By Jenny North
Artwork by Fraylim and Splutt

"You want me to what?" I said incredulously, certain that I'd misheard him.

Prodigy looked up from the device he was working on. "I told you to drop it. Let it go."

I stared at him, dumbfounded. I'd stayed up half the night working out about how best to approach him with everything I'd learned about Killdozer and Killbane, Harridan's involvement, everything. I was brief, to the point, and methodical, just like he'd taught me. He listened to almost half of my speech before he shot me down.

"I-I can't," I told him. "I won't."

He pointed a finger at me. "Can. Will. If not, door's right over there, girl. Try not to let it hit you on the ass."

"Three people are dead, doesn't that bother you?"

"Three criminals. So...no." Then he regarded me carefully. "Two of whom tried to kill you, as I recall."

"That's not the point."

He scoffed as he returned to his work. "How terribly big-hearted of you."

I dropped a small picture frame on the table in front of him, smack on top of his instruments. The frame was damaged and the picture singed around the edges, but the picture was still clear and showed Dominic and his wife along with Derek as they smiled for the camera. The Morrow family in happier times.

Prodigy tossed his tools on the table. "What the hell is that?"

"I thought you'd want to see the people who are dead because of whatever Harridan is up to."

"Where did you get this?"

I hesitated but did my best to stay firm. "From their house."

"From the crime scene, you mean."

"And the mother wasn't a criminal," I insisted.

"In point of fact, she was, precious," Prodigy said. "I looked her up. Here's her rap sheet. Harboring criminals—"

"Her husband and son!"

"—receiving stolen merchandise, drug possession—"

"Fine! She's a criminal. But nothing in there is a capital offense. She didn't deserve to die."

"Kid, she had two metahuman lunatics living under her roof. One was bound to blow his top eventually."

"But then why were they going straight? Or trying to. It doesn't make any sense," I said. "And if Harridan is involved, I bet Demetria is, too."

"She's not."

"Why not? It all fits! Maybe she put some kind of mind whammy on them—"

"A 'mind whammy?' I see you've decided to base your hypothesis on Saturday morning cartoon logic. Besides, it's not in her nature. Those two reprobates probably found religion or were working a con or something. They—"

I wasn't going to let him blow past me like that. "Wait. Demetria. You know her?"

"Knew," he said. "I met her a long time ago. But enough to know she'd never condone what you're talking about. She abhors violence, a real big-hearted type. I'm sure you'd like her."

"Yeah, well, she may not like violence but Harridan seems to be a big fan. Maybe Harridan is doing this on her own, or maybe she's forcing Demetria somehow. We just have to contact Demetria and—"

"The hell we will. I told you to drop it."

"Fine, then I'll get on the computer and find out who—"

"I said, drop it!" he yelled as he slammed his fist on the desk. He stood up and stalked towards the exit. "Get out of here. No training today. You're probably late for cheerleading practice or some shit, anyway."

* * * * *

That evening I sat in my bedroom stewing as I plucked disconsolately at the hem of the pastel blue skirt that I was wearing. It was bad enough getting unceremoniously sidelined like that by Prodigy, but I was finding it difficult to work up a really good sense of righteous umbrage when I had to constantly fuss with my barrette to keep the blonde hairs of my wig out of my face. But with three people dead there was no way that I was letting it go just because Prodigy had a bug up his butt.

"Well, that sucks," Caleb said sympathetically from the video chat window on my laptop. "So I guess you're not dropping it?"

"You guess correctly."

"That's weird he waved you off like that. You think he's in on it?"

That caught me by surprise. "Why would you say that?"

"Chris, those two villains didn't just toss on new costumes, they managed to register as heroes somehow. Which means somebody did it who hacked the registration system. Which you said he'd done, right?"

"Yeah."

"And then he freaked out when you told him you wanted to use his computer. Maybe he's afraid of you finding something?"

I absently ran my fingers along the thumb drive that Demetria had given me, the one that she claimed would give me full access to Prodigy's computer. "I don't get it. If they're in on it together, why would she give me this?"

Caleb shook his head. "He tells you to trust her, and she tells you not to trust him. My head's ready to explode."

"Neither one of them wants me involved. But as far as I'm concerned, that's reason enough for me to get involved," I said resolutely. I turned to look out the window, wondering what I was getting myself into. Messing around with these old-school heroes was dangerous, especially for a lone sidekick like me.

When I turned back, Caleb had a stupid grin on his face.

"What?" I sighed.

He shook his head. "It's nothing," he said, still grinning.

"Caleb..."

"It's just...it's really funny when you talk all serious and heroic and your earrings are swinging back and forth like that."

"Oh, my God," I groaned.

"Hey, don't blame me! Maybe next time don't wear your dangly teddy bear earrings to the grim 'lives are on the line' meeting."

"They're not teddy bears!"

"They look like teddy bears."

"No, they're little flowers, see?" I said as I leaned closer to the camera.

"If you say so," he said skeptically.

We both froze as we suddenly became aware how profoundly stupid this conversation had become. Then a look of concern crossed Caleb's face.

"Oh, man, I just had a thought," he said. "What if you're right, and there's something really dangerous going on, and we—as in you and me—really are the last line of defense?"

"Caleb—"

"Think about it. I mean, I always knew there were the big alien threats to the city and stuff, but I figured the big guys like Arcturus or Promethean had that covered. But what if like all the time there are these other threats to the city and without anybody knowing it, it falls to guys just like us to save everyone from disaster?"

That stopped me in my tracks. That was absolutely horrifying. Seriously, I didn't think I was going to get any sleep that night with that idea running over and over in my brain.

"Man, that'd be awesome!" Caleb enthused.

I closed my eyes and shook my head in disbelief as I felt my dangly flowered earrings tug playfully on my ears. I then sighed and looked up at the poster of Promethean that graced my wall and shifted uncomfortably in my dress as my hero seemed to look down at me with a knowing smirk.

"I bet you never have days like this," I muttered.

* * * * *

Prodigy was a night owl but I figured that he had to sleep sometime, so I waited until just before dawn the next morning to enter the garage so that I could sneak a peek at his computer. I edged quietly inside and nervously darted my eyes around as I strained to hear for any sign he might still be there, but the only sound was the regular ambient noise of the generators. The lights were still on, but that was his custom. One time as we'd climbed into the car I'd suggested turning them off if we weren't going to be there anyway, and he gave me an angry glare and muttered something under his breath about having a tree-hugging hippie for a sidekick.

I paused for a moment to make sure I hadn't tripped any alarms...or at least none of the ones that he'd informed me about. My pulse raced and my palms began to sweat as I wondered if this was a good idea. Not only was I a bit afraid of what I might discover, but if he caught me like this, things could go south in a big hurry.

I took a slow, quiet breath. Just stay stealthy, I thought.

"Hey, Chris, how's it going?" Caleb shouted in my ear.

I jumped about a foot and frantically dialed down the volume on the earpiece. "Jeez, don't do that!" I hissed.

