Girl With Mask #Wattys2016

Chapter Four

Aya stopped by her house after school on Tuesday. She was basically living in Jessica's guest room, but she might as well keep up the appearance of living in her old house. When she unlocked the front door and stepped into the foyer, the house smelled like wood flooring and Windex. It smelled empty. After taking some shirts from her old bedroom, she went into her mother's room. The quiet suffocated her, so she carefully shut the door behind her. Then she went down to the basement.

They'd hadn't renovated the basement after moving in seven years ago. Being a superhero in Strike's New York task force paid well, but Eliza Glover never got around to using some of that money on the basement. The previous owners had stained the walls' wood paneling, and the carpet felt distinctly crusty to Aya. She hurried across the room to one of the extra bookshelves. A thin box, about the size of Aya's hand, rested the bottom shelf.

Quickly, so she wouldn't lose her nerve, Aya snapped off the box's lid and unfolded its contents. The technology involved in designing such a compressible costume—a costume that could be fitted into a compact or pocket—had been made public twenty-seven years ago, right before sixteen-year-old Eliza Glover manifested.

Aya shook the wrinkles out of Numeral's first costume.

It was made from a slick, synthetic polymer, and its red color almost glowed in the slanting afternoon light that fell through the tiny basement windows. Aya pulled off her school clothing and slid into the costume. Because of its elasticity, she could use the neck to get into it. The sleeves ended in gloves made from the same material, and the pants hardened mid-thigh, forming boots. A helmet unfolded from the neckline of the costume; it was made of a tough glass-like material. Aya could see through it, but from the outside it was an opaque red. The helmet arched down to her nose, and the slick, soft material that made the rest of her costume could be pulled down from the bottom of the helmet to cover her lower-face and neck. A speaker in the helmet dinged to her know the safeties were on; neither the helmet nor the costume could collapse while she was wearing it.

Aya turned around the basement, looking for something to use her new power on. She took a celebrity memoir from one of the bookshelves, and grasped it with both hands. With her eyes fixed to the bright pink cover, she imagined the book splitting like the simulations of asexually reproducing cells she'd seen in biology class. The book heated in her hand, and she almost dropped it, and then a thick pressure squeezed her ears and lungs. Then another book slid into existence halfway across the room.

Examination showed this book to be an exact copy of the book in Aya's hands. In the few days she'd had her power, Aya had never been able to make a duplicate appear so far away from her. She tried again, this time with a pencil, and she selected a point she wanted the pencil to appear. With such a simple object, the universe didn't need to do as much rearranging as it had to do for a complex object like a book. The duplicate appeared directly in front of one the windows lining the top of the basement. Then her iPhone buzzed, reminding her that she was supposed to be at Jessica's.

***

Shorbari Malla was sitting at the kitchen table when Aya got there. "Hello," said Aya, swinging her backpack of her shoulder and sitting in one of the sleek plastic chairs across from Shorbari.

"Aya." Shorbari blinked out of a daze. "Aya. I'm so, so sorry. I know there's nothing I can say to make it better."

"It's okay." Aya felt the familiar chasm in her stomach that happened whenever she thought about her mother. Her eyes tingled, and she pressed her fingers into them. Shorbari stood and came around the table to hug Aya. The buttons on Shorbari's cardigan were cool and felt nice against Aya's hot face. "Where's Jessica?"

Shorbari sat next to Aya, still holding her hands. "She's asleep, and Oliver's at a friend's house. I'm just helping out a little. I ordered Chinese food."

"Cool. Thanks." Aya pulled away from Shorbari and scrubbed at her face. "Ari? Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"What's it like to be a superhero? I know it's dangerous, but I just never thought—I never thought my mom would die."

Shorbari smoothed some dark brown hair behind her ear as she thought. "It's exciting, Aya. And your mother saved lives. She saved lots of lives. But I don't think any of us realize that we're mortal." The words flowed easily, as though Shorbari had thought about this many times before. "Whenever I put on my Lady Night costume, I'm not Shorbari Malla anymore. I'm Lady Night, and I'm fearsome, and bad guys piss their pants when they see me. I'm very cool."

"For a forty year old," murmured Aya.

Shorbari laughed. "For a forty year old," she agreed. "And when you can put someone to sleep with a touch—when you can kill someone with a touch—it goes to your head. It went to my head, when I started out as Night-Night. I nearly killed a bus full of hostages because I acted without thinking. I was on probation for a year."

"Did you ever fight the Fish Queen?" asked Aya. She couldn't keep the growl from her voice.

When Shorbari answered, her voice was cold. "No. But if I ever fight her, I promise you, I'll kill her dead."

Aya smiled, just a little. "Thanks, Ari."

"Don't mention it."