Hero Types

Chapter 21

Their names were George and Darling and they both lost their powers that day.
    They had been married five years and fighting crime together for seven. They woke up in the CAA's training room on cots, powerless and with that same colorlessness that Kit had witnessed in Mardie after her encounter with the Raider. She watched the realization hit their faces, and she left the room after that.
    Lucas was fine.
    He was traumatized. He'd received a good blow over the head and gotten a good concussion from it, but his powers were still intact. Kit didn't like to think about what would have happened if she hadn't heard his call at all.
    Mickey remained adamant that it wasn't her fault, and she figured out quickly that she couldn't talk to him about it. He didn't understand. It wasn't his fault. He just wasn't a hero and he would never know the burden that came with being one. When they got back to the CAA and waited for the others to wake up, she patched up the gash in his arm by way of making amends and set the topic aside.
    They ended up on a lot of missions together, because Lucas couldn't take care of much in his current state. He was infuriated that they forced him to do paperwork. Kit thought it was Howe's revenge.
    Mardie was back. She brought in Benji every now and then. There was still no sign of his mother.
    The fridge thieving slowed down, too. Kit checked the reports and found that none had gone missing for a month. She checked her own work to make sure. She couldn't bring it to Lucas. She mentioned it to Mickey, and he thought it was weird, but he didn't seem overly concerned.
    School was going well, and Gran was a lot better. Kit finished the book Mickey had lent her and used it a week later for a paper that she got an A- for. Gran still had trouble remembering words sometimes, and Kit cooked them dinner whenever they didn't order in (which wasn't often).
    School was actually going...weird.
    Kit was too busy to notice much of the gossip those days. Bridget and her posse still whispered behind her back, she was sure, but it just seemed to matter less and less. She was ceasing to care.
    Sometimes it still stung, but she was getting used to it. There were lots of parties that she didn't get invited to. It had always been that way. She had better things to be doing anyway.
    The weirdest thing, for once, wasn't even her.
    Kit had never considered herself attractive. She was a mutt. Dave—or, as Zoe liked to say, Davìd—was Hispanic, and she'd gotten his skin tone but missed out on his big eyes and full lips. Her mom had been half Irish, a quarter English aristocrat (Gran's mother), and a quarter who-knows-what. She was ambiguous and kind of normal looking. Her bangs helped to hide a fair amount of acne.
    For some reason it hadn't ever struck her as weird that Mickey liked her. He just did. It made sense. She thought it seemed like his personality. He was cute, in an apologetically sleazy way, with his oil-stained tank tops and backwards baseball caps. The kind of person who tends to grow on you whether you like it or not, and then one day you realize you're dating them.
   She still wasn't even certain they were dating. They had never really been on a date. Hunting down supervillains didn't count. She couldn't see herself with Mickey five years down the road, but at the same time she really liked him and she didn't want to not be with him in five years. It just didn't seem practical.
    Anyway, she was confident that if a long term relationship somehow arose from their...whatever they were doing, she could convince him to live a healthier life. If they were married or something she could make sure he had enough money to buy food that was actually made of food.
Whoa, whoa whoa, back it up, sociopath, let's not get ahead of ourselves. You might not even be dating.
    Whatever happened, at the moment Kit found herself to be rather average as far as attractiveness goes. Her social interactions had always only affirmed this. Boys didn't flirt with her. Until recently.
    It was like after one boy kissed her it was suddenly open season, and Kit was a prize deer with neon antlers and high-heeled hooves.
    It started with Xander. He was a band geek and she'd spoken to him a few times, and he was nice enough. It completely caught her off guard. He stood behind her in the lunch line, and he tapped her shoulder.
    "Hey, Kit."
    She jumped. "Oh. Um, hi."
    "So, I was wondering if you'd like to, like, catch a movie this Friday or something?"
    "Oh! Um..." The line inched forward, and the lunch lady stared at her expectantly. "I—sorry, I have a boyfriend."
    It kind of fell out. Mashed potatoes slopped onto her tray and she wished she had thought of a better lie. Or a lie at all. That really wasn't much of a lie. Labels didn't always make a difference.
    "Oh. Yeah. That's cool."
    She smiled quickly and skipped the salad bar in order to get away from him.
    It happened again the next day.
    Twice.
    First it was in homeroom that morning, and Toby who sat across from her and was also in a lot of art classes with her asked her out, point blank. It was less of a shock, because they had actually talked before, but she still froze up.
Don't say you have a boyfriend. Don't do it.
    "You know, I actually am really busy. I just don't have time to date right now." And it sounded smooth as hell.
    The third time was in gym class, of all places. And it was Brad, of all people.
    They were playing dodgeball, and because she had been taken out within the first few minutes she was waiting in jail and watching the clock.
Gym credits are fucking useless.
    Brad got nailed in the back of the head as he spun to grab a ball. He groaned and trotted across the gym, and he stooped, panting, with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.
    Kit checked the clock.
    Fifty freaking minutes to go.
    "Hey." She checked behind her. Brad rubbed his sweaty neck and looked at her. "What's up, Kit?"
    She tried not to make a face. "I don't know." What?
    He evidently wasn't listening. "Where do you hang out on Fridays?"
A garage. "Like, my room. I don't know."
    "You want to grab dinner or something, sometime?"
    She had to address it. This was getting weird. It was like they were all in it together. Maybe they were? Was it all some sort of sick scheme?
    "I mean..." she shrugged, "we've never really talked..."
    "Yeah. Yeah, I mean...I'd like to get to know you. We've been in school together since—I mean, yeah. You're, um...you're different, lately." He grinned and ran a hand through his hair. "Kind of cool."
    "I—thanks," she said. "Wow. But, um...yeah..."
    "Yeah? So we'll hang out? Give me your number—"
    "No, I mean—no." She pushed back her bangs. "It's—I'm kind of..." Don't say it. But what if he thinks I'm turning him down? But I am. Why do I care what he thinks, he's an asshole? Because he's kind of hot. "Involved."
    "With...a person? Or a job, or something, because I can work around—"
    "Oh, shit, my, um—you know, I think my period just started, I'm gonna run to the bathroom—"
    She looked at herself in the mirror for a while and mouthed 'What the fuck,' at her reflection. This was getting weird. She wasn't even dressing differently. She was almost scared to step back outside. After being ignored for so long, Kit wasn't quite sure that she wanted to be noticed.
    At least...not by everyone. Then it wasn't as special.