"Hey, do me a favor and take some pictures, willya? It's my first superhero lair. I'm curious." It sounded like he had something in his mouth and I could hear crunching sounds.

"Caleb, I'm a little on edge here, okay? So do me a favor and be quiet and put down the Funyuns."

There was a long pause followed the crinkling sounds of the bag being rolled up. "Fine," he grumbled.

I made my way over to the computer and punched in my access code. Prodigy had given it to me with the understanding that it was only to educate myself on his operations or to assist in our cases at his direction. I only had limited access but he'd guarded it jealously and only relented after I'd pointed out that I could get more information online through my cell phone than he'd been giving me. And even then it had been accompanied with a warning of dire consequences if he caught me surfing YouTube for instructional makeup videos or dance tutorials.

I took one last look over my shoulder and pulled out the thumb drive that Demetria had given me and regarded it apprehensively. "Okay, here goes," I said as I gently slid it into the port.

For a minute it didn't look like anything was happening and I worried that I'd just been party to installing some Trojan Horse malware on his machine...or worse, that Prodigy's computer detected and prevented the intrusion and was even now alerting him to the failed attempt.

"Anything?" Caleb asked.

"Not yet," I said nervously as the seconds ticked past. "Okay, forget it. I'm pulling it—whoa."

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I—I'm in," I said as I examined the complicated menus. Like most things Prodigy had built, the interface was uniquely designed to his specific needs and work processes, so they were tricky to navigate. But I was in.

"What kinds of games does he have?" Caleb asked.

"Caleb..."

"Dude, I'm just messing with you," he said as I heard the smile in his voice. Then, "Hey, it's not weird when I call you 'dude' when you're a girl, is it?"

"Kinda trying to concentrate, here."

"Sorry. Do you see the link to the Hero Registration database?"

"Just a minute. I want to check something else first."

"What?"

I tapped at my I-Comm and skimmed through the list of photos that I'd taken. "This whole mess started the night that we fought Killbane and his father, when Harridan just happened to be in the neighborhood that first time. I want to know more about what they were after." I found the picture I took of the crate the two villains were trying to steal and punched in the long alphanumeric identifier.

The search engine beeped in response and it practically echoed in the quiet garage.

"Ugh," I said as I perused the complicated technical readouts. "I understand maybe ten percent of this. I think it's some kind of broadcast device. Something to do with warp space."

"You mean like that comm device you use to open up your warp locker?" Caleb asked. "Maybe they're hacking into other people's warp storage?"

"I dunno. It might explain why the Sanctuary is so big if they're tapping into other adjacent spaces, I guess."

"Dude, you're wasting time. You need to find the link to the registration database."

"Yeah, okay." Tense minutes passed as I navigated through the labyrinth of menus and tried to remember how Prodigy had done it. Suddenly there was a noise behind me and I almost yelped until I realized it was the air conditioner recycling.

"This isn't working," I said.

"Chris, this is taking too long. You need to get out of there."

"One more minute."

My eyes rested on the tangle of wires visible behind the computers and cut over to Prodigy's messy workbench. "Security through obscurity," I whispered as I remembered how my mom had overlooked my I-Comm sitting out in the open in my cluttered bedroom.

I realized that I had been making things too complicated. I went back to the main menu and toggled the user profile so I was viewing the limited menu of options he'd given me. When he'd given me that data pad of known metahumans to study he'd also given me access to the same data on the computer, so I tried pulling up the metahuman dossiers.

"Caleb. That data pad that Prodigy gave me. Do you have it handy?" I'd loaned it to him after he whined for an hour about seeing it. He was even more of a superhero groupie than I was, and all the little-known trivia in there was like gold to him.

"Yeah, but that's no good. I already checked, the records we want aren't there."

I nodded to myself. I figured that Prodigy wasn't going to be that trusting. "See if there's a record in there on Blamestorm."

"Nope. Nothing."

"That's funny, 'cause I've got one here," I said as I skimmed over the entry. Now that I was in the list of dossiers, Demetria's little toy had unlocked access to the complete list. Blamestorm's entry was sketchy and didn't have any of Prodigy's personal notes, but had a link back to the Hero Registration system. I clicked on it.

"Here we go," I said. "He registered as a Sidekick less than two weeks after I fought him as Killbane."

"Does it say who sponsored him?"

"Crud. Yeah, it says it was Viridian."

Caleb made a little grumble. "So that's a dead end, right? If Derek's dad registered as Viridian, he wouldn't need a sponsor since he's an adult."

I clicked back and searched for Viridian. Sure enough, it was a standalone registration as a Hero. "Well, the two of them registered within minutes of each other, I guess that counts for something."

"Not much."

I pounded the desk in frustration since I knew Caleb was right. This was hardly the smoking gun I'd been looking for. But then I thought back to how Double-Decoy had renamed herself Beguiler and had an idea.

I ran another search.

"Gotcha!" I said. "Check this out. There's no link between these new registrations and Demetria, but two unascended metas had been camping on the names 'Blamestorm' and 'Viridian' before those two snatched them up. Just minutes before Derek and his father registered as heroes, both of these mysterious benefactors dropped their claims to the names. Wanna guess which organization those unascended metas were affiliated with?"

"The Sanctuary."

"Yep, it's Demetria, all right."

"Wow, nice sleuthing, Sherlock," Caleb said. "You know, I think you might actually be smarter as a girl."

"Nice." Then I noticed something. The link to cross-link to Demetria's record was grayed out. I looked down at Demetria's thumb drive. Was it blocking access to her own data, or was there something in Prodigy's computer preventing it?

"Caleb, check the data pad. Is there an entry for Demetria?"

A pause. "Nada."

All of Prodigy's secrets were starting to seriously piss me off. "Fine. I'll do it the other way," I said as I pulled up Prodigy's file on himself. It was a mishmash of data as it included information on previous cases, gadgets and technology, and a dozen other topics, but I didn't see anything on Demetria. But something else grabbed my attention.

"God," I whispered.

"What is it?"

"It's the list of Prodigy's former sidekicks. There are so many," I whispered as I scanned over the list and read the entries. "He just grinds them up and spits them out! He—yikes."

"What?"

"I'm looking at the injuries they suffered. This is like a revolving door into the emergency room."

"Well, it's a dangerous business, right?"

"Sure, but not like—" Then something caught my eye. "Just a minute. I want to check one thing."

Caleb already knew what I was thinking. "Don't do it, Chris."

It was too late. I'd already opened up my own entry.

Caleb was silent for several seconds. "What's it say?"

"It says I lack initiative."

"Huh. I guess it could be worse. What else?"

"Nothing else. That's the entire entry. 'Prodigious Girl: Lacks initiative.'"

"Well, that isn't—"

"Where the hell does he get off? 'Lacks initiative?' My prodigious butt, I lack initiative! Not only do I do all the heavy lifting and act as his personal human shield, but most of the time he chews me out for diving in! Does that sound like someone who lacks initiative to you?"

