Question Fate Sucks (Complete)

Ms. Rozic is from the story Never .

Moose Lake, Alberta, Canada (20km north of Edmonton)
November 20th, 2007

The first sign of the trouble that would make my already interesting life more so, was when my period didn't come.

If I hadn't been in an all girls school, with zero access to boys or members of the opposite sex, except over the hill professors who were more interested in their books then the hundreds of girls under the care (THANK GOD!!!!), or were very, very gay, I might have panicked. Instead I waited three weeks, until I started getting strange cramps, that while in the general vicinity of the stomach, were much more spread out, low key and stranger then regular PMS. This was more like I had worms and things crawling around my belly, which is a pretty damn uncomfortable feeling. After a half hour of that I visited the school doctor.

“What brings you here today, Estelle?”

It always amazed me that Dr. Parker could remember me, there were over eight hundred students who lived at Joan Everest School for Girls, from all around Canada, the US and Asia. We weren't the best in Canada, but we were always ranked in the top five schools. In my two years there, I only went to the doctor when I had to get a flu shot or some other vaccine, and occasionally to drop something off for a friend or teacher, so I wasn't exactly a common face. Maybe it had to do with the fact that I almost always covered myself in something, so that only my face and hands were exposed.

Climbing up onto the examination table slowly and awkwardly which really isn't my usual way of doing anything, I tried not to throw up. “I'm not feeling good. I missed my period three weeks ago, and now my stomach is feeling really strange.”

With a look of concern, which didn't look good on her pretty face, Dr. Parker became completely professional. She had me lie down and pull up my blouse, feeling my stomach and asking questions looking for anything out of the ordinary.

I tried not to shiver when her bare hands touched my skin. It wasn't that I was attracted to her or anything that made me shiver, it was the simple skin to skin contact. Because of certain family issues (NOT that, my parents are virtual saints and would destroy anyone who tried, as I've told the school counselor repeatedly and vehemently), I'm not used to people touching my skin except for my hands. With two years of being close friends with girls who like doing makeup and facials on each other, I've gotten used to people touching my face, but except for those body parts, I want clothes between me and others.

After fifteen minutes of this, and swearing on a stack of bibles that I hadn't done anything with a boy, she was stumped and my cramps were starting to die down. Dr. Parker wasn't satisfied with my claims that I was feeling fine now, and got on the phone. Within half an hour I was in a school car being driven to the best hospital in Edmonton and my parents had been contacted. Usually we'd have had to set up an appointment at least a week in advance, but when parents are paying 60K a year for their daughters to go to school, and said school teaches the daughters, granddaughters, nieces and god daughters of federal and provincial ministers, business leaders, and the Premier of Alberta who helps decide how much money said hospital will receive, little things like waiting lists are thrown out the window.

Dad was waiting for me at the hospital entrance, I hadn't really been expecting him. We live in Edmonton, and my parents schedule is very fluid, so there had been a chance that both he and Mom would have been there. But the driver had had the radio on and the news had been blaring about an attack by Buffalo downtown. Apparently the superhuman thug was attacking some rival gang members and it had gotten out of hand.

Prairie Sun, Edmonton's strongest super heroine , a speedster capable of a cruising speed of 160km/h, as well as being a level 5 exemplar, was slowly but steadily beating the nearly invulnerable behemoth into a pulp. The reporter was surprised that her partner, and the second of Edmonton's two full time heroes, Fly By wasn't there. He couldn't do as much damage as the speedster, but his flight and telekinetic blasts would have helped keep the idiot brick off balance.

I guess they'd fought Buffalo often enough that they must have figured their daughter was more important. I wasn't sure how to feel about that, it was nice to have the support, but I didn't want to see Mom getting injured because I had eaten some bad eggs or something. Sure she'd heal quickly enough, I've seen her heal from a crushed pelvis in less than a month, but it sure as heck wasn't pleasant to see her like that.

“How are you feeling darling?” he asked, touching my shoulder with his thin gloved hand. It was bitterly cold outside, but the hospital was kept very warm so there wasn't any normal need for gloves, emphasis on normal. There is very little normal about my family.

His hand felt solid and warm over top my sweater and parka. When I put my hand on his, there was only his leather glove separating us, and it was like touching wood, almost no warmth, no give, no support. I moved my hand away after a second. “I'm a little sick. But I don't think it's anything important.”

The driver double checked my fathers ID, and left us alone while he went to Tim Hortons to grab a coffee while he waited for us. Dad got me checked in, and we were moved into an examination room, where a nurse did all the usual things. Once we were alone with a promise the doctor would see us in no more than half an hour, we could talk freely.

“How's Mom doing?” I asked.

“She's enjoying herself, that's why I'm here.” He saw my skeptical look. “You know her, she always likes a challenge, she'll be fine. We're more concerned about you. Do you have a fever? Anything unexpected happen?”

I was turning fourteen at the end of December, so I was right at the age when most mutants manifested. For the last few months every time we talked there was an odd mix of anticipation and fear. They loved helping people, and the deals they'd made with companies acting as spokespeople and security was lucrative. But like everything it came at a cost. I honestly didn't know if they were hoping I would join them as a mutant and superhero, or if I'd stay relatively safe as a baseline. I'd bet they didn't know either.

“I just had some really weird cramps. They're overreacting as usual.” There was not enough money on earth to make me tell Dad I'd miss my period. And I'd have to be threatened with death before I'd admit it to Mom. There are somethings parents shouldn't be told, especially overprotective ones who can destroy cars by sneezing, don't ask, long story.

He lifted my chin, looking me in the eyes. His own eyes were a dull red behind the contacts, Mom's were a violet colour and didn't even really look like eyes, just blots of fuzzy colour, their constant mark of being mutants. If my eyes were changing colour, we'd know that I was following in their footsteps. I'd already checked my eyes that morning, and hadn't noticed any change from my pretty greyish-blue iris'. As soon as he was done giving me the once over, I pushed his hand away.

I love my Dad, but I hate touching him. His fingers had felt like cold granite. No one else except Mom had that problem, they felt his skin normally, could feel how soft and warm it was, how it was full of life. Something I'd never get to experience.

“Dad, nothing has happened, and I check every time I look in the mirror. Don't worry so much ok. How is Mom doing, are you sure she doesn't need your help?”

He tapped his ear where a devise rested, he and Mom both had it, letting them pass on thoughts, feelings, and even images to each other. The set had cost over three million dollars, with regular six month tune ups at a hundred thousand dollars each time, and they were still paying it off, but in their line of business that type of connection was worth the cash. “If she needs me she'll let me know. Right now she's just hit him with a bus, and is about to pop his kneecap. I give it five minutes before he collapses, he's already fighting with a dislocated right shoulder. How did your English test go?”

We talked about school while waiting for the doctor. It wouldn't look like we were very close to observers, he wasn't holding my hand or patting my leg or arm, or even ruffling my hair like I'd seen fathers do to their daughters. But we were used to it, we let our words and looks show that we cared for each other.

Finally the doctor arrived, looking over the report the school had sent. Dad left and I got to wear the all too flimsy hospital gown and then had the wonderful joy that only women get to experience of cold steel equipment being shoved into places it really shouldn't go into. I was the only girl I knew to have experienced it so far. when I turned thirteen my parents had insisted I get a FULL physical, they explained to me they were worried about GSD and needed a base to see what abnormalities might show up when, if, I manifested. Thanks a lot parents, that made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Whatever the doctor found, didn't make her happy. I was allowed to put my clothes back on, and was moved to another room, where I got to experience a sonogram. With my shirt up around my chest, she put a freezing cold gel all over my stomach, and proceeded to give my internal organs a massage, which is not nearly as comfortable as it sounds. Your intestines and guts shouldn't vibrate.

I saw my insides in black and white on a screen, I couldn't tell what was what, and the doctor wasn't telling me anything. I could tell something was wrong though, her friendly but professional manner, became just professional as she studied the pictures. Then she called in another doctor and had a whispered discussion together using a lot of words I couldn't understand as I wiped my stomach off.

Then they called in another doctor, and I started to panic. They sent me outside, to wait with Dad. Honestly I don't remember what we talked about, just that we ate lunch in the cafeteria, and at some point Mom came in sporting a black eye, that was visible even with her mirrored wrap around sunglasses, and limping. I'm honestly surprised the police haven't been called for spousal abuse, considering how many times my parents come home sporting bruises and broken bones. She gave me a hug, which had all the comfort of being embraced by a wooden statue, since she was only wearing a light coat and I was in a thin blouse.

An hour later we were sitting in an office facing a confused doctor. The doctor didn't want me there, but my parents insisted. They'd made it a point to not hide anything from me, considering their business they didn't think it would be fair to me.

“Mr and Mrs Young, I'm not sure how to explain this but looking at the sonograms we have taken of your daughter and comparing them to her files, her overies and womb have shrank. Everything indicates she should be healthy and I am not aware of any common medical condition which would do this.” She stopped when my parents didn't react with shock or amazement, just a tightening of their lips and a sad look in my Dad's eyes. The shock was all mine.

My parents stood up, my Mom had to pull me gently to my feet. “Thank you doctor,” Dad said. “We'll send you the name of a doctor in Vancouver tonight, he will be taking over Estelle's case and will require her files as soon as possible.”

“If I may ask, is this a genetic problem of some kind?” the doctor asked looking even more confused.

Mom answered this one. “In a way. We will ask that you respect our privacy, and to give as much support to Dr. Sharpe as possible, when he contacts you tonight.”

With that we headed to the door. Mom called the school and said I'd be out for at least a week, but I was capable to doing homework and to have everything emailed to me. Once we got home, I headed up to my room to read. It was easier for me to escape to the peace and security of my books than to face whatever was happening to my body.

Mom came in a while later, her short, mousy brown hair still damp from her shower, she was moving more easily and her eye was almost completely healed. She was wearing a turtleneck sweater and a thick pair of gloves, so when she sat on my bed, I went over and cuddled in her arms, she was soft to the touch now, unlike at the hospital where her flesh had been unyielding.

“What's happening to me?” I asked.

“You're a mutant. We don't know what's happening to you exactly, but it's probably GSD,” I heard her fighting back tears. “You and I are going to Vancouver tomorrow to see Dr. Sharpe, he works with the Vancouver Heroes Corp. We'll stay with your Uncle Herb while they get a better idea of what's happening.”

Uncle Herb wasn't really my uncle, he was another superhero who worked with my parents on occasion and we would visit him every summer for a few weeks. He didn't get many visitors because of his looks, but he was one of the nicest guys I knew. “Will I look like him?”

