“A detention girlfriend,” Florence said, smirking as Pip shot him a dirty look. If they weren’t obviously such close friends, she’d think they hated each other. “One who doesn’t even like supers.”

  “Why would you date someone who doesn’t like supers?” Vivainne asked, leaning forward over her knees. The question came unbidden; she didn’t care about Pip’s dating life, though she disliked her less than she had before.

  Since leaving the bodega, the cold in her body had thawed out, helped on its way by cooling hot chocolate and melting ice cream. Watching Pip brush a lock of purple tinted hair away from her face, her skin prickled, the warmth beneath the blanket fort getting to her.

  “She doesn’t hate supers,” Pip said, continuing her dirty look directed at Florence, since he didn’t seem to trust her. “She is a super, after all. It’s just that her family dislikes supers.”

  “Hard to imagine there’s anyone still like that out there,” Florence remarked.

  Vivainne gave him a baffled look. Did he really not understand the world they lived in? Of course people hated supers. Supers were powerful, more powerful than the very laws of physics, and they’d sprouted out of the woodwork and practically taken over. It didn’t matter if you were a genius with technology, because a tech genius or super genius could do it better. Amazing craftsman? There was a super who could summon and mold glass sitting right in front of her. “You can’t be serious,” she said. “Everyone hates you.”

  “No they don’t,” Pip said. “They love us.” She flexed her arms, muscles bulging beneath her long sleeve shirt, as if that made her point.

  “And don’t forget, you’re one of us,” Florence said. “So they hate you too.”

  “I know,” Vivainne said, rolling her eyes. She couldn’t forget that easily. Part of why she’d left highschool when people found out about her power, by accident. It wasn’t her fault either; some boy was trying to ask her to homecoming and she’d panicked and phased through the wall. “And you really need to be more careful about what you talk about in public.”

  “What?”

  “This entire trip, you’ve talked very loudly about your powers and families and goals while just out on the street. Can’t you see how that’s a bad idea? Any super hater could overhear, and make it a problem for you.”

  Pip and Florence exchanged a look, and Vivainne sighed. “You can’t just fight everyone you have an issue with. And I thought you said you didn’t fight normies.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Florence started, breaking up the words with a wide yawn. He stretched out, long arms hitting the tent overhead and nearly knocking the blankets free before he laid down. He sprawled out, forcing Pip to shift closer to Vivainne to stay out of the way of his legs. “Man, I’m tired.”

  “It’s all that food you ate,” Pip said, poking at him. “You’re going into a food coma.”

  “Wake me when breakfast is ready.”

  “What?”

  She stared at him in disgust as he shut his eyes, hands tucked up beneath his head.

  “Are you really going to sleep?” Pip demanded.

  He didn’t stir.

  “I wish I could fall asleep that fast,” Vivainne muttered, letting out a small laugh as he began to snore. She sighed, placing the container of ice cream on the ground beside the boy. She really didn’t need to be eating anymore anyway.

  “It’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” Pip picked up the container Vivainne had been eating from, taking a bite of rocky road. With her teeth. Vivainne winced just watching. “I am sorry for being an ass, earlier.”

  “You’ve said.”

  “I’m waiting for you to say you forgive me. Or fuck off. But I’m going to keep trying until I get some sort of response.”

  The corners of her lips switched, brain fighting against muscle to stop the smile from coming to her face. Her brain didn’t win. The smile broke free, peaking out at Pip. “You know you’re really annoying, right.”

  “Yeah, I’m aware,” she said, grinning. “Does that mean you’ll accept my apology?”

  “I guess,” Vivainne sighed. She fell into silence, drumming her fingers against her knee. “I should go to bed.”

  “Or we could just stay here for a bit?” Pip twisted around, laying down beside Florence before patting the floor beside her. “Look, the blanket sky!”

  She stared at the girl. Did she really expect her to lay down on the floor and stare up at the blanket ceiling?

  Pip stared right back, meeting her gaze evenly, propped up on one elbow.

  “Fine,” Vivainne said, turning to break her gaze away from Pip’s. Carters. “I don’t see the point in this.”

  Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

  “Not really a point,” Pip said, laying back fully. “Just… solidarity?”

  She shifted against the carpet, so thin she could feel the hard floor against every sharp bone. How was Florence sleeping like this?

  “Do you…” Pip trailed off before turning her head, looking at Vivainne again. “Do you like your mom?”

  A bitter, angry laugh bubbled out before she could stop it. “No,” she said. “I don’t.”

  “Oh.”

  “She’s a terrible person,” Vivainne started, anger lacing her voice. “She hurt people. She hurt me. No, I don’t like her.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s…” Vivainne sucked in a deep breath. She couldn’t explode on Pip for asking about her mom, considering it was the reason she was doing all this. “It’s fine.”

  “For what it’s worth,” Pip said, her words directed up at the blanket ceiling. “I think standing up to your mom is heroic. Not everyone could do that.”