"I guess not, but—"

"Ooh!" I steamed. "For months this jackhole rides me, and when it comes time to do my assessment he writes two lousy words? Oh, this is rich. Why, if he was here, I'd—"

"Who are you taking to?" Prodigy demanded as he entered the garage.

I looked up in alarm and shut off my I-Comm unit as I yanked the thumb drive from the slot. "Who, me? Nothing. Nobody. I was just talking to myself," I stammered as I frantically tapped at the keyboard.

"Well, you're just a bottomless pit of neuroses, aren't you? But you'd better not be fucking around with the computer!" he warned as he saw me sitting there.

"I—"

"I swear to God, if you've been using my machine to send your boyfriend naked pictures of yourself—!"

"What? No!" I cried as he looked at the screen, which now displayed the dossier for Nymphobrainiac. "I just figured after our fight I'd look her up and see what I could have done differently." I gritted my teeth as I forced a smile. I was still of a mind to vent my ire at him, but it was a little hard to grab the moral high ground while I still had my hand in the cookie jar.

He looked at me suspiciously. "Good idea," he said finally. For a glimmer of an instant I thought it might be genuine praise, but naturally it was just setup for another bitingly sarcastic remark. "Yep, hundreds of potential perps out there, and you're studying the only one you know for a fact is behind bars. That's brilliant."

"Just trying to show a little initiative," I growled.

"Yeah, well, as long as you're here, try showing me a little more of your ass getting into the car. The Malefissions are pulling a heist downtown."

"Who?"

"I see you're making good progress reviewing those metahuman dossiers. I guess they're not as captivating as watching the Real Housewives of Batshit Arkansas."

"There's a lot of material to read!" I complained as I slammed the car door shut. (After hearing me tell this story, my publisher informed me that the proper word to use here would be "whined." We've agreed to disagree, though I feel that the audio book version will vindicate me.)

* * * * *

On the way to the fight I sat quietly seething the entire ride as I brooded over his dismissive appraisal of my efforts, to say nothing of the fact that I now seemed to have incontrovertible proof of Demetria's involvement in whatever was going on with Blamestorm and Viridian's deaths. But of course the only way I could say how I got it was by admitting that I hacked into Prodigy's own computers, so I wasn't inclined to share that with my mentor, especially since I still had a suspicion that he might be involved in some way.

So with all that on my mind I might perhaps be forgiven for operating at something less than peak performance.

Forgiven by anybody else, that is.

After we (and by "we" I mean "I") endured a particularly heinous thrashing at the hands of the Malefission triplets, Prodigy squealed into the garage and immediately jumped out to download the video of our fight to critique my performance and add insult to the injury I had endured. He, of course, had managed to emerge without a scratch thanks in no small part to hiding behind my invulnerable ass.

Very delicately I lifted myself out of the car as I grimaced at the deep tissue aches and pains that I knew I'd be feeling for a few days.

"You're getting sloppy," he chided me. "One of those stray energy blasts might have hit a bystander."

Might have hit him, he meant. "There were three of them! What was I supposed to do, wear a 'free hugs' sign? I'm getting pummeled out there!"

"Quit your bellyaching. Nobody said this was easy. Besides, you're getting all that publicity you wanted, aren't you?"

"Somebody has to talk to the press," I shot back, annoyed by his favorite taunt. Yes, I liked the spotlight, but that was hardly the only reason I was out there. A convenient side effect of my shapeshifting power was that I could mask the cuts and bruises I received from my frequent beatings, at least cosmetically. So whenever I was interviewed after a fight I always looked fresh as a daisy even though I was quite literally dying a little on the inside. It was like a metaphor for my life.

"So, any chance I'll get to be something more than the target dummy?" I sniped as he typed away at the computer.

"You ever read Batman comics? Girls these days do that kind of shit, right?"

"Sure."

"You ever wonder why Batman is always dressed in dark shadowy colors but his teenage sidekick wears a bright yellow cape?" he said acerbically. "Well, wonder no more." I was about to say something snarky, but he cut me off and growled, "As far as I'm concerned, you're nothing more than a tool to be used. Like the devices on my utility belt, just not as reliable."

"Oh, come on!" I exploded. "I've done everything you've ever asked of me! I've taken plenty of hits for the team, I've put up with your snide remarks. When does it end?"

"If you can't put up with a few cuts and bruises, maybe you're not cut out for being a hero. Maybe you should just scamper back to the mall to get a manicure and flirt with the boys."

"You know what? A line like that might have worked on me once upon a time, but I deserve this. And—and—screw you for going there, anyway! I am a hero. And no crotchety old geezer with his sad worn out costume and beat-up gadgets is going to tell me otherwise."

"So, you've got some fire in your belly after all."

"Oh, so this is supposed to be another test? Trying to see if I'm committed enough to be your student?"

"No, this is me telling you to get lost. You're no good to me."

"What?"

"You heard me, princess. Get out."

For a second I thought he might be joking until I realized he was serious. I couldn't believe my ears, but since this looked like the end there was no way I was going to miss the opportunity to tell him off.

"You know, at first I thought you were like a drill sergeant who just wanted to toughen me up. And then later, I thought it might be some 'wax on, wax off' bullgunk that was somehow teaching me lessons even while you humiliated and belittled me. But that's not it at all, is it? This is just a freaking meat grinder where you chew up and spit out hopeful young heroes and demolish their dreams!"

"Yeah, well, the door is right over there, sugar. Now you'll have plenty of time to grind the meat with your hunky football-playing boyfriends."

"Ooh!" I yelled inarticulately, still reeling from the betrayal.

"Oh, don't act so shocked. I know what you've been up to."

"Y-you do?" I stammered, worried that he knew about my hacking into his computer.

"I've been on to you since the first night we met. Hell, I told you as much. You're just hanging in and batting your eyelashes at me until I kick the bucket or retire so that you can get my name. Well, allow me to spare you the suspense—it ain't gonna happen, girl. Ever. So why don't you run along and sell your swill to some other schmuck, or better yet just hang it all up and go date some half-brained teenage jock, get married, and be a mommy. I guarantee you'll do more good for the city that way."

I stood there trembling as my entire body tensed up and I gripped my fists so tightly I thought I was going to draw blood. I wanted an insult to hurl back at him, something to hurt him the way he'd hurt me. But when he just sniffed at me derisively and turned his back to work on the computer, I just gaped at him in disbelief and stood there mutely, angry at both him and my own passivity. I spun around and didn't even bother going out the secret entrance and instead just flew straight up and smashed through the roof with a resounding crash without looking back.

* * * * *

"Jesus," Caleb whispered. He sat staring at me as I paced back and forth in his bedroom as Chris. Just Chris—not the female-dressed Chris, not Carly, not Prodigious Girl—I'd had about enough of that girly stuff.

"Miserable old fossil," I muttered. "Saying he doesn't need me? Well, I don't need him. I never needed him."

Caleb nodded in agreement. "That was a dumb idea anyway, trying to cozy up to him so he'd give you his name."

"That was your idea!"