“Probably not. But we won't know until the experts can run some tests. It will be ok, your Dad and I knew this was a risk and we're ready for anything,” she assured me. Her kiss on my head should have been tender. Instead it was hard and her hair felt like wires.

My life wasn't bad, but it wasn't exactly pleasant either, and it seemed like fate decided I needed a kick in the ass. I couldn't help it, I started to cry.

**
November 21st, 2007

Usually we'd drive to Vancouver, the road over the Rockies while kind of scary in places, you try looking down a cliff that is several hundred feet straight down when your mom is a speed demon and try not to get light headed, but this time we took a plane. Even my Mom didn't like to risk the mountainous roads in the middle of winter. So we had the joy of going through airport security. When I was younger, this was a big hassle, as my parents didn't want to let the MCO know much about them, and I was too young to go through security and then wait for them all by myself. So they'd have to get an airport agent to go with me, or one of them would go through the MCO checkpoint, come around to see me on the other side of the check in, and my other parent would then get checked in. There's a reason we prefer driving whenever possible.

But once I turned twelve, even my overprotective parents had to admit I was old enough to do it all myself. The problems didn't end though, because I was still a minor I had to explain that my parents were going through another security check in, as quietly as possible so that the people behind me and in front didn't hear much. As soon as security learned my parents were mutants, it was a toss up if they'd be professional and uncaring, or panic. I couldn't tell them that the people they were so scared of were two of the biggest heroes in the Canadian prairies and had even helped out the better known Vancouver heroes a few times. Or explain to those who were staring at me as if I was about to start shooting fire and killing everyone, that they had probably cheered my parents at a parade or city festival sometime in the last year.

Fortunately for my fraying nerves, the check in was easy, and airport security was professional. Mom met me halfway to the gate and we walked in silence, both lost in thought. I couldn't help staring at my hands wondering if they were hairier then yesterday or the week before. Rubbing my cheeks to feel the scratchy patch of skin, was it from the -30 degree weather and was just dried out, or the beginning of scales. Was I moving more fluidly then before, were my bones turning into jelly, or my muscles becoming stone. I'd seen all of that in my nearly fourteen years. I'd studied the villains my parents fought, not because I wanted to be a superhero, but because I wanted to know if Mom and Dad would be coming home that night, and if they'd be bruised, dazed, or broken.

I'd also met a lot of newly manifested mutants my parents had helped out. Once they were sure the kids were safe, they'd found it helped them if they saw that not all kids would run screaming in terror. Sometimes that was what they really needed to see after they'd been thrown out of their homes or were been terrified of what was happening to them. So I'd met a dozen or so kids from the prairies who needed a place to stay while relatives or foster families were found for them, or needed to have their powers tested and didn't trust the MCO, and even a few kids who needed a chance to heal and were slowly making their way to Whateley, a special school for mutants. A few of the kids had been invited into our family, staying with us in the summer and over Christmas, until they were old enough to live on their own, or found other friends, boyfriends and girlfriends they wanted to stay with. Those ones we'd unofficially adopted, and even after they grew up, we still had big 'family' reunions in the summertime.

And of course I'd met the heroes from the northern US and most of the three dozen or so full time Canadian heroes, not all of whom were pretty or even nice too look at. So I knew exactly what I could turn into and I was terrified since the GSD seemed to be starting inside of me. Growing fur, claws and even scales was one thing. Those could be covered up in some cases, or at least you could live with those like my Uncle Herb did. But when the changes were internal, they were going to be big.

I remembered when I was eleven, a girl was brought to my parents base. As usual my parents asked if I wanted to meet her, but they'd spent half an hour explaining what was happening to the girl, and showing me pictures of her. I'd hidden in my room for the whole afternoon refusing to come out, curled up under my blankets. Finally I realized that the girl was crying and the wide eyed, open mouth expression on her dripping face wasn't meant to be scary, she was trying to scream as her body destroyed itself.

I'd visited her the next day, she was in a daze from the pain medicine they'd given her, but we were able to talk a little. She wouldn't tell me her name, just told me that that girl was dead and would never come back, so I called her friend, she'd liked that. I hadn't shown how scared I was, I even held her hand as she melted. Since her eyes were gone by then, I read her some of her favourite books. My parents wanted me to leave after a few hours, but I didn't, I'd stayed with her until she became a puddle of liquid flesh and the machines told us she was gone. I hadn't stopped reading even after her ears had disappeared. A month later I was put into boarding school.

My imagination put my face onto the girls body.

Quite a few kids and heroes I'd met were happy to be mutants, they thought of the publicity, the ability to be better than everyone else, to do things that most people could only dream of. As I leaned against my mother, on my way to an uncertain future, very carefully not touching any part of her not covered by cloth, I realized I was the opposite I was terrified.

I guess I should explain why I don't touch my parents skin if I have any say in the matter. It's not psychological, I can touch anyone else without any problem, I'm just not used to it and find it strange not having cloth between me and other people. Why my parents feel like stone to me is because they're heroes and have some very nasty enemies.

Before I was born, there was a wizard/psychic villain called Beaver Man. Yeah it's a strange name, he got it from a legend of the Slavey First Nations. The Beaver Man of legend was a trickster who would confuse and humiliate his enemies and then kill them, the modern one tried to do the same, with more focus on the killing unless you got him really angry. He was, emphasis on was, an eco-terrorist, who killed a lot of people working in the oil sands. Since my parents had a contract with the major oil companies they fought a lot for over a year. Then he captured my Dad.

It took my Mom two weeks to find him, and the fight came close to killing her. Beaver Man got away, and Mom grabbed Dad, who was in just as bad shape, ready to race him to the hospital. Then the spell went off.

The spell is complicated and mixed with psychic suggestions. When they touched the spell activated, it wasn't deadly, but it was malicious. My Mom and Dad can't feel each other. When they touch, its like touching stone, no softness, no warmth, no real feeling. Clothing lessens it, the more clothes between them the more real they feel.

It sounds simple, but think about hugging a statue or a piece of wood, sleeping next to someone who makes you shiver with cold, a gentle pat on the back for encouragement or holding hands, feels like its from a cold, impersonal doll and can even hurt because to them its as hard as rock. To everyone else its perfectly fine, they're warm, soft, gentle, but to each other...

So how does all of this affect me?

When the spell happened, my Mom was unknowingly a month or two pregnant with me. Within a week of being born, I would scream whenever they picked me up unless they were wearing thick clothes. I grew up only feeling my parents if we were both wearing two or three layers of clothing. So yeah, I love my parents, but we don't touch each other much, and I'm never sure of how to react when people touch me.

As for Beaver Man, Dad fought him again two months after the spell, Beaver Man suffered a fatal accident. Mom was pissed that she hadn't been there to help kill him. Too bad for her, she knew I was around and was sidelined for a few months. There was some outcry from the small group of environmentalists who supported the bastard, the guys who were anti-violence no matter what, and of course the groups like H1 who hated anything that heroes did. The majority just said good riddance, since the death was caught on videotape and clearly wasn't an assassination or even an excessive use of force.

Back in the present we were surrounded by people, so I couldn't talk to Mom about anything important, she just read some books, while I wrote in my diary. We both needed to talk, but until I saw this Dr. Sharpe, there wasn't much to talk about except how scared I was.

I hated it, but welcome to my life.

**

A limo waited for us at the Vancouver airport, and we headed straight for Uncle Herbs' place well out in the suburbs. With the privacy screen up, and a day to think about everything I could finally start talking.

“What do you think is going to happen?” I asked.

“I don't know. That's what we're going to find out, but no matter what, we'll be with you. We caught it early so we can limit the damage and help you adjust.” Mom said, gently stroking my hair with her soft leather gloves.

I thought of my friends and the mutant kids who had to leave their homes and schools, hiding who and what they were, like my parents kind of did. “Can I keep going to school?”

“If your change is only internal or small enough, I promise you'll stay at Joan Everest. Even if it's a larger change, we'll try to let you finish the school year.” She saw my hopeless expression. “I'm sorry Estelle, but you knew this might happen. We have to take things as they come.”

My voice turned whiny. “I like my friends, and my teachers. You know how long it took me to make friends and now I've got them. It's not fair!”

Mom gave me 'the' look, making me blush. “I know honey. Believe me, I know. But like everything else, we'll survive. If the worst happens, you can go to Whateley.”

I knew about Whateley, my parents had helped a lot of kids get there, and even paid part of their tuition sometimes. It sounded nice, but it was all the way in New Hampshire, I wouldn't get to see my parents or my friends in Edmonton for most of the year.

She saw my frown. “They've got a lot of experience dealing with kids in your situation. And it's curriculum is as good if not better than Everest. You'll learn how to use your powers and keep up with your education. You can even follow in our career if you want.”

I leaned away, my back hitting the door.

Being a hero was the last thing I wanted. I knew what it had done to my parents, and me. They didn't make a big deal about what the curse had done, but I heard my Mom crying at night in her empty bed, while Dad would stay up late in his own room talking with people from all over the world looking for a way to break the curse. And they both had lovers, they didn't talk about it, but they didn't hide it either. How and why they stayed together I don't know, but they did. I had nightmares of finding myself in their situation, of not being able to touch my own baby without him or her screaming, of watching my future husband die because I'd made a mistake, of having a supervillain capture me and doing... things to me.

There was no way in hell was I going to be a hero.

Mom sighed at my reaction. “You can try other things to. There are groups for almost everything at least when I was there twenty years ago. I was a member of Venus the modeling club, and I'm not sure if they still have it but your father was in the equestrian group. There's a great engineering group, martial arts league, a dance group, their own radio station. You've heard how much fun it is for the other kids.”

“Sure it sounds cool, but what about my friends?”

“Didn't you say the exact same thing when you first went to Everest? If this gets serious, you will need to go somewhere they can teach you how to handle the changes properly. A regular school can't do that for you.” She sighed, seeing that she wasn't getting through to me. “'El, I promise you, if there is the smallest chance of you staying at Everest, we will let you stay there. But you have to face facts, you're life is about to change drastically, hiding from it won't help.”

I hated it when she was right. I still wasn't go to give in so easily. I pulled out my diary and started writing. Mom realized I wasn't about to talk or listen until I was good ready, so she did her own stress relief, bending a six inch long, one inch thick metal bar into a horseshoe.

**

“Uncle Herb!” I yelled, running up to the hot pink, grizzly bearlike person who waddled down from the front porch of his ranch style house that overlooked the Pacific Ocean.

