strode in with a cup of tea and a raised brow. "Good morning, everybody—" then froze. "Is that Colby?"
A loud metallic clank echoed as the object Amy carried in her other hand wiggled. "Yeah," Amy said, deadpan. "He's a sledgehammer now."
The sledgehammer vibrated indignantly. "I'm a sledgehammer."
"And you're bragging about it?" Eva asked, exasperated. "We need you to turn into something cool. You're like... the cottage cheese of shape‑shifting."
Colby made an offended metallic sputter. "Wow. Rude."
The back door opened, and Aveline wandered in carrying a paper grocery bag pressed to her chest. Her hair was tied up in a lazy bun, and she looked like she had not slept in exactly three days—not unusual for her.
"Oh good, you're all here," she said. "I'm throwing some stuff away. Decluttering. I'm cutting unnecessary things out of my life."
Vic took a sip of his tea and smirked. "Me too. And yet, you're still around."
Aveline rolled her eyes. "Bold trash talk from a man who keeps every receipt he's had since 1987."
Amy drifted closer, peering at Aveline's bag. "What's in there?"
"Things that no longer bring me joy," Aveline said solemnly.
"Aveline," Vic muttered, "that had better not be my vintage lava lamp."
"Relax. That thing absolutely brings me joy," she said, patting the bag.
Eva finally handed the pen back to Amy. "Here. Signed. Maybe try actually attending school once this month."
"Ugh. Fine. Whatever," Amy huffed, stuffing the paper into her backpack.
Aveline looked around, then frowned. "Hey, has anyone noticed Jake's been acting weird the past couple of days?"
"Weirder than usual?" Vic asked. "Considering my son is currently a sledgehammer, my scale for weird is pretty messed up."
Aveline leaned closer to the counter and tapped Colby's metal handle. "Speaking of which—are you stuck like this?"