"No, I'm pretty sure that was you."

I shot him an angry glare.

"I might be misremembering," he admitted quietly. Then after a moment he said, "So...what now?"

I sighed and ran my hand through my hair and was momentarily startled by how short it was. Usually when I had crises of this magnitude it was a lot longer.

"I don't know," I said. "I don't know who else to turn to. Demetria and Harridan are up to something, and if Harridan's taunt about 'three days' was real then if I'm lucky I've only got until tomorrow night to get to the bottom of it. I just wish I had somebody I could count on."

Caleb scoffed but I let it pass.

"Maybe I can talk to Trixie," I said.

Caleb looked at me like I was crazy. "You're kidding, right? For all you know, she's in on it!"

"I trust her! She—she understands."

His eyes narrowed as he looked at me like he was noticing something for the first time. "This is a girl thing, isn't it?"

"What? No!"

He jumped up out of his chair. "It is, isn't it?" He took a step closer and sniffed the air. "What is that?" he asked suspiciously.

"What's what?"

He leaned closer and sniffed again. "It smells like fruit." He drew back in alarm. "Oh, my God, are you wearing perfume?"

"No!"

"You are."

"I'm not!" I insisted. He continued to glare at me accusingly and I gave a timid little shrug. "It's watermelon and mint juice," I told him. "I have problem pores."

"No, you don't. You're a guy, remember? The girl whose skin you copied to make PG's body has 'problem pores,'" he said, waggling his fingers to make air quotes. "Or have you forgotten?"

"And just what is that supposed to mean, hmm?" I put my hands on my hips and raised my chin just slightly in a challenging pout. Based on Caleb's reaction I could tell that my prim reaction wasn't scoring me any points.

"You can't even see it, can you?" he said, incredulous. "You've gone native."

"I have not!"

"You have!" He looked at me in disgust and edged back away from me like I was contagious. "You and your girl friends are probably out there swapping makeup tips and giggling about boys."

"It's not like that!" I insisted. "I'm just trying to blend in." Then I decided to take the offensive. "Besides, all this girl hero stuff was your idea, remember?"

"Oh, so now it's my fault?"

"Well, it's not my fault!" I cried. If I'd stopped to think about it, I would have recognized this pithy banter as the work of two angry and defensive lizard brains arguing with each other. And this wasn't exactly Godzilla vs. Ghidorah, it was more like two petulant geckos tussling. I point this out because had I been thinking more clearly, I never would have said what I said next.

"Besides, is it so wrong for me to have one lousy friend who understands me?"

As I look back on my career as a hero, I can think of several times when I threw a punch in the heat of the moment and felt instant regret. And there have been plenty of smartass remarks I wish I could take back. But to this day that look of stunned disbelief and betrayal on my best friend's face still haunts me.

"I—I didn't mean it like that—" I stammered.

"Yes, you did."

"Caleb—"

"No. You did." He didn't sound angry. I think angry would have been better. "I don't get it, all this superhero junk. And they do. Your little club doesn't have a place for me, anyway."

"C'mon, I need you!"

"No, you don't. Chris, we both knew this was coming. You'll be hitting the big time soon. You don't need me anymore."

"Dude, don't do this. This has been our dream!"

He shook his head ruefully. "No, it's been your dream. And I don't want to be part of it anymore."

I felt like I was falling and my throat grew tight with emotion. "Caleb, please—"

"I think you should leave now."

There was a grim finality to his tone that I'd never heard from him before. With all my might I wanted to think of the words to say to make everything better, to put it back like it was. But as I felt the swell of emotion rise up in my chest, all I could think was that I didn't want him to see me cry. And knowing I was seconds from doing so I summoned my last remaining reserves to keep it together and gave him a simple nod before I rushed down the stairs and out the door.

I was barely a block away when I stopped against a shady tree and broke down into tears.

I don't remember the last time I cried like that. I just felt so helpless and alone. I tried to bottle it up again but eventually I just caved in and let all it overtake me as all my pent-up frustration came roiling out all at once. As I wept it made me wonder if Caleb was right and I was just being a girl about the whole thing and this crying fit was just the latest example, and it made me cry even harder.

But eventually even superheroes tire themselves out, and I found myself physically and emotionally spent as I finally pulled myself together and wiped my face. Because I knew that despite everything I still had a job to do. And although I hated to admit it, Caleb was right—as much as I trusted Trixie, she was too close to the problem.

But that didn't mean that I was out of allies.

I changed into Prodigious Girl and ten minutes later I landed in a marble courtyard surrounded by towering columns near the heart of the city. I strode confidently towards the gleaming silver-white building and before I came within a hundred feet of it my approach was blocked by two hulking automated defense bots that bristled with weapons and towered over me menacingly. Between them, a holographic projection appeared of a smartly-dressed businesswoman.

"Please state your name and purpose," she said in a synthetic contralto.

"Tell Promethean that Prodigious Girl is here. I want to take him up on his offer to be his partner."

* * * * *

I'd dreamed countless times about seeing the inside of the Liberty Squadron's base. I had the model at home and I'd watched the "authorized behind the scenes tour" video so many times I practically wore out my keyboard poring over every tiny little detail you could see in the background. The Squadron was the premier superteam of Faraday City—heck, of the entire world—and now that I was actually inside I could hardly contain my excitement.

At least I couldn't contain it for the first twenty minutes.

But after an hour and a half sitting in the waiting room, even I had to admit my patience was wearing thin. There were about a dozen other people sitting around who came and went while I sat there waiting. A couple guys tried to strike up a conversation with me, but given how fascinated they seemed to be with my breasts I just used the opportunity to work on my "Leave me the hell alone" glare. I was getting pretty good.

When the muzak version of Katy Perry's "Firework" played for the third time I figured I was pretty close to getting blown off entirely and I was just about ready to pack it up and leave when the inner door opened again. The previous few times I'd looked but it was just an administrator or guard come to escort the person to their meeting, so I didn't even bother looking up from my phone.

Except this time there were audible gasps from the people in the waiting room.

I looked up to see Promethean standing there, looking every bit like the golden god I'd met before. He had a knowing little smile as he made eye contact with me and beckoned me to come inside.

I felt a flutter of excitement but was determined not to look like a total rabid fangirl in front of everybody so I just calmly stood up, swept my hair over my shoulder with a flourish, and briskly and confidently walked over to meet my idol. I had a little smirk as I made eye contact with some of the other people in the waiting room and tried to look cool and nonchalant about it like, "Oh, sure, I'm just here to see Promethean. He invited me to be his new partner, no biggie. So, who are you here to see?"

"Prodigious Girl," he said warmly as he shook my hand.

"Thank you for seeing me. I, uh, know you're busy what with the world always being in danger and all."

I hoped I wasn't being evaluated on my witty repartee. I managed to fight down my pained expression, but he just smiled. God, that smile.

"So I take this to mean that you're in the market for a new mentor?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, please," I said, trying not to sound desperate. "But there's actually something else I need to talk to you about. I think there's a threat, maybe to the whole city."