“Kitten! I've missed you so much!" he roared, lifting me up in his enormous paws, carefully keeping his claws from scratching me. I buried my face in his fur, enjoying the feeling. He was like a giant stuffed animal, and when he hugged me I always felt safe. Mom came more slowly, carrying our two suitcases.

“Evelyn, I hope you had a nice trip,” he said, taking one of the suitcases in his devil like tail, which was a slightly darker pink then his fur.

She shrugged. “It was first class, but it was still a plane, so barely acceptable.”

“Well come in, come in, and put your feet up. I set you up for an appointment with Dr. Sharpe tomorrow at eight, so you have all evening to relax.”

He carried me into his house, my mouth started watering as I smelled baked salmon, corn on the cob, and mashed potatoes with sour cream and butter. Uncle Herb boomed with laughter as he saw my nose twitch and my head turned towards the kitchen. “Yes, I cooked all your favourite foods. And there's a devils food cake in the fridge for you. I thought you would like it.”

I grabbed the two curved horns on his head, pulling myself up and gave him a kiss on his big sloping forehead. “Thank you!”

A green plant like woman with four arms came walked hesitantly into the room. Mom had told me about her, how the woman had to kill some people to save her daughter and was now on the run in the US. So she was laying low with Uncle Herb, because really who would look for a fugitive in the home of a superhero.

"Hi Evelyn, so this is Estelle that I've heard so much about?" she asked.

"Yes she is. Estelle this is Amanda Rozic," Mom said.

"Hi Ms. Rozic," I replied, still hugging Uncle Herb.

“Evelyn, your usual rooms are ready for you, I spent the morning getting everything tidied up. Why don't you go and get your things put away and freshen up, Kitten can help me in the kitchen, with the salad,” he said, handing the suitcase to Ms. Rozic, who carried it to the guest rom.

Mom gave him a thankful look and disappeared down the hall, while we went into the spacious kitchen. I went to wash my hands, while Herb put on a pair of gloves to keep his fur out of the food. “I've got everything you need for your special mixed salad, so go nuts.”

Getting three types of lettuce, already washed, I started chopping without much rhyme or reason. My uncle checked on the salmon and started buttering some french bread, the crushed garlic already waiting in a bowl beside him.

“How ya holding up?” he asked.

“Cried myself to sleep last night, and almost broke down in tears on the plane,” I told him.

He grunted. “You did better then me. When I started growing fur, I tore my bedroom apart. Any idea what your powers might be?”

“No. No tingling, no weird visions, no crushed silverware, for all I know the doctors could be wrong and I'm perfectly fine, or just have some weird disease,” I said halfheartedly.

“Well Sharpe is my doctor and he'll figure it out by the end of the week. For what it's worth I hope it's just a mistake, but if it's GSD, it's not the end of the world. And your parents and I will be with you every step of the way.”

“Thanks,” I whispered, wiping my eyes and nose with my sleeve.

He finished buttering the bread and began putting the garlic on top, while I began cutting up an apple. We worked in comfortable silence, and knowing he was close to me and understood what I was going through was better than any hug.

**

Supper was just about ready, and my mixed salad of three types of lettuce, apples, pears, shredded cheddar, chunked mozzarella, carrots, cucumbers, sweet peppers and some left over chicken chunks was sitting on the table, when the doorbell rang. Uncle Herb just pressed a button opening the door, so it was someone who hadn't set off his very cutting edge alarm system and was expected.

I heard Mom stand up and exclaim, “Eddie!” followed less then a second later by a loud oomph and the sound of kissing.

“Kitten, come over here and make sure the salmon is done,” Herb said, holding a fork out for me.

Forcing my feelings down, I tasted the salmon, savouring the rich taste. He'd put a thin coating of maple syrup on it as a glaze, giving it a wonderful sweetness. The activity and the flavours helped me gain control of myself. Eddie wasn't just Mom's lover, he was also Uncle Herbs' best friend and a friend of the family. They usually weren't open about their relationship, but sometimes when they first met it got a little heated. I couldn't say anything to Dad, he had a girlfriend in Calgary.

“Let's get everything on the table Estelle, and we can dig in. You have to be hungry I can hear your stomach growling from across the kitchen,” he teased me.

“It's not that bad,” I said, hiding my blush by ducking my head, letting my long coffee brown hair cover my face.

Uncle Herb rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure, I'm just glad I cooked enough to have left overs even with your mother. That might mean I have enough to feed you all tonight.”

“I'm not that big of an eater,” I insisted. Actually I was starving, but I wasn't about to admit it. I've always had a healthy appetite, but my figure was perfect thanks to all the dancing I enjoyed, and Krav Maga training my parents insisted on.

Grabbing the food I moved them to the table, which was already set, thanks to Ms. Rozic. Than steeling myself I walked noisily into the living room. I felt a breeze from the doorway and a chair creaked mightily, Mom was sitting back down as if nothing had been happening and Eddie was smiling innocently, his normally still antenna waving back and forth as if in a wind. “Hi Eddie,” I said, forcing a smile. “Supper's ready.”

We sat down and dug in. I'm certain that if Uncle Herb had looked even a little human he would have succeeded in his dream of running his own restaurant. Even without his gadgeteering skills, he could make a feast out anything, and with his custom made tools, anything coming from his kitchen was a delicacy. He actually had about fifty patents on a whole lot of kitchen appliances that could be found in kitchens all over the continent. Superheroing for him was mostly a hobby and a way to socialize.

Eddie looked at me with his insect like eyes, which could be called pretty if you liked bugs. “Your Mom told me you manifested yesterday, what can you do Estelle?”

“I haven't manifested anything,” I explained. It was a struggle to keep the annoyance from my face, Eddie always rubbed me the wrong way, and not just because he was with Mom. At least not totally because of that. “I had an upset stomach and they think there's something odd in my body and everyone is talking about GSD and stuff like that.”

Ms. Rozic, who'd been shyly eating, looked up in sympathy. "My... daughter has GSD."

"What does she look like?" I asked.

"Like she's made entirely out of glass. She's beautiful and she's made some friends at Whateley even though she's only been there for a little over a week," she said trying to encourage me.

"I just wish I knew one way or another," I said grumpily.

Eddie patted my shoulder. “It's frustrating not being sure. But it's nothing to take lightly, kid. I've seen some GSD kids who could have been saved if they'd been caught early enough.”

Have I said I don't really like Eddie? He's the only one who calls me kid anymore. “I know. I've helped out with some mutants who have GSD, and a quick exam showed something odd. Tomorrow they'll probably just say I'm a little sick, or it was a false diagnosis. I haven't done anything special, and except for the upset stomach yesterday I'm perfectly fine.”

Uncle Herb jumped in. “On Thursday, a few of us from the Heroes Corp, are going to be going to a special assembly for several of the downtown schools, would you two like to come? I'm not sure how interesting you'll find it Estelle, but we'll be giving a couple of short speeches, showing some videos of our more interesting fights, and showing off some of our powers.”

“I'd love to go,” Mom said at once. She always liked being in the spotlight, and loved being around kids.

“I'll go to.” I didn't like being in the center of attention, but seeing Mom do her stuff when there wasn't any danger was always fun.

“Do you have a superhero costume? If we can figure out your powers by then, you could be considered a junior hero like they have in New York,” Eddie said with a grin.

Mom and I both gave him a look of death, which is pretty impressive coming from Mom since she still had on her mirrored sunglasses. Somehow she can make them glint just right, it's almost like a superpower. “Not on your life,” I said. “I'm not a hero.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “Ok, ok, it was just an idea. Right now we're still trying to decide who will go. Herb is definitely going, and we're debating between Mermaid and Mo Shu Shi.”

“Why not both of them? Mermaid is cool, and Mo Shu Shi has the mysterious wizard thing going for him,” I said.

Herb shook his shaggy head. “We've heard that there's something brewing in the shadows. We wouldn't even do this, but it was set up a couple of months ago and we don't want to disappoint the kids. So we're doing it with the minimum number of people, and keeping it to no more then two hours. Frankly having you guys show up is really helpful, if you're ok with it Evelyn we'd like you to be on call. With your speed you can relax and enjoy the party, but join in if things get out of hand.”

“Sure,” Mom said without any hesitation. “You've got my spare suit and weapons at your headquarters right?”

“Yeah, we've got your crowbar waiting for you,” Eddie said chuckling.

No one ever said Mom was subtle, when she wanted someone hit she wasn't going to be tricky about it. “Can I take some video for the Edmonton Duo's website?”

That got a blush from Mom. I wasn't the creator of the largest fan website to my parents, or even a big supporter, but an occasional embarrassing story or picture that couldn't be traced to me or give away their identity would sometimes make it to the administrators. I usually only did it when I thought things were getting too boring, or they set up business on my birthday, and occasionally I would threaten them with something REALLY embarrassing when I really wanted something. I couldn't do that last one too often, they always made sure to get me back for it, and sometimes they called my bluff.

The two guys started laughing, while Ms. Rozic looked a little confused about what the joke was. “Tell you what, kid, I'll get you some of the official videos with the blessing of the mayor,” Eddie promised.

“Thanks. Now what type of guinea pig am I going to be tomorrow?”

“First, you aren't a guinea pig,” Uncle Herb stated. “Sharpe is a professional devisor who took the time to get a degree as a doctor, and he has never experimented anything that isn't perfectly safe on people. What he will do is probably have you sit in a bathtub of goo which will scan your entire body, checking your blood, hormone levels, tissue, and everything else you can think of. Don't worry I've been in it a load of times and it's actually pretty relaxing, but if you get too nervous he can give you some regular anesthetics so you sleep through the whole thing. By the afternoon he'll know exactly what's happening.”

Gulping, I had a sudden concern. “Isn't that going to be expensive?” Devises were super expensive because they were usually one of a kind, this could put a significant bite even into my parents ready funds.

“He has a special deal with hero types so that we only pay for his time and resources. He'll be able to buy a decent car out of this, but it won't be a big problem. And if you do have GSD, he's willing to waive all fees if he can study the progression and has access to all your medical files if you go to another doctor at any time. He really wants to cure GSD.”

Smiling bleakly I tried to look on the bright side. “So I guess I'll have the rest of the week to relax and have some fun.”

Eddie gave a snort. “Only if there is nothing going on. If you have something that catches his eye, he will keep you in his office as long as possible. Don't worry though, he has great food and will remember to feed you.”

I noticed that Mom was looking at me oddly. “What's wrong, Mom?”

“How many pieces of fish have you had?” she asked.

“Not much, I'm still hungry. One or two pieces, I guess.”