  “Thanks.”

  Silence fell around them like an early dusk, wrapping them carefully in its embrace. Pip’s breathing slowed, the low rasp of snores joining Florence’s contented sleep. Vivainne sighed, eyes shut but mind wide awake. They’d succeeded in at least somewhat distracting her since they’d left the bodega, Pip and Florence practically dragging her away from the TV, but now it all came back.

  Her mother’s trial had started, and of course, they’d used a picture from the award gala with the both of them when speaking about it. Which meant anyone who watched the news, particularly super news, would likely recognize her. Moving and going into the hero program was supposed to be a clean slate for her, but now Pip and Florence knew, and she had no idea how many more people she would end up training with that would figure it out.

  And she couldn’t do anything about it.

  For the first time all evening, Vivainne pulled her phone out, a few notifications waiting for her.

  Darcy: how does this skirt look?

  She’d attached a picture of a website listing for a skirt that Vivainne could have sworn Darcy already owned, nothing special about it. Vivainne gave her a thumbs up, not in the mood to discuss fashion with the hero.

  Jordan had sent pictures of his own, but at least there was some substance to them. He’d captured Vanya playing with a boy from the daycare, a wide smile on her unusually pale face, a ball of living shadow between her hands. She didn’t use her power often, something Vivainne hadn’t questioned the girl about, partially because she didn’t think Vanya was old enough to understand. She hoped Vora hadn’t scared her out of using her power, and seeing her now, Vivainne couldn’t help but smile.

  Vivainne: she looks really happy

  Jordan responded almost immediately.

  Jordan: she is. dead asleep rn though, today tired her out

  Warmth filled Vivainne’s stomach as she stared at the picture for a moment longer. Vanya would never have to live with the fear Vivainne had. She would have a good relationship with her power. And growing up in a house full of heroes would be perfect for her. She’d be okay whenever Vivainne went to New York. Plus, Jordan would hopefully be able to bring her to visit.

  Lastly, Vivainne opened up Charles’ texts. He’d let her know the trial had started, a little too late, saying nothing about the news. The update he gave on the trial said as much as he’d warned; it was slow going, and Vora’s lawyers were fighting every step. Either he didn’t want to tell her about the news, or didn’t know what they were saying, but he’d made no mention of it.

  If he’d known, he should have told her.

  Staring at the screen for another moment, Vivainne decided he must not have known. She would choose to believe that, until he said otherwise. She didn’t want to mistrust him.

  Vivainne began typing, propping herself up on one elbow to avoid dropping her phone on her face.

  Vivainne: I filled out my application for the hero program in New York.

  She sent off the text, waiting for his response for a moment before shutting her phone and lying flat on her back. He was probably busy, and that was why he wasn’t responding.

  Her stomach squirmed, too much ice cream sitting heavily, especially when she thought about the application. She’d filled it out in a rush after receiving it, skipping dinner in favor of writing out the essay the application required. Reflecting on it now, she couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking.

  No one wanted to hear about her little sister, and what Vivainne wanted for her. She should have talked about her experience with her mom, or her favorite hero, or something interesting. Not that.

  But she’d given the application to Artemis already, and couldn’t change it.

  It shouldn’t affect anything, Vivainne thought, more hoping than anything else. She couldn’t remember ever praying. She wasn’t religious, hadn’t been raised that way, and what even was there to pray to when living gods walked the streets. Despite all that, she found herself repeating a mixture of hopes and wishes under her breath until a squeak from the door disturbed her.

  Vivainne sat upright, peeking out from beneath the blanket fort as Thalia walked into the house alone.

  The hero walked into the kitchen, leather combat boots leaving muddy footprints across the wooden floor. She stopped at the counter, her back to the living room, before turning around. Vivainne froze, waiting as the hero’s eyes landed on her, leaned over to make eye contact.

  Without a word, Vivainne shifted to her knees and crawled out of the tent.

  “I’m going to guess this is Pip’s doing,” Thalia said, amusement as thick as the wine on her breath filling the words.

  “Yes,” Vivainne said. “Though, my fault, I guess.”

  Thalia tilted her head, taking in the statement. “Why’s that?”

  “They learned about my mom,” Vivainne said. “Trial started. News is all over it.”

  “Ah.” Thalia turned away from Vivainne, placing a box of takeout in the fridge. “I see.”

  “I’d like to go back home.” She watched, waiting for the hero’s response. When she didn’t say anything, Vivainne continued. “I already decided to apply here. I don’t need to see the other schools, do I?”

  “No,” Thalia said. “Not technically, although I think you’d find it interesting. You don’t need to go back home right now.”

  “No, I do.” She let out a sigh, unballing her fists at her side. “I want to be close. I can’t just sit back and let it all happen without at least being nearby, without knowing what’s happening.”

  Thalia stared at her for another moment, gaze unwavering, dissecting something inside her. “Okay,” she said finally. “We’ll get you back home in the morning.”