For the next few minutes I laid it all out for him. Killdozer and Killbane becoming Viridian and Blamestorm, Harridan's not-so-coincidental involvement, and Demetria's connection. He nodded thoughtfully as he listened and waited until I finished to speak.

"These are serious charges. Do you have proof?"

"I do. I think. Demetria helped Killdozer and Killbane to register as heroes. She had to know who they were. That's got to at least be worth looking into, right?" I held my breath as I waited to see Promethean's response, suddenly realizing how circumstantial it all must seem, especially when I carefully omitted the part about hacking into the Hero Registration system since I didn't think he'd approve.

He tapped the I-Comm unit on his wrist. "OverC/R, collect everything we've got on Demetria and her Sanctuary operation. I want to review it immediately."

"At once, Promethean," the synthetic female voice replied.

I gave him a befuddled little smile.

"Something amuses you?"

"I think I'm in love," I sighed. Then, I quickly amended, "I—I mean, I just can't believe you're doing that just on my say-so. You hardly know me."

"Prodigious Girl, if we're going to work together, we'll be trusting each other with our lives. Looking into it is the least I can do," he told me. "And you're mistaken, I do know you."

I shook my head slightly. "Well, we met the one time—"

"Give me some credit. I make a point of researching all of my prospective partners. I've been very impressed with your career thus far. You're smart, brave, committed, and strong. I daresay very mature for your age."

"Wow, thanks," I said.

He paused for a moment and looked at me like he was making up his mind about something. "In fact, why don't you come with me? There's something I want to show you."

He took to the air and as I flew after him through the maze of corridors in the Liberty Squadron's base, I was practically on the verge of nerdgasm as I peeked this way and that at all of the rooms and sights that I never dreamed I'd get to see. And certainly not with Promethean as my tour guide!

He glanced over at me as we flew. "I don't mean to be forward, but if we're going to team up, I imagine you'll need to change your name. You're not attached to 'Prodigious Girl,' are you?"

"Oh, hell no," I said with relief before I noticed his disapproving look. I'd forgotten he had a thing about swearing. "Um, I mean, no, no, I'm open to something new," I hastily amended.

"Good. My people already have a few possible names reserved. How do you feel about 'Princess Promethea?'"

I made a face but quickly tried to cover it. "Oh. Um, that's good..." I said unenthusiastically. It was bad enough that I was stuck as a girl without piling on the 'princess' junk.

He laughed once. "Yes, I hate it, too. It's just as well, it tested poorly with the focus groups. People are concerned enough about metahumans without us adopting titles of royalty," he said. "And it has the unfortunate side effect of making you sound like Promethea's partner. Do you know her?"

"N-not personally," I stammered. Promethea was his female counterpart, a female clone that Doctor Malevolence had originally created to use against Promethean before she broke free of his control and became one of the good guys. She wasn't quite as powerful as he was, but she had all of his powers—flight, strength, invulnerability, laser vision—the whole shooting match.

"I don't much care for her, myself. I can't abide clones," he confided. "And I wasn't particularly enamored with her taking my name, either, but my people tell me that given her powers and history it plays well with the marketing. All part of the 'Promethean Family,' as they call it."

"I, uh, never met her."

"Well, don't worry about it. I'd prefer to keep you close, anyway. The other name they suggested for you was 'Asteria,' who I understand was something like a cousin to Prometheus in Greek mythology. Goddess of shooting stars or some such."

"That sounds great," I said. "That all sounds great." Then something occurred to me at his mention of the 'Promethean Family.' "But what about Kid Promethean and PrometheLad? Aren't they your sidekicks, too? Will I be working with them?"

He made a small grumble. "Those two are competitive. They enjoy vying for the number two spot, so they prefer that I don't interfere and steal their thunder. Boys will be boys, you know."

I glanced away. "Yeah, I get that."

"Ah, here we are." He landed in front of what appeared to be a warp gate projector, but it had a lot more hardware around it. I watched as Promethean entered some codes into the control panel and the portal sprang to life with a sparkling curtain of energy.

"Ladies first," he said, gesturing to the portal.

I hesitated slightly but didn't want to look timid in front of my new mentor, so I took a breath and confidently walked into the swirling energy vortex.

When I emerged I felt enormously queasy. It took me a few moments just to get my bearings, by which time Promethean had already followed me through.

"Don't worry, everyone gets that reaction at first," he said as he switched the portal off.

I nodded as I tried to shake it off. "So where...are...holy shit," I gasped.

I'm sure Promethean made another disapproving frown at my language, but I didn't care. I flew off of the balcony we were standing on to look at the brilliant latticework of the structure we were now in, which was like an elaborate onyx stone with massive windows that looked out onto a lush tropical jungle. The greenery was a sharp contrast to the ebon-black walls and floors of the building we were now in, and as I looked in amazement at the alien technology here and there, I realized that there were no ramps or staircases going from floor to floor. This place was specifically built for someone who could fly.

"Oh, my God," I said, covering my mouth. "Is this— Are we—?"

He had a small smile on his face as he nodded.

"I didn't think this place existed!"

"I'd prefer that people think that," he said as he floated out to meet me. "I'm not here as often as I'd like, and it would be a tempting target for my enemies."

I was almost breathless. "I—I don't know what to say. Thank you!" I said as I looked at him in amazement.

"I'm glad you like it. Although this wasn't the only thing I wanted to show you."

"You mean there's more?"

He took me by the hand and guided me to one of the levels where there were a number of open alcoves. I noticed that the one down at the end seemed to have a light on with a female robot or something inside it.

"I hope this doesn't seem overly presumptuous," he said as he guided me down the hallway. "But after we spoke the first time I very much hoped you'd take me up on my offer. So I took the liberty of making this."

I was grinning like an idiot as I turned to see the figure in the alcove. Now that I was up close I realized that it was actually a 3-D holographic image of a woman that was being projected from a machine that was reminiscent of the CosFab system that I'd used to fashion my own costume, only far more sophisticated. At first I didn't understand what I was supposed to be looking at until the hologram rotated and I realized that the image of the woman was also wearing a costume.

If you could call it that.

The costume was insanely provocative and revealing with two slender fabric straps that were attached to a choker and came down her body, scarcely covering her nipples before plunging down to her waist where they attached to a very scant bikini bottom. Apart from some gloves and boots and a short little cape the rest of the "costume" was mostly bare and showed so much skin that I could only assume that it would stay in place with the power of wishful thinking.

Then I realized that the hologram's face and hair was unsettlingly familiar and her physique unusually buxom. One might even say prodigiously so.

My face froze as I stared in disbelief at the minuscule scraps of cloth that comprised the costume. Hesitantly I made my way further into the alcove around the back to peek past the digital model's short cape and noticed how the thong back of her panties was wedged between her bare buttocks. As I gaped at the slowly-rotating image, I then noticed that the little strips of cloth all converged at her crotch where the designer had thoughtfully highlighted the area with a bright gold fabric star, leaving no doubt which part of her anatomy that "shooting star" was streaking towards.