Ms. Rozic spoke up. “Eddie's had one, Herb had four, your Mother had six, I've had one, and you've had four, along with a big bowl of salad, eight scoops of potatoes, and three cobs of corn.”

I looked at my plate and realized that it was true. “Dammit!”

**

After supper Eddie disappeared, but whispered something in Mom's ear about meeting her later (gag), and Ms. Rozic retreated to her room. Mom and Uncle Herb spent the night keeping me occupied. They told stories of some of the funny things they did, and of course had to embarrass me by pulling out baby pictures. The first one was of me as a two year old sleeping curled up on Uncle Herbs' stomach, which is where I got the nickname Kitty. Then we watched some tv until I was yawning and staggered off to bed.

But I found I couldn't sleep. Even with my five favourite stuffed animals piled around me. I kept staring at my hands wondering what I was going to look like in the morning. With all I'd eaten at supper there was no question about it, I was a mutant.

Dammit.

Vancouver, BC.
November 22, 2007

The next morning we got another limo ride into the city, it was actually cheaper to rent a limo for the day than to get a taxi. Uncle Herb didn't come with us, when he isn't in his official hero garb, which does nothing to disguise his identity but makes people more relaxed when they see the words V.H.C., written in big letters on his armour, he's a big old homebody unless he's shopping for ingredients. We'd gotten up at five, so that we could make our eight o'clock appointment, which was a terrible hour. From living on campus my usual time to wake up was about seven, losing those two hours, plus not actually getting to sleep until after midnight, left me in a terrible mood. I hadn't even bothered with makeup.

While we ate breakfast, Mom had kept badgering me about my powers. Try to move your hand really fast. Step outside and point your hand at the ocean in the distance, try to feel the energy and push. Jump into the air as hard as you can. Lift that car size rock. Cut off a finger and see if it grows back.

Ok that last one didn't happen, but with the lack of ANYTHING happening, I figured it was just a matter of time before she got desperate. Thankfully the limo came and we got on our way before we took such drastic actions. I took the long drive to this Dr. Sharpe guy, as a chance to catch up on my beauty sleep, hugging my stuffed bear, Edward (Yes I still have stuffed animals, deal with it).

Mom gently shook me awake, and I stepped out to see a building that was jointly controlled by the Vancouver Heroes Corp and the R.C.M.P, (Royal Canadian Mounted Police). Like most hero groups in Canada, the team shared a base with the police, for added protection in case of an attack, to share resources, to help the two groups work together, and it helped the more anti-mutant people in the general public think the big bad super humans were under government control. It was a pretty good deal all around.

We went in a separate entrance that was only for Corp business. I'd been in there a few times, so I headed straight to the front desk which was covered in thick bullet proof glass and signed the book for us while Mom explained who we were to meet and why. Mermaid stepped into the lobby before I'd finished writing Mom's name in the digital book.

The long limbed, well built woman had dark, almost ebony skin combined with a very Asian face, especially in her eyes, even for Vancouver she looked exotic. She had on a dark grey and black wet suit that was padded in key spots all over, along with a cowl that covered just enough of her face to obscure her identity. Her face was way too bright and cheery for the early morning hour, but that was Mermaid, she was always happy unless she dried out, which wasn't likely to happen on the Wet Coast. “Evelyn, Estelle! It's great to see you two. Come on up, Dr. Sharpe is waiting for you.”

Once we got into the elevator, she knelt down to face me. “How are you doing, hon?”

“Surviving,” I replied.

“After seeing her eat last night and this morning, we're pretty sure she's an energizer of some kind. But she can't seem to do anything with her powers,” Mom filled in, sounding frustrated.

Mermaid hugged Mom. “Evi, it's going to be ok. Sharpe is the best in Canada, he'll be able to see if there's anything wrong with Estelle, and between all of us, I'm certain we can figure out what her powers are. Once we have that, it's just a matter of training her. You and Steve can do that easily enough.”

“I know. It's just so frustrating, with everything we've... We're just worried.” She wrapped her arm around me, hugging me to her side. I tilted my head so it rested against her shoulder rather than her cheek. I didn't like the cold, but I loved winter, because it gave us excuses to wear heavy clothes without being too hot or looking strange. It made hugs feel a lot better.

We came to our floor, stepping into an anteroom, with three doors. Behind one was an office, the other one was very formal with several comfortable chairs and a couch, the last where we went was a tiled room with several wheelchairs, stretchers and changing rooms.

“Estelle, Dr. Sharpe is getting everything prepped. Go into one of the change rooms and change into the robe, you don't need your underwear,” the superhero told me.

I cringed at the thought of a male doctor looking me over. It was bad enough when I had a woman poking and prodding me, but a man upped the embarrassment by at least a thousand. “Do I really need to do this?”

Mom got down on her knee, taking me by the shoulders. “We need to know if there is something wrong, and this is the quickest, safest way, dear. Please do this for me, and remember the faster you do this, the faster its done.”

My hand ran over her arm, gaining strength from her. “Ok. Let's get this over with.”

A minute later I was clutching a thin robe around me, pretending the shivering was just because of the cool air. When we went into the examination room Mom walked right beside me, not quite touching me, Mermaid put her hand around my waist, and gave me some advice. “When you get into the goo bath, take the anesthetics, it's better that way.”

“It's that bad. Uncle Herb said it was comfortable.”

“The first time is the worst. And he's a guy, who's finished changing. The nanites are going to be checking out your insides, and lets just say that its very intimate.” She felt me tensing up. “It's not bad, it's just creepy feeling.”

If I thought I could have made it, I'd have ran for the elevator screaming. A girl who doesn't like skin to skin contact, having something strange crawling all over and inside her, hello nightmares. And then I heard someone start to shout, which just made me feel SO much better.

A grey haired man with a pronounced limp stalked out of a back room, looking angry and muttering something about bad samples and working with incompetents who didn't know how to document their work.

He noticed me, as I hid behind Mom. The redness left his face, and a broad smile replaced his gargoyle like scowl. “Ah, you must be Estelle. I've heard quite a lot about you over the years, but could never find the time to say hello. Hello!”

“Um, hello,” I squeaked, coming out from behind Mom.

The doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out a red sucker. “Here you are. I know children love lollipops, so I took a few from the pediatrics ward yesterday. If you two would please leave us,” he told the other adults, “This will take several hours, and I have to ask questions that no child should answer in front of her mother.”

I turned to face Mom, quickly handing her the sucker, she blew me a kiss and tried to smile as if that would help. Mermaid hugged me, and whispered in my ear that nothing bad would happen, and to remember the anesthetics.

When they left, Dr. Sharpe motioned for me to sit on a chair and pulled out an electronic notepad. “Now, I've read the doctors reports but I have a few questions. Have you had any other cramps since then?”

“Yeah, off and on. Usually just five or ten minutes, every few hours.”

“Has anything else out of the ordinary happened? Please tell me even the smallest detail.”

“I ate about five times what I usually do last night. And I've been itchy... down there. ”

“In the last year have you had sexual intercourse? That includes oral and anal."

“NO!”

The questions went on like that for a while. Finally it was done and I was taken to a room with a door like a bank vault. Inside was something that looked like a Jacuzzi, but instead of water it was full of florescent orange goo. It moved gently as I watched.

“Estelle, this is a devise that I invented five years ago. It will scan your body more accurately than any other devise I know off. It will take several hours, at the very least you will be in until noon, possibly all day depending on the changes you're undergoing.” He pulled out a controller and pressed a button. Speakers and a tv came out from the walls. “Now if you want to stay awake, you can watch virtually any channel in the world while you wait to finish. I will also have a robot bring you in drinks and refreshments as needed. It's quite comfortable, I often slip in it after a long day to relax. Or you can be put to sleep and wake up as fresh as a daisy when its done.”

“Sleep!”

He looked a little disappointed at my decision, sighing as he tapped a button to put the tv away. “Very well, please come here.”

We went to the edge of the devise, where he slipped a mask over mouth and nose. “This will supply the gas and when it scans your head will ensure you keep breathing. Don't worry I've used this devise three hundred times, no one has ever been injured. And I'll be checking your vitals the entire time from the next room.”

I nodded, still very unsure about this thing, but not really having any choice if I wanted to know what was happening to me. They say ignorance is bliss, well, I had just enough knowledge to be terrified. “Alright.”

“As soon as I'm out, disrobe and get into the pool. Just say you're ready and I'll turn on the anesthetics remotely and I won't start the devise until you're asleep, which will be about one minute.” He saw me looking at the walls warily. “Don't worry, don't worry, there are no cameras in the room. All the information comes from the devise. Now hurry up, I can't wait to check you out.”

I watched him hurry out of the room. As soon as the door clanged shut, I put my robe on a hook and hesitantly climbed into the goo. It felt like porridge, warm, gritty porridge. Remembering how Mermaid said it was very intimate, I clenched my legs shut as hard as I could. If this didn't work, I was going to kill Mom for making me go through with this. When I was seated as comfortably as possible up to my neck in the stuff, I said, "Ready!"

Nothing seemed to be happening, I was actually starting to get worried. All of a sudden I heard Dr. Sharpe's voice. “Alright Estelle, we're done here. Please step out, have a shower in the alcove and then come out so we can discuss things.”

“We're done?!”

“Yes, I told you it was quite painless.”

Then I realized my face felt sticky, and my hair was matted together. Taking off the gas mask, I stepped out of the goo feeling quite rested. The goo fell off of me back into the devise as I stood up, leaving just a yucky residue. The shower was surprisingly easy, as soon as the water hit my skin the stickiness dissolved. I still washed myself thoroughly.

Thirty minutes later, with the help of a heat lamp I was dry and feeling really good. Although my stomach was growling fiercely, I wondered how long I'd been asleep for. When I stepped out of the change room Mom was waiting for me. Her hair was damp, probably from having a shower, her face was still flushed, and she was bouncing on the balls of her feet, I had a good idea what she'd been doing while I was asleep. I bit back a sigh and tried to joke, “No horns or fur yet.”

That got a weak smile. “Come on, it's almost suppertime. We have supper ready in the doctors office so he can explain everything as we eat.”

We actually ate in the sitting room, the chairs were comfy and the table was loaded down with gourmet pizza. A holographic projector lit up one side of the room. Dr. Sharpe wasn't smiling but he stared at me with great interest. I almost wished it was sexual, I was used to seeing that when I was back home on the weekends and wandering around town. This was different, it was more like I was a present a five year old was looking at on Christmas morning.

Mom spoke first, I was too busy hiding my discomfort by eating to speak. “Does Estelle have GSD?”