My mouth suddenly felt very dry. "Wow," I said. "It, uh, sure is...economical...in its use of fabric."

"I'm glad you like it," Promethean responded. "I designed it myself. I had to stick to the standard color palette, of course."

"Uh huh," I said as I noted the signature white, red, and gold colors that Promethean favored. "You know, I'm totally fine with the colors. Just kinda wishing they were more, uh, easily noticed? Like from a distance? Maybe a large distance?"

"Why don't you try it on?"

My breathing became fast and shallow as I became acutely aware how I'd backed myself into the alcove with the hologram and that Promethean now stood between me and freedom. I pressed myself against the side of the alcove and edged towards him as I hugged the wall, hoping that I could sneak past him and get into the main room where I could get some space to maneuver.

I smiled nervously, suddenly very uncomfortable with the way he was looking at me.

"So, earlier when you said that you admired my 'maturity,' you meant..."

"Don't be coy, 'Prodigious Girl,'" he said, using my name like a taunt. "Most girls would give anything to be in your position."

"Believe me, I am not like most girls," I said.

Before he could respond I launched myself at him at top speed with my arm outstretched to shove him back so I could get by. But as my hand made contact with his chest he moved with blinding speed and before I knew it he'd grabbed both my wrists in his hands and locked them in an unbreakable grip. I barely had time to register what he'd done before he pressed himself against me and kissed me roughly.

I managed to pull my head back. "Please! This—this isn't—"

My plea was cut short as he kissed me again and he pinned both my wrists with one hand while his other hand slid down my body and groped my chest.

My mind raced out of control as I tried to fathom what my idol was doing to me—what he intended to do to me!—and I panicked as I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and struggled uselessly in his grasp as his hands began to explore my body. I frantically gasped for air as I realized with horror that there was absolutely nothing I could to do to stop him.

I was helpless.

...And that's when it happened.

I wasn't even aware of it at first, but what started like a buzzing in my brain turned into a blazing-hot fire that felt like it was going to sear through my eyelids. I opened my eyes and suddenly realized that the fire was coming out of me, twin lances of blazing white-hot energy that escaped through my eyes and burned through everything they touched.

Including Promethean.

"AAAAAHHH!!" he cried out in agony as he clutched at his shoulder were the beams had pierced straight through his body and out the other side. He dropped me and I reflexively closed my eyes, and when I looked up again and looked around, the blasts—still coming out of my eyes—cut a swath of destruction through the complex, and then right across the enormous plate-glass windows where they blasted a hole to the jungle outside. Freedom!

I closed my eyes and flew full-speed at the hole and smashed through the debris to get outside. By now the burning sensation had subsided, so I chanced to open my eyes and discovered that the blasts had stopped, at least for the moment.

Terrified and disoriented, all I could think to do was to put as much distance between myself and that bastard as possible. I tore away from the island as fast as I could, but I quickly paused to take stock of my situation when I realized that it was the only land in sight.

Where the hell was I?

I couldn't get a signal on my I-Comm unit, but fortunately the device had a built-in GPS. I tapped at the controls as it locked in my location and the map showed nothing but a field of endless blue.

I zoomed out. Blue.

I zoomed out again. Still blue.

Finally, the map showed my location, six hundred miles southeast of Bermuda in the middle of the motherfucking Atlantic Ocean, almost 1400 miles from home.

I pulled at my hair and screamed in frustration before I looked back reluctantly at Promethean's island getaway. He hadn't yet given chase but I didn't think I'd wounded him that badly, so I figured that right now he was probably watching me with that super-vision of his and wondering what I was going to do. After what I'd done to him I doubted he'd be bold enough to try something again, but the thought of flying back to him with my cape between my legs and bumming a ride home after what he did... No. No way.

My top flying speed was just over three hundred miles per hour, so I figured if I pushed it I could be home in about five hours or so. I'd never attempted anything like that before and if I'd been thinking more clearly I never would have even considered it...it was insanity. Then I took one last look at the island behind me.

"Fuck it," I said, heading for home.

The flight home was one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. I was strong and had a terrific stamina, but this pushed me to the limits of my endurance and beyond. My experience as Prodigious Girl had trained me to use my flight for short quick bursts in combat or to race top-speed across the city to disarm a bomb, but this was like a sprinter who showed up one day to run a marathon without bothering to train for it and saying, "Hey, I'm in good shape, how hard could it possibly be?"

Promethean didn't try to stop me and after I realized the magnitude of the journey I'd undertaken I darkly wondered if maybe he secretly hoped that I would conk out somewhere halfway where my body would quietly sink to the bottom of the ocean and nobody would be any the wiser as to what had happened to me. There were probably even a few villains who would be happy to take credit for my disappearance, too. But I resolved that there was no way I was going to give him the satisfaction.

It was hours before I was even within range of a cell tower, so my long flight gave me a lot of time to think and I found myself replaying what had happened in my mind again and again. My first realization was that absolutely nobody was going to believe me. Hell, I still couldn't believe it, myself. I mean, he was one of the world's greatest heroes, and I was just some little-known sidekick whose greatest claim to fame was her willingness to show off her boobs. I soon began to wonder if my lack of experience as a girl might have led me to encourage him somehow. Maybe I had said or done something to lead him on? My little light banter and teasing might have been construed as flirting. And I guessed it was possible he assumed I was eighteen—

"No," I said to myself as I gripped my hands into tight fists. I was a superhero, dammit. I wasn't going to do this to myself. What happened, happened, and it wasn't my fault. "It's not my fault. It's not my fault." It became like a mantra in my head.

I flew along and saw shapes in the clouds and they all reminded me of his face hovering inches in front of mine as I grappled with the memory of him pressed against me and wrestling me into submission as I felt his hands on my body. I squeezed my eyes shut and felt tears run down my cheeks at the memory. Why the hell hadn't I done anything? Said anything? I hardly fought back! I hadn't even told him no! Now that I had time to think I realized the ten thousand and six things I could have done—should have done—if only I hadn't frozen up.

"Not. My. Fault." I repeated.

I was so angry at myself that when I encountered a storm along my flight path I welcomed it as the thunder and rain drowned out my anguished sobs and tears.

It was nearly eight hours before I saw the mainland and not long after that before I saw the gleaming skyline of Faraday City. I made it to a secluded park not far from home feeling both physically and emotionally spent and I practically kissed the ground when I finally collapsed onto the cool grass. As I lay there flat on my back I caught my breath and stared up at the sky and soon realized that I was in the same park where I'd gotten my superpowers all those months earlier. I couldn't help but wonder if I'd known then what I'd have to go through if I wouldn't have run away even faster.

In the distance I could hear the sounds of the city and the occasional police siren and I gave a tired laugh as I fought a reflexive urge to go help, despite the fact that I was in absolutely no shape to help anybody. Heck, I was lucky to be alive.

And I still had a reckoning of my own yet to face.