“No, he's changing because of his Bit. It's not my usual area of study but it's a fascinating case, and he will most likely be able to go out in public without any real concern,” Dr. Sharpe said with glee.

The pizza dropped from my hand. “HE?!!!”

The doctor looked really embarrassed. “I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to say it like that. I've just been looking over your scan all day and it slipped out.”

Mom was at my side as quickly as I could blink back the tears, her hands wrapped in her sweater sleeves holding me as I tried not to vomit. “What do you mean?” she demanded.

He took a breath to regain his composure as I was losing mine. “Her testosterone is through the roof, estrogen is lower then you'd find in most males her age. The scan shows her ovaries and womb have shrank slightly since Friday. I'm not sure what her clitoris was like before, but its well above average in size. It is apparent that Estelle is becoming male, it's a growing problem for exemplars, still fairly rare, but becoming more common, and fortunately appears relatively stable. So health wise, Estelle has little to worry about and without the social stigma of many GSD cases."

Through a haze of panic, I heard Mom ask how long it should take.

“From the amount of testosterone and other hormones in her body, the rate of change in her reproductive system, I'd say within a year she'll outwardly look like a male boy of her age, except for the penis which will still be forming, and be fully male in two to four years. I can narrow it down after we do a study of his, er, her rate of change over the next few days.”

I ran for it. Screw being hungry, I needed to get out of there. Running down the stairs as fast as I could, barely able to see, I didn't want to be a boy. Sure I liked looking at them, but actually being a boy? They were dirty, covering themselves in aftershave and cheap deodorant rather than taking a decent shower. They only thought about sex. They were violent. Didn't know how to dress properly. Didn't know anything about romance or how to have a conversation that didn't revolve around sports, girls or action movies. And I was going to be one.

I was going to have a penis hanging between my legs! Disgusting!

My foot missed a step and I started going down, the floor rising up to met my face. Screaming I covered my face, trying to stay loose, hoping that I wouldn't break my neck. Something hard grabbed me, twisting me in midair, there was a thud and I was being cradled by Mom, plaster dust raining down on us as she sat on the floor.

My tears soaked her sweater.

**

We drove straight to Uncle Herbs' home after I stopped crying. I knew Mom had been thinking of spending the night at the VHC base if everything went ok so she could spend more time with Eddie. But after how I... possibly overreacted to hearing the news about my unwanted sex change, she decided it was better if I was somewhere I felt safe.

I laid on the seat with my head on Moms lap, her coat acting as a pillow, while she lightly stroked my hair with her soft leather gloves singing a lullaby she would sing all the time when I was younger. I tried not to think about what my body was doing to me. It simply wasn't fair. Mom got turned into a beautiful woman, not some blonde bimbo, but graceful, strong and actually properly proportioned, the only bad thing was her eyes. Dad went from a skinny, sickly nerd to being handsomer then Brad Pitt, and a heck of a lot stronger.

I manifest and it's all hey sucks to be you. Can't wear makeup anymore, forget about having kids, bye bye fashion sense, wasn't going to be treated like a lady and taken out for a fancy evening. Couldn't cry or giggle anymore. I'd have to learn how to punch my friends, and I'd probably have to use my fighting skills. Going window shopping was right out, unless it was for video games. The list went on and on. I hadn't even had a boyfriend. Now if I did I'd be called gay.

Would I start liking girls?

Hugging my bear as if I'd never get another chance to feel his well worn fur, because I knew guys couldn't be caught dead with stuffed animals, I tried not to start crying again.

**
5:30am
Edmonton, Alberta,
November 23rd, 2007

Fly By, more commonly known as Steve Young when at home, sat at his computer struggling to stay awake. He hadn't slept much that night, thinking about his daughter had him too worried. Even with his girlfriend sleeping naked in his bed behind him wasn't helping.

He'd thought a lot of things could happen to Estelle, but turning into a boy? That hadn't even been on the radar. There was no way Estelle could stay in her school for more than a few months. She'd have to leave by the end of the spring term at the latest. And she couldn't really stick around Edmonton, not at first anyways. Too many people would know about her change, she'd need time to get used to it, before she could rebuild her life.

The fact that she was an energizer of some kind was another factor. If she was just an exemplar, she could learn from them how to control her strength. But an energizer could explode all too literally. There was only one boarding school he knew where she had a chance of learning about her powers, building herself back up, and finding people who could comprehend at least a little bit of what she was going through.

But first he had to make sure that she'd be safe at Whateley. He had been a senior there when Force-Bolt had killed his girlfriend Paragon, after he discovered Paragon was actually a boy turning into a girl. His little girl hadn't had an easy life, but he would do whatever he had to to make sure she was as safe as reasonably possible.

Going to his email he started writing a letter.

**

Vancouver, BC
Late Morning

“Come on lazy bones! We've got things to do and you can't spend all day sleeping,” Uncle Herb roared.

Falling out of bed, I slowly got onto my knees. “Ow! Why did you do that?” I asked the furry guy, who was dressed in his going out clothes, baggy shorts and a t-shirt that read feed the bear on it.

“The farmers markets are open, you have the day free, and I feel like cooking tonight. So get dressed, you're going to help me because I hate shopping alone.” As he spoke he dug through my closet, tossing warm leggings, a cute skirt, a tight top and a sweater at me.

I stared at the nice clothes I wouldn't be able to wear in a few months. “I... I don't want to go outside right now.”

“Too bad. You can't spend time mopping, take it from my years of experience. You can get dressed and come with me, or I'll carry you kicking and screaming in your nightshirt and take you downtown anyways.”

One look in his eyes convinced me to get dressed. When I was ten I'd been in a snit over something, and hadn't wanted to get out of bed. He'd carried me outside and I'd spent over an hour wandering around Vancouvers' boutiques and markets in my sneakers and barbie pajamas until he thought I'd learned my lesson and gave me some regular clothes to put on.

Mom was already waiting for us in the customized SUV that Uncle Herb used. As I headed out the door, Ms. Rozic handed me a hot, homemade BLT. Climbing into the back I let Mom and Uncle Herb talk, staring out the window at nothing, eating my breakfast.

We got to Herbs favourite place the Winter Farmers Market at Nat Bailey Stadium, which was pretty packed with food vendors, organic and not so organic produce, baked goods, handmade goods, music and more. Some people who were new to Vancouver shouted and even screamed when they saw Uncle Herb, but the vendors knew him very well, they called out greetings, offering him samples, asking what he was going to cook that night, and swearing that their stuff was the best.

A few of them remembered me because they'd see me almost everyday when we visited the summer farmers market. As we wandered through the stalls, I started to loosen up, helping pick out the best salmon, late season berries made sweeter than ever by the chilly temperatures, eating one of the best pulled pork sandwiches ever made, sampling cheeses that you can't find in any supermarket, inhaling the scent of spices, trying to figure out what would be best to cook with. I was even able to sip a little bit of sweet ice wine that was offered to Uncle Herb. It was all I could do not to start eating the apple cobbler we bought, which smelled fresh and buttery having been made that morning.

It took three hours to work our way through the market, with Uncle Herb talking to almost everyone. He also posed for pictures with people who asked politely, and pointedly turned away from people who didn't ask or were rude about it. A handful of people saw him and glared or walked away with a disgusted look on their face. We ignored them, the bigots were just par for the course and we had to deal with them everywhere. As long as they didn't get in Herbs or my Mom's face, we ignored them.

Heading back home, Uncle Herb and I discussed how best to prepare the piles of food that filled the back. Mom stayed out of it, she could cook pretty decent food, but it was never her favourite thing so she and Dad split the job, or ate out, and on weekends I'd do a lot of the cooking. I'd learned to cook from Uncle Herb and loved every minute of it, even if I sometimes experimented with things I shouldn't, we'd all agreed to never talk about the chocolate covered rice balls I'd made when I was eleven.

We spent a few hours cooking, Mom and Ms. Rozic talked together and acted as go-for's for Uncle Herb and I. The dishes didn't match each other, there was no style, no overarching theme, and we didn't care, it was just fun, and I needed that. I went to bed early, with a very full stomach. And surrounded by my toys, I managed to fall asleep.

**

November 24th, 2007

The good mood from the day before died away as I was driven into town for another meeting with Dr. Sharpe. This time Uncle Herb drove us, I felt a little guilty, he was only doing this because he wanted to protect me, even if it was protecting me from myself. I wasn't about to turn him away however, I couldn't tell my regular friends about what was happening to me, and they were hundreds of kilometers away. There was just Mom and Uncle Herb, so I'd lean on them as much as I could.

When we got to the doctors office, Mom stayed with me until it was time to climb into the devise. I opted to go to sleep again. Again there was the strange sensation of not actually feeling myself going to sleep or waking up.

This time it only took until lunch time. In the sitting room there were sandwiches from one of the best deli's in town. Doctor Sharpe tried and failed to make small talk while we ate before he told us the important news.

“I have an estimate on how long it will take you to change, Estelle.” He looked away almost ashamed. “At your current rate of progression, you'll lose your breasts no later than December, next year. By then your waist will be nearly identical to a boys with only a slight curve. You should increase in height by anywhere from 10 to 14 centimeters. Also this summer you should have a penis that is functional for urinating, but will be quite small. At the current rate of growth, it will be two to three years before it is of average size and functional for sexual purposes. In that same amount of time, you're pelvis will have become identical to a males, and your shoulders should reach their full width. Within one year of achieving that, your ovaries will have fully transformed into testes, and you'll be a fully functional male.”

“Can we slow it down?” I asked, using a napkin to wipe my eyes.

He shook his head. “Not with anything I'd be willing to risk. If it was a severe health risk, or deadly, there are some new devisor drugs I'd be willing to try. However in your case... it's not deadly. From early trials, you'd have a 40 to 60 percent chance of suffering burn out, resulting in death, a more severe change, or actually speeding up the process. If you aren't lucky, you'd die painfully.”

Uncle Herb picked me up and placed me on his lap like I was a child, so he could hug me. Mom patted my back telling me not to give up hope. With my face buried in pink fur, I couldn't tell what the doctor was doing, I didn't care, he'd only brought me bad news since I met him.

“Estelle,” Sharpe said timidly. “Estelle, I have a friend who has gone through something similar to you. She's a mutant as well, and she lives in Seattle. If I ask her, she could talk to you. It might help you.”

“That would be appreciated,” Mom answered for me. “Thank you.”

“It's the least I can do.”

We left soon after, Uncle Herb went home so that Mom and I could have a girls day out. We wouldn't be getting many more of them. We went to a spa, got our nails done, a massage, facials, and our hair styled, after supper we saw a chick flick and headed off to bed. If it hadn't felt so much like a last hurrah it might have helped draw me out of my stupor. But as I looked at my purple nails, I couldn't help thinking what I would say if I saw a boy with long coloured nails, and thinking what the bullies would do to him.

The next day went the same way. A day out with Mom, clothes shopping and trying to relax, which I appreciated. I don't get enough days with just Mom and I, so I learned to treasure the moments we could just seem normal. I smiled, laughed and joked, but I knew she saw the sadness and growing desperation building up beneath the surface. I felt like a volcano, rumbling away, apparently peaceful, but waiting to erupt in fury.

Even Uncle Herb couldn't do anything to reach me, and he tried. We went on a hike through the woods that evening, he got me to practice my Krav Maga, and set up his basement so I could work off some energy dancing alone to my favourite music. When I finally went to bed at midnight, I was still too full of angry energy.

When I woke up at seven the next morning, I discovered I'd ripped my stuffed kitten to shreds in my sleep. After a good cry in the shower, I was barely ready to meet the day, which involved going to the school presentation I'd agreed to see along with Mom and Uncle Herb on Saturday when everything had made sense.

I skipped breakfast so I could make my makeup perfect and chose my girliest outfit. If I wasn't going to be able to dress up much longer, I was going to flaunt it while I could.

**

For some reason I wasn't very hungry as we drove to the assembly. Maybe it was the fact that I wasn't using my power, whatever it was, but I seemed to just need one huge meal a day and two normal ones. Whatever it was at least I didn't have to worry about stuffing my face constantly.

Wait, I was going to a boy soon. I could shovel food into my mouth and no one would care.

So one good thing out of a hundred bad.

Looking at my compact, I tried to smile. The ruby red lipstick was beautiful against my pale skin, a touch of glitter under the eyes helped to further hide the black rings that were already covered by concealer. My dark bangs were low on the left side of my face, giving me a bit of mystery, and the french braid hung over my shoulder. My turtle neck sparkling dark purple sweater hugged the curves I was so proud of developing. Black tights clung to my legs and hips with a tanned faux leather mini-skirt, and knee high, black boots on three inch heels. Silver earrings and matching hair clips topped everything.

I'd always thought I'd be beautiful when I got older, and would picture myself wearing something like this or better, at a dance with everyone watching me as I walked in with the movie star or singer of the month. Now if I was lucky, the girls would be watching me with lust and the boys would be looking at me to see who was top dog.

Shudder.

We got to the auditorium, school buses had already arrived dropping off hordes of kids from grade 1 to grade 6. There were going to be over two thousand kids there, listening to special speakers all morning telling them what they could achieve if they tried, how they should be proud of themselves and other uplifting themes. If I was suppose to be there all morning I'd have died of boredom, but since I'd only be there for the cool stuff of watching superheroes it wasn't too bad.

We were met by a police officer when we parked in the place reserved for us. Mom and Uncle Herb were already in costume. Moms' dark red, yellow and gold costume which covered her entire body even her eyes, was eye catching, although if that was from her choice of colours or her figure was up for debate depending on if you were a guy or a girl. The hot pink metal armour Uncle Herb wore was eye catching and had probably made more than one criminal surrender just to escape having to look at it for any longer then necessary.

The officer led us in the back way where Mo Shu Shi was waiting for us. The Chinese-Canadian wizard looked properly mysterious in his long flowing robes, no mask concealed his face, but every time you looked at him his face looked different. “Hi, Estelle,” he said smiling broadly, with no accent. “I'm glad to see you are doing so well.”

I shrugged. “Thanks, Mo. So what are you planning to do to wow the crowd?”

He waved a hand through the air, creating a small illusion of a supervillain being defeated by the VHC. “I was thinking I would show them how turning to the path of crime was a good way to end up in jail. They'll like seeing the fight and while the message is rather blunt, sometimes the hammer works best.”

“That's what I like about you Mo,” Mom said, her hand resting on the crowbar hanging from her belt. “Unlike most hocus pocus types, you know when to drop the pretenses.”

He gave her a grin. “Sometimes you need to be mysterious, other times you need the crowbar. It's foolish to believe only one method works.”

A weedy looking man came over, eyeing the heroes nervously. “Excuse me,” he said in a nasally voice, “I'm suppose to show someone their reserved seat.”

“That would be me. Knock em dead guys,” I said, smiling at each of them equally so that no one would be able to say that I cared more about one then another.

While we wandered back stage, the guy looked at me oddly. “How come you came with the capes?”

“Can you keep a secret?” I asked, looking around nervously.

“Of course, no problem! I swear!”

“One of them is my mother,” I whispered.

His eyes went wide. “REALLY!”

“Yeah, Super Bear is my Mom. We like to keep it on the down low for obvious reasons. It's a little embarrassing and involves cloning, mad science and a really messed up devisor.” I almost fell over from laughing, as he looked at me with disgust, followed by anger. As if I'd tell him the truth.

He quickened his pace, and showed me to a chair just off the stage, placed so I could see a fair bit, and hear everything. At the moment, some hockey player from the Vancouver Canucks was talking about perseverance and giving it your all. I followed hockey sometimes, mostly with Dad, but I was a Oilers girl, the Canucks could go jump in the Pacific for all I cared. So I watched what the stage crew was doing, it was a lot more interesting.

People were rushing around, making sure their costumes were in place, shouting orders about who was going to be up next, asking what was going on with certain cameras, and double checking that everything was ready. And of course there were the police. With the mayor, several celebrities and of course so many kids, it was a tempting target for supervillains, which was why they had the heroes already there, along with so many police officers. Sure Mom and the other two weren't going to talk for long, but they weren't going to leave once they were done their hour. They'd just wait behind the scenes while others did their thing.

After half an hour of listening to the hockey player, followed by a music video about hope and dreams, it was time for the good stuff. Mo Shu Shi, appeared on the stage in a flash of light, his robes blew in a wind that only affected him. Uncle Herb, jumped down from the rafters with a roar, an anti-grav pack stopped him from breaking the stage at the last second, he shook his head, letting everyone get a look at his sharp horns. Mom came last, running so fast it was impossible to focus on her properly. She stopped at one person, saying hi to the shocked boy, became a blur and was giving a little girl a hug on the other side of the auditorium, she did that five times, signing hats and other things as she did, before getting on stage.

I clapped as loudly as anyone when the kids got over their shock.

Mom spoke first, giving a short speech about believing in yourself, and how love, friends and family could help you overcome any problems. It was a good speech, even if I didn't believe it. Maybe it was the fact that I still couldn't touch my parents properly after they struggled to find a cure for fourteen years, and was changing into a freak, but I wasn't exactly on board the look on the bright side of life train.

Then Mo Shu Shi did his speech, which was a lot more interesting. Seeing a superhero group fighting a supervillain in 3D, while in the safety of a comfortable seat is cool. However halfway through the show, Mom tilted her head covering her ear to listen to her ear bud. Five seconds later she was gone leaving only a gust of wind behind her. Whatever the heroes were worried about must have been going down.

The light show ended, and then Mo did a vanishing act leaving Super Bear to pass on the message and then start his own speech. He was doing well, no one who didn't know him well would have known he was agitated. I however knew him very well, and saw how rigidly he held his devil tail to keep it from waving around like an angry cat. Nervously I left my seat and went to find the bathroom.

I left the ladies room, wiping my hands when I heard some shouting. Walking down the wide hall, I saw three police men facing a group of people wearing dark black clothes with red symbols stitched into the cloth, each one had a white porcelain mask. One of the police officers was speaking into his radio when the masked men raised raised their staves, electricity shot out of it hitting the three officers, flinging them back and filling the hall with the smell of cooked meat.

My parents and various Krav Maga instructors had made sure that I would react quickly when facing threats. I turned and bolted down the hallway yelling for help as loudly as I could. My hair stood on end as they shot their electricity at me, but since they didn't hit me and I could still run I just put on more speed. This was not easy since I was wearing high heeled boots, but somehow I stayed on my feet.

Even with my shouting, I heard the sound of gunshots and what sounded like thunder. Kids were screaming, so were a lot of adults but those deeper screams more often ended with frightening finality. I saw the stage in front of me, it was absolute chaos. Uncle Herb had pulled out his laser rifle, sniping at dozens of attackers who were trying to get close to the stage by hiding among the audience. Electricity and energy flared against his personal forcefield.

He saw me, and turned firing as he did so. I couldn't see the beam of light, but it was so close, it actually burned my cheek. There was a scream of agony behind me, and then the world turned electric blue. My body spasmed as my nerves burned, I hit the floor and couldn't move, I could see a little at least so I knew I wasn't dead.

There was an animalistic cry, Uncle Herb dropped his laser gun, and pulled out his plasma pistol. Energy roared and it felt like I was in an oven. A pink paw came into view, a man screamed in agony, and blood hit my face. People were yelling for everyone to stop moving, while others screamed for reinforcements.

My muscles stopped spasming, I looked up to see a woman and man in white robes slit the throat of the mayor, letting his blood pour over a crystal and onto a thick mat that looked like ancient leather. Super Bear was being shot at from all sides, his horns were covered in blood, and the hand that wasn't shooting the pistol was dripping with gore. The demon tail circled around an attackers throat, crushing it in a single smooth motion.

A few police officers were still fighting, but they were being surrounded and cut down. Crawling, I tried to find somewhere to hide, my body felt hot, crackling with every move, sparks appeared in my eyes, and I was shivering and shaking uncontrollably. Even as I saw the bloodshed around me, I panicked at the thought of burning out, there was no other reason for what was happening to me.

Someone grabbed me, dragging me towards the stage, where Uncle Herbs' forcefield was faltering, letting the magical energy finally start hitting him. His fur burned, and his firing became erratic. I screeched as he fell with a boneless thud.

“-the first sacrifices quickly. The shield is holding, but the newcomer is already outside trying to get in,” the woman in white said to someone I couldn't see. “Make sure the hero is secure, we'll need him later.”

I was carried over to an enormous silk sheet covered in runes and symbols that made my sore eyes water. Thrown carelessly to the ground, my body kept jerking uncontrollably. Fifty kids walked onto the stage, looking dazed, moving like zombies. They were directed onto the silk sheet and stood their patiently, a few were crying, more looked scared, but none of them seemed able to do anything.

Ten people in black began chanting, I crawled towards edge of the sheet, which took me towards the back of the group. I probably, definitely couldn't do anything to the cultists, but if I could damage the runes on the sheet, it might spoil the ceremony. I'd probably die, but it was better then letting them sacrifice me without a fight.