I changed back into Chris and as I looked at my cell phone I cringed at the time. For a moment I considered calling home, but I was only a few minutes away and I knew that a phone call at this point wasn't going to score me any points...it was way too late for that. No, it was time to go home and face the music.

* * * * *

I discreetly landed about a block away from home and made the rest of the way on foot. After my epic flight it actually felt like a relief to just walk along the quiet streets of my neighborhood like I used to do before I got my powers.

When I saw our house with the lights on, I felt mixed emotions. I knew I was about to walk into a buzzsaw, but there was also nowhere else on earth that I wanted to go at that moment. So I took a deep breath and entered the front door, and sure enough, Mom and Dad were both there waiting for me and spoiling for a fight.

"Christopher! Where have you been?" my mom demanded.

"I'm very disapp—" My father stopped short when he saw the look on my face. "Son?" he asked.

My mother saw it, too. "Honey, what's wrong?"

I shook my head helplessly as I struggled against the lump in my throat. "It's nothing. It's stupid."

My parents glanced at each other, obviously weighing their role as disciplinarians against their concern for me. "Why don't you go upstairs and get changed," my father said. It took me a minute to realize he was talking about changing into a dress.

Oh, God, not again with this idiocy, I thought. My shoulders slumped as I gave them a pleading look. "Mom, Dad...could we please not do that tonight? Please?"

They looked at each other again and my dad raised his eyebrows questioningly to my mom. In response, she just sighed a little and put her arm around me and guided me towards the stairs. "Go on up and get started, Chris. I'll be up in a minute."

I gave a pathetic little grumble of complaint and trudged upstairs with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner being led to the gallows. When things were going well I was content to put up with this stupid humiliation, figuring that this was the price I had to pay for my heroic destiny. But now it just felt like one more reminder of what a loser I was and how I'd managed to muck up my life so completely on every conceivable level. As I entered my room and saw my vanity, makeup, and wig on conspicuous display they felt symbolic of all my many mistakes, on prominent display for all the world to see and ridicule.

Then my eyes fell on the big poster of Promethean that hung over my bed.

I almost jumped back in fear at first, and as he stood there right above my bedposts it made my skin crawl as it looked like he was inviting me into bed. I glared at his smug, smirking face and ran up to it and ripped it off the wall, crumpled it up, and stuffed it in the trash.

There was a gentle knock at the door as my Mom entered.

"Mom—"

"Shh," she said, touching my hair gently. "You know the rules. Get washed up, I'll be right back."

By the time I'd cleaned up and splashed some water on my face, my mom had returned with a pair of her jeans and flat sandals. "I know we said dresses and skirts, but just this once, I think we can make an exception," she said.

She turned around and I changed into the clothes, with my painted toenails on display in her sandals.

"And the rest."

"Mom—" I repeated, but the look on her face told me she wasn't going to budge. Grudgingly I retrieved one of my brassieres and tried to ignore her knowing little look as I deftly worked the clasp as I put it on. But her smile faded into a disapproving little moue as I hefted the two large breast forms into the cups and adjusted the bra. I desperately wanted to try and explain again how all this wasn't what it seemed, but I wasn't in the mood to get into a debate with my mother about how big my breasts should be, so I let it drop.

She went to my dresser and pulled out a hot pink top. "Here, you can wear this," she said as she handed it to me. It was my Prodigious Girl T-shirt.

I blanched. "Why don't I just wear the blouse with the flowers—"

"Chris, it's okay. I know you like her. It's okay if you do."

I started to object, but she gave me a nod of encouragement and I thought better of it. Though I could have done without having to stand in front of her as I struggled to pull it down over my jutting falsies.

"I think you might need a size bigger," she observed with a little smirk. "Okay, sit down."

I sat down at the vanity and started to reach for my makeup when she stopped me. Instead, she pulled the chair over from my desk and sat down in front of me and reached for the foundation.

"Mom, I really don't—"

"Oh, shush. It's not like I'm going to have a daughter to do this with," she said as she started working on my face. "And you're obviously not in the mood. Besides, there's something I want to talk to you about and I want you to listen."

I really wasn't in the mood for a lecture, either. "Mom, I'm okay, really. It's just some stupid pointless stuff with my friends. I screwed up and everyone's upset. But I've got it handled, honest." That last part was a lie, of course. I hated lying to her but there was nothing she could do for me, anyway. "I'm sorry I broke curfew, it won't happen again."

She scoffed as she continued applying the makeup to my face. "Your father and I raised the worst liar in the world. I'm not sure how to feel about that."

"Mom, I didn't—"

"Shush, keep your eyes closed," she said. "Chris, I know this all must seem horribly random and unfair and cruel of us to do this to you. And yes, this is punishment, which is why you're not getting a night off, no matter what happened with your friends tonight. But before we decided on this punishment, your father and I talked for quite some time about it. Do you know why we chose to make you do this?"

"You said it was punishment for lying and stealing and sneaking around," I said.

"That's right, we want you to be honest and to know the price of dishonesty. Do you think this is a fair punishment?"

I hesitated, not quite sure how to answer.

"Christopher, in light of what I said just this very second about honesty, I—"

"Okay, okay," I said. "Well, no. This was totally disproportionate," I complained. "I mean, apologizing to Lori and paying her back for the clothes, sure. But now you've outed me to my friends and everyone in school knows, and everybody thinks that I can't wait to run home every day and dress like this. I'll never live it down."

"All this superhero nonsense has gotten into your head," she said absently. My eyes were still closed so I couldn't read her expression so I just held my breath, not sure if her sudden apparent change of subject meant what I thought it meant. "You've idolized them since you were little, ever since..." Her voice trailed off and I knew she was probably looking around my bedroom at the posters and memorabilia. "But they're dangerous, and not only in the ways that are obvious," she said cryptically.

I opened my eyes. "Ever since when?"

She sat back a little and regarded me quietly. "You don't remember, do you? I guess it's not surprising, you were very young. Close your eyes." I did so and she started working on my eyes again. "It was Christmastime and we were all at the mall to take you to see Santa and do some shopping when you wandered off. Your father and I were absolutely frantic looking for you. And right then was when a fight broke out between the supers. It was chaos. People were running and screaming, there was shooting and explosions. One of the heroes tried to force us back to safety but your father shoved past him and nearly got himself killed when a huge explosion went off that shook the whole mall and knocked me off my feet. I was sure I'd lost you, maybe even both of you."

"What happened?" I whispered.

"Your father managed to make it out—that's how he got that scar on his leg—but he was ready to start digging for you right then. But out of nowhere one of the heroines flew down with you in her arms, like an angel delivering you to us. You were clinging to her—you were never clingy, even as a baby—but you weren't at all scared. You just kept looking at her and touching her face. When she handed you over to me you had this big smile like you didn't have a care in the world."

"Who was she?"

"I don't know. Pretty young thing. I never knew her name."

I sat quietly and thought about that, how I owed my life to the actions of some nameless and faceless savior, an anonymous hero of the city. I wondered how much she might have unknowingly shaped my life after that fateful day, inspiring me in ways that I never fully appreciated. Then I flashed back to my little cousin Lydia turning her Barbie into a superhero after our little adventure together and wondered what effect I might have had on her.

Mom was quiet for a moment and then the tone of her voice changed, less wistful and more pointed. "Tell me. This Prodigious Girl," she said, obviously reading the name stretched across my bosom, "why do you like her so much?"

"Well," I started uncertainly, "she's cute..."

Mom jerked her hands away and snapped, "Christopher Yancy Patterson, so help me, if you tell me the only reason you like her is for her figure, I swear you'll be going to school for the rest of the year in my old wedding dress!"

"It's not!" I said in a panic as I stared into her angry face. "I like that—that she's a teenager like me. It's kind of cool to think a teen could make a difference. And she's smart, and funny—well, pretty funny—and she cares about helping people, and she's a good teammate, I guess. And she's not ashamed of who she is, either. She's serious about helping people, but she's not all humorless about it."

"Hmm," Mom said as she picked up the mascara wand, "if she's so unashamed, why do you think she wears that mask?"

"I dunno," I said, looking up and down as she applied the mascara. "Maybe she's protecting someone close to her. Or maybe she thinks they wouldn't understand why she's doing it."

"I could believe that," she admitted as she chose a lipstick from the vanity and applied it to my lips. She gave me a satisfied once over and then got up to retrieve my wig from the wig stand and brushed it out with her fingers. "Chris," she said as she put the wig on my head and fussed at it, "I don't know if you really enjoy dressing up like this or not. Maybe this was just something you liked to do in private, or maybe it's something else. And I don't care."

"Mom—"

"No, listen. I mean that, Chris...your father and I really, truly don't care. And I hope by now that you know that we love you. But you're a teenager and the train is fast leaving the station for us to help steer you on the right course."

I gave her a funny look. "You don't really steer a train."

"Work with me, kiddo."

I made a little face as I thought about what she was saying and absently brushed at the blonde hairs of my wig that fell in my face. "So me dressing up like a Barbie doll is some kind of life lesson?"

She put her hands in her lap and got a faraway look on her face. "Chris...you're very bright. But some lessons only come with maturity, and maybe you're not old enough yet to understand what I'm about to tell you." She looked me in the eyes. "I know you're embarrassed by this, and it's killing me to hurt you, please believe me. But this kind of shame is a crucible, and I know in my heart you're going to pass through it. But the other kind of shame—the one that tells you it's somehow okay to hate who you are, to have to live with a secret and have to hide it away—it's insidious. It eats at you from the inside. And I—we—couldn't bear to see you live with that."

She took a tremulous breath and as I looked at her I could tell there was something deep and personal that she wasn't telling me. I wondered what had happened to her.

"Mom—"

"No, let me finish. I know you think this punishment is awful and you probably think we're monsters for doing it to you. But please believe me when I say that if it feels hard to show the world who you really are, then hiding it—denying it—is much, much worse. Does that make any kind of sense?"

I thought about my time as Prodigious Girl and how it made me feel to be a hero. The sense of purpose, of belonging, of being on the right path, even when it was difficult. Then I tried to imagine my life without that, forced to live with a constant yearning for a life which other people kept telling me I wasn't good enough.

Like Promethean.

Or Prodigy.

Screw them. I was a hero, dammit. With or without them.

"Yeah, I think I know what that feels like," I whispered. Then, seeing her vulnerable expression, I took her by the hands and leaned close. "And I don't think you're monsters," I told her, as she smiled and blinked back tears. "Though I think I might have learned my lesson without having to wear a miniskirt to the pep rally..."

She smiled. "We improvise a lot. Parenthood is like that," she said. "Look, Chris, I know you think this is a lousy deal. Punishments are like that. But let's be honest. You and I both know that I couldn't have forced you to dress like this if you didn't really want to."

"Mom, I don't really—"

She waved her hand. "I don't mean it like that," she said. Then she cocked her head and gave me a discerning look. "So, why'd you let me dress you up like this just now? For that matter, why have you been dressing up every day after school?"

"You said I had to."

"So what? If you said 'no,' what could we have done to force you?"

I thought about that. "Not much, I guess."

"Chris, at your age, a punishment is really just a promise that you make to us. You could take off these clothes, break curfew, or blow off your chores every day if you wanted to. But you're demonstrating a willingness to own your mistakes, respect our judgment, and stand by your word, even when it's really difficult and embarrassing to do that. Honesty is important, but so is integrity."

"So this is a test?"

"Yes, and you're passing wonderfully. But it's also a test for your dad and me. Because I meant what I said before...we don't care if this is something you want. If you really do love doing this and want to stay this way, it doesn't matter to us one way or the other. You can come to us with anything. We'll still love you just the same."

My lip twitched a little and I sniffled. "Thanks, Mom," I said, feeling a lump in my throat again.

She leaned in for a hug. "Okay, don't cry or you'll ruin your makeup."

I gave her a wan smile and turned towards the mirror, curious to see what she'd done. "Yeah, what did—great moons of Krypton," I gasped as I saw myself. I turned back and forth to admire my reflection in the mirror. "How did you do that with my eyes? That looks great!"

"I can show you sometime if you like," she said. "I never thought I'd be passing makeup tips on to my son, but whatcha gonna do?"

I blushed in response, embarrassed at being so girlishly effusive about my makeup.

She obviously noticed my discomfiture and snuggled up next to me so that we were side-by-side in the mirror. "You know something? Your friends are idiots," she proclaimed. "You're awesome, and I've never seen you break something that you didn't fix. Whatever this Ultimate mess is that you're in, I'm sure you'll make it right. Like you said, it's just Frisbee. It's not like lives are on the line."

'Ultimate mess.' She had no idea how close she was to the truth. But my smile broadened a little. "Thanks, Mom."

"Also, you're really cute. And I'm not just saying that as your mother."

I looked at my attractive feminine reflection in the mirror and furrowed my brow.

She read my face and added, "Oh, I mean as a boy and as a girl. Seriously, you go either way, you're good."

"Mom!"

"I'm just saying you have options!" she teased. "Girls and/or guys are going to be falling for you."

"Mo-ther!"

She laughed and stood up, then kissed me on the head. "I swear you are such a girl when you're like this."

"Hey, I'm still a minor, you know! You're gonna have to pay for my therapy!"

"I don't think the concept of 'you break it, you bought it' applies to my teenage son's fragile gender identity," she said with a smirk as she headed for the door.

"Out!" I cried, throwing a pillow at her.

She ducked behind the door to dodge the pillow and then said, "I left some dinner in the fridge. Come on down when you're hungry and I can heat it up." She then gestured at the little jewelry box on my dresser. "And your little red earrings would look cute with that top," she suggested before retreating downstairs.

I turned back to face my girlish reflection and looked deep into the eyes of the girl in the mirror. "Okay, Prodigious Girl," I said, "if you're so awesome, what are you going to do to fix all this?"