As I crawled on hands and knees, my body burned. I wondered why the silk wasn't burning under my hands. Finally I reached one of the runes, the cultists were too busy chanting, finishing off the last of the opposition, and doing whatever they were doing keeping the kids in line, to pay attention to me. Feebly my hands clutched the fabric, trying to rip it, damage it, scratch the ink off, something. Nothing happened, the material was too strong, and the dark red dye wasn't about to be wiped away. I shoved my finger down my throat, maybe covering it in vomit would do something.

My stomach heaved, but nothing came out. I hadn't had breakfast, so there was nothing to bring up except some water. The chanting was getting louder, and I was feeling worse. My skin was too tight, my hands shook so much I thought I could hear them humming, more sparks danced in front of me. Staggering to my feet, I lurched forward, if I couldn't damage the thing, I could at least try to distract them.

As I moved towards the nearest cultist, I slammed into a wall. Energy flowed around me, pouring into my body. My skin began to split, every atom in my body was buzzing. I opened my mouth to scream, it felt as if I was in the heart of a star.

Energy poured out of my mouth. I saw the cultists in front of me turn to shadows and fade away. There were screams and the sound of walls collapsing. Seconds seemed to be hours, as the energy escaped, cooling my body, leaving me weak and exhausted but feeling alive.

The wave of energy turned into a trickle, through the spots that danced in my vision, a blur appeared. Cultists fell, their limbs and chests crushed before they could blink. A cultist flew through the air with a cry of fear, followed by the sound of shattering metal. A bear roared in fury.

The leaders tried to rally their followers. They didn't get very far when they were surrounded by smoke, Mo Shu Shi floated in the air chanting and throwing rice paper into the cloud. Dark energy flew back at him, forcing the hero to dodge and weave, breaking his concentration. Uncle Herb ended the stand off by shooting his plasma pistol into the cloud several times.

Mom finished breaking the last of the cultists and then she was holding me in her arms.

As I felt her hard body, I realized I was pretty much naked.

Mo floated over to me, seeing that I was less than dressed, he took off his long outer coat, draping it over my body. Uncle Herb limped over, the metal shackles on his wrists and ankles clanking noisily, his body slowly but steadily healing. His big brown eyes looked me over making sure I was alive, then he sat down with a groan, the pistol falling from his hand.

Police and paramedics came running in, which was fortunate, whatever had kept the kids under control was wearing off, their cries and screams steadily getting louder.

Clinging to Mom, she carried me out of the growing chaos. “Burnout. Was... so hot,” I gasped, shivering with cold now.

She cursed, ignoring the police and paramedics who were coming towards us, and began to run. Mom shouted something into her radio as I passed out.

Vancouver, BC
Early Morning, November 25th, 2007

When I woke up in a hospital bed, I realized that the nightmare hadn't just been in my head. Groan, I really wanted that nightmare to be a some Bit induced dream or something.

My skin felt raw and itchy, like I had a whole body sunburn. Moving my arm I knew there was an IV in me. Lifting the light blanket and my gown, revealed a series of suction cups covering my upper body. They weren't connected to anything but from the little lights on top of them they were probably sending the information to some computers close by. Mom was sleeping in a chair beside the bed.

“Mom,” I rasped.

She woke up instantly, clutching my hand through the blanket. “Thank God! I was so worried. I'm sorry I brought you there. I'm sorry I didn't get back sooner!” she cried.

I let her talk for a few minutes, as she kissed my hand through the blanket. When she got excited or upset it took a while for her to stop talking and listen to others. Finally she was calm enough to listen. “Water.”

She poured me the fastest cup of water in history, holding the straw to my mouth. The luke warm liquid was sweeter, cooler and greater than any drink I'd ever had. The second one was almost as good. Feeling like I could talk without ripping open my throat I asked the most important question I could think of. “What happened?”

“The people who attacked are, were, a cult. They wanted to summon their god to earth, not just temporally and spiritually, but physically and in a way that would keep it from being banished again. That's why they needed all those kids, they planned for it perfectly, even finding a way to use the mayors soul, as the ruler of the city, to set up a nearly unbreakable magical shield.” She beamed at me. “But they weren't counting on you.”

Closing my eyes, half remembered pain along with visions of blood, tears, runes written in red and ugly writhing energy came to me. “What did I do?”

“The video cameras that survived, Herb, and some of the students you helped save, were able to confirm what happened. You absorbed the energy from not only the electrical weapons they used, but the magical ward that should have kept you inside the circle. When it built up too much, your body released it, shattering the shield that was blocking us.” She hugged me tightly. “If you hadn't done that, at least the first fifty students would have died, probably two or three hundred before we would have gotten through.”

“And my burnout?”

The smile turned to a look of relief. “If you had one it was extremely minor. Dr. Sharpe believes your body became overcharged, and you didn't know how to release it. You'll have to practice to learn to control it, because once you activated the wards defenses it nearly killed you. But we know what your power is, so we can give you the training you need.”

I thought about it for a few minutes, taking another drink of water as well. “So, I have to be shot with energy to use my power?”

Mom nodded, looking quite proud of my power.

I thought about it some more, not liking where my thoughts were going. “I know what my codename is going to be.”

“What?”

“Target. I have to get shot to do any good,” I said with disgust.

Mom started laughing thinking that I had made a joke. I guess I had, but it didn't feel like one. I didn't want to be a hero, but what possible good could my power do for getting a job in the future? For helping me with school? For being of ANY goddamn use in my daily life?

I was turning into a boy and the only consolation prize I was getting, was only good for the very last thing I wanted to do. If I'd had any moisture left in my body I would have started crying. I settled for saying I needed to go back to sleep and pulling the blanket over my head.

**

It was well after lunch when we started testing my power. I still felt like an overcooked lobster, and my bright red skin was sticky with ointments to help the healing process, but Dr. Sharpe said everything would be fine as long as I didn't push myself too hard.

Uncle Herb sat beside the control panel in the VHC powers range. He looked like he'd gotten sprayed with gas and lit on fire, even his usually speedy healing couldn't handle all the electrical burns and magic damage he'd suffered. I wasn't sure if I should hug him or not, he settled that by hobbling over and giving me a gentle hug, kissing my cheek at the same time. “You did good, Kitten.”

“Thanks. You did good to, if there hadn't been so many of them you'd have kicked their butts.”

He scowled, which was actually pretty scary with his large teeth that I'd so recently seen in action. “Next time I go to an assembly, I'm bringing my missile launcher.”

Mom came over, wearing her more comfortable leisure costume, which was an over sized domino mask, and a fedora to hide her face, with a light cotton body suit. She still had her crowbar strapped to her waist, but this one had a noticeable bend in the middle. “Come on, Target, time to start testing your powers,” she said.

“Ok, Sun,” I replied. We were being recorded for our own personal records, so it was code names only, and I was wearing a face mask with my hair in a ponytail sticking out a hole in the back. It was tight and itchy, how Mom and Dad put up with it everyday I had no idea.

Mom attached a thick metal cord to a high voltage outlet. “Beginning test, on newly manifested mutant, codenamed... Target. Energizer with apparent energy absorption and expulsion powers. First test, energy absorption using lowest electrical setting.”

I walked over to the machine that Mom had just plugged in, she was standing well back on a rubber mat. As I'd been instructed earlier, I touched it with both hands, nothing happened. “Is this thing on?” I asked.

Uncle Herb looked up from his computer. “Everything is functioning normally, subject is absorbing one hundred percent of the power.”

“Increasing setting to level 5,” Mom said.

Now I felt something. It was a tingling along my arms, it actually felt kind of nice, like how a good shampoo or moisturizer tingles on the skin. I felt stronger, more alive. “This feels great.”

“Increasing to level 10.”

My whole body was tingling, I found I was bouncing on my toes wanting to move, to dance, to do something. I didn't know what was happening to me but it felt great. “Can you give me more?”

“Increasing to level 15.”

I started to get hot, not uncomfortably hot, but definitely a hot day at the beach feeling. My feet started tapping, my skin was feeling too tight again. As I practically jumped in place, I heard crackling sounds around me. “This is getting a bit hot, I can handle more though. Hit me!”

“Subject is complaining of feeling hot. Sparks are appearing from her joints, hands, mouth and eyes. Showing signs of hyper activity, and giddiness. Stopping energy absorption tests.”

“Aw come on! This feels nice, I think I could outrun you Sun,” I whined, flexing my legs to see sparks shooting out through my clothes.

Mom looked over to Uncle Herb, a smile came to her lips. “Let's find out. Target, lets go to the treadmill.”

Practically jumping on the thing I started running, sparks flew all around me like a little fireworks display. The treadmill sped up slowly and steadily. I didn't have any trouble running for about five minutes, then it was going just a bit too fast for me, and I started to stumble. It cut off before I fell, but it was a a close call. Hopping off, barely breathing hard, I walked over to where they were looking at the computer. “So how fast was I going?”

“You topped out at 40km/h, not as fast as a good baseline sprinter, but impressive. How do you feel?” Herb asked.

“Pretty good, I could do that for at least another five or ten minutes.”

Mom looked me over, “You're not bouncing or sparking anymore. Let's do some more running.”

Back on the treadmill I was able to run for another twenty minutes. But after the first three minutes, they had to start slowing it down, until I was running at my regular much slower speed. I still wasn't having any real trouble breathing, but it was becoming a challenge. Calling a stop, Mom looked over the results with Uncle Herb.

“Target, is capable of storing energy and using it to enhance her speed and endurance for a limited period of time. We will recharge her to the previous level, and proceed to weight lifting,” Mom said, she sounded impressed.

With a charged battery, I could bench press almost three hundred kilograms. I could also jump five meters with a short run, and three meters straight up. Strangely, I could also hold my breath for ten minutes.

Mom let me take a short break and then I was recharged. “Next test energy expulsion. In the field, Target channeled an unknown amount of energy into a blast that destroyed several walls of cement and wood, including a magical force field of unknown strength, reaching a range of 500 meters, a full report will be added later after analyzing the damaged structures. This left her dangerously dehydrated and unconscious for almost twenty-four hours, as well as suffering very mild burns, similar to a first degree sunburn, over one hundred percent of her skin, and possibly suffering a minor burnout. We will not test her at that estimated level.”

I had to admit I was enjoying the testing. The electricity wasn't fantastic, but the feeling was nice, almost like guilt free chocolate. When I was recharged, I skipped to the firing range, faced the metal target that was 50 meters away, and stopped.

I had no idea how to release the energy.

“Um, how do I shoot? I just screamed yesterday and it came out of me, kind of like throwing up.”

“You can feel the energy inside of you right?” Mom asked. I nodded. “Alright try to concentrate it in one spot. Since it came from your mouth the first time, it might be easier to move it there.”

With the power humming inside of me, I tried to picture it moving to my mouth. My feet and hands stopped tingling, my arms and legs became almost painfully hot. I kept picturing the energy moving through my body. When it reached my chest, my heart started to beat a mile a minute. Each beat pushed it further until it was in my head. My skull was too tight, it was going to burst like a rotten tomato. Sweat poured down my face. I opened my mouth and pushed it out.

The 40cm slab of metal shattered, fragments embedded themselves into the walls, and a few actually bounced and whizzed past us.

“Ow!” I moaned, smoke coming from my mouth. “I need a nap.”

Mom caught me as I fell.

**

I woke up to Mom yelling. “You WILL NOT see Target, until she has recovered. She was placed under extreme stress yesterday and is still resting.”

Someone said something in a gruff voice, and another person, I thought it was Mermaid, was speaking more soothingly. “She is not a suspect in the attack, and the police agreed that there is enough evidence that they do not need to question her immediately.”

Someone with a very deep voice spoke, and there was a murmured conversation. A few minutes later the door opened, Mermaid came in and saw that I was awake. “The MCO is here, and wants to question you. You aren't in any trouble and Prairie Sun is going to be in her the whole time. Can you handle it?”

I nodded. We had heard horror stories from the US, and a few places in Canada about the MCO, and some of the agents seemed to have fun making themselves into annoyances, but Mom and Dad were popular heroes and Vancouver was as mutant friendly as they came. If we were in Winnipeg or Quebec things might be different, but I didn't really worry about them.

“Put this on, and remember not to use names,” she told me, handing me the mask I'd worn earlier.

After I put it on, Mermaid stepped out. A minute later, Mom, a man in a dark suit, and the leader of the Vancouver Heroes Corp, Cloud Master, came inside. Only Cloud Master was smiling in his light blue and white costume.

“Hello Target,” Mom said. “The MCO was called in by the RCMP, Agent Glenn would like to ask you some questions. I will be listening in, so just tell the truth and don't worry about anything you are not in any trouble.”

Agent Glenn scowled at Mom. “I will write a formal protest about your interference Prairie Sun. You should have allowed the paramedics to take care of her, and you should not be in the same room while I am getting her testimony.”

“Go ahead,” Mom challenged him. “The RCMP have a written statement from her mother stating I am the girls temporary caregiver while she is in Vancouver and in any matter that pertains to the MCO. If you want to continue arguing the point, we can go downstairs and talk to the Chief Superintendent. I'm sure he'd love to deal with a dispute between the VHC and the MCO, concerning a child who all the news stations are saying saved the day yesterday.”

The scowl got worse. “Fine, stay here.” Agent Glenn came to sit beside me. “Hello, Target. I would like to ask you a few questions. First, what were you doing at the presentation yesterday?”

“I was invited by Super Bear and Hive Mind.” Using Uncle Herbs' and Eddies' codenames was second nature to me.

“Why would they invite you?”

“Because they are helping me find out about my mutant powers after I manifested last week.”

He eyed me carefully. “When you manifested was anyone hurt?”

“You don't need to answer that question, Target,” Mom said, her expression unreadable behind her mask but her tone dangerously sharp.

“Excuse me Sun, I thought we had agreed I would be conducting this interview?” Glenn said, his own voice very flat and full of menace.

“You agreed to keep it on topic. And the VHC made the deal, I'm going along with it because I'm a guest. But if you keep up this line of questioning, I will take the girl and go back home.”

Cloud Master cleared his throat. “I believe that Prairie Sun has a point, Agent Glenn. Please keep your questions to the matter at hand.”

“Fine,” the MCO agent said. “Where were you when the mayor was killed?”

I struggled to remember, even though I really didn't want to, all the blood and dead bodies. “I think I was being dragged to the circle.”

“And you didn't try to stop it?”

My eyes went wide, what was I supposed to have done? “I could barely move, I couldn't do anything.”

“But when you personally were in danger, you suddenly learned how to use your powers?” he asked, getting in my face.

“I felt like I was dying. I couldn't even walk!” Tears started to fall as the horror came back to me in full force. “I tried to throw up on the damn thing, I was so helpless.”

There was no mercy in his eyes. “You come from Edmonton?”

“Yes,” I said without thinking, just a split second before Mom said, “Don't answer that.”

“We know that Prairie Sun came to Vancouver by airplane, but there are no records of Target. If she came from Edmonton with Sun, that is a criminal activity, and the MCO needs to know about. If you continue to block this investigation I will call in my superiors,” the MCO goon said, reaching for his phone.

Mom was in his face, “How can the girl have an MID before we even know what her powers are? Dr. Sharpe, can confirm that until yesterday we had no idea what her powers could be, and the only reason we suspected anything was because a routine medical exam picked up a possible case of GSD.”

“According to the MID Act of 1994, all mutants must have an MID if they travel by airline, unless they are specifically flying to get an MID. Edmonton has a very good powers testing facility, so Target has broken the law and I may expand the investigation on my perogative. This is unarguable. The MCO being courteous to the VHC because of their work, but due to her infractions I am legally entitled to arrest Target immediately if she refuses to answer my questions.” He turned away from Mom and focused his attention on me. “Now Target, did you hurt anyone when you manifested?”

Mom got between me and the agent, her body was practically vibrating with tension. “You will stop this line of questioning or I will remove you.”

“You are interfering with an active MCO investigation, Prairie Sun. I will now contact my superiors and they can deal with you,” Agent Glenn said, almost gleefully.

Cloud Master put a hand on Moms' shoulder before she could do something drastic. Mermaid stepped inside, she was holding a phone. “Agent Glenn, your supervisor Mrs. Watson would like to talk to you.”

He took the phone as if it was radioactive, gingerly holding it to his ear. “Hello, Ma'am, this is Agent Glenn.”

We couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, but from the way he was getting whiter it wasn't going well for him. Two minutes later he was simply handed the phone back to Mermaid and walked out very stiffly without a backward glance. When he was gone, Mermaid handed the phone to me.

“Hello?” I said hesitantly.

“Hello Target. I am Mrs. Watson, I'm in charge of the Vancouver branch of the MCO,” an older sounding woman said very formally.

“Ok, did I do something wrong?”

She gave a little chuckle. “No, you haven't. I would actually like apologize for Agent Glenn, you won't be seeing him again.”

“Oh, thank you,” I said, having no idea what else to say.

“Before you leave Vancouver, I will need you to come to our office to give a statement about what happened and to get an MID. I've already discussed the details with Prairie Sun and she will come with you,” Mrs. Watson said.

“Ok.”

“Very good. I hope you feel better soon, and please stay out of trouble. Have a nice day.”

“You to,” I said, still stunned at what had happened.

The woman hung up and I handed the phone back to Mermaid. “What happened?” I asked.

Mom half sat on the bed, letting her fingers brush against my side. “Sorry about that honey. Agent Glenn has been a thorn in the side of the VHC and the older MCO agents here for the last few months. When he saw the report about you, he went on a rant about how you needed to be dragged in for questioning, and you were a dangerous mutant. He did some digging, found out you were under my protection and put two and two together, he started filing a formal charge for traveling without an MID that was caught by Mrs. Watson at the last minute.”

“So why did you let him even come here?”

Captain Cloud didn't try to hide his delight. “Mrs. Watson called and told us the situation. We explained why you didn't have an MID, and we all agreed to do a bit of a sting. Agent Glenn was told in writing what to talk about and ordered not to go on side topics like your lack of an MID. If he followed instructions, there would be no harm done to anyone. Since he went off on his own vendetta, on top of his other infractions, she has enough to suspend him with cause, when he comes back he'll be pushing papers and not coming near any mutants.”

“Oh. I'm glad I could help.” I still wasn't sure exactly what had happened. I knew the MCO wasn't evil with a capital E, but having the MCO boss in Vancouver working with mutants to punish one of her own agents seemed to be pushing things.

My confusion had to be pretty obvious, at least to Captain Cloud. “We work very closely with the MCO here, so they don't have any reason to distrust us. And we do enough public events that the public loves us, which makes it hard for certain groups to discredit us. It wasn't always this good, when I started here ten years ago we were at each others throats more often then not. It took a lot of work from the then Mayor of Vancouver, who happens to be my uncle, to force a change in the MCO leadership. When we saw that Mrs. Watson was putting in the effort to clean house, we started working more closely with her. When a bad agent is forced onto her, she passes on the warning to us, and does what she can to tone them down, get rid of them or push them so far under they don't see the light of day ever again.”

“Ok that makes sense,” I told him, laying my head back down on the pillow. I was still pretty exhausted from blowing up the metal.

Mom shooed everyone out of the room, locked the door and took of her mask. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.”

“Go to sleep I'll be waiting here when you wake up,” she said, stroking my cheek, with the blanket and her glove.

I didn't need to be told twice.

**

MCO Head Office for British Columbia
Vancouver, BC
November 26th, 2007

Mom and I walked into the MCO office. I felt pretty noticeable, my sunburn hadn't gone away, it had faded a little, emphasis on little. My normally pale skin was now red, a human shade at least, but I looked like I had a permanent blush. None of my clothes or make up would match my skin tone, not that it mattered much I was going to have to change my entire wardrobe soon anyways.

At least they couldn't see much of my skin. I was wearing a hastily made costume, pure white spandex, with a red bulls eye on my chest. Mom was less than happy about that, but I'd been adamant it was either that or a string bikini and a domino mask. Only the fact that I needed to get an MID had let me win that one. When we stepped out of the VHC car, we got quite a few odd looks.

One good thing to look forward to was that I knew everything I had to do, and I wouldn't need a nap afterwards. When they'd checked out the results of my shooting, I'd put out a fair bit more energy then I'd taken in. I couldn't do anything without being charged up, but I was creating my own energy which could be added to it. When I shot my mouth off, I put EVERYTHING into it, leaving nothing for minor things like staying conscious. Fortunately after some more testing last night and that morning, we found out I could fire energy from my hands, it just took some practice. Trying to control how much I shot off was a problem, but unless I went all out I never went beyond my limits.

To keep from passing out at the MCO, Mom had talked to the Mrs. Watson and they agreed to accept the tests we'd done earlier for when I shot off at my mouth. But I had to try everything else. It was going to be a long day, especially because I'd do something once normally, they'd charge me up and then I'd do it again.

Joy.

The front lobby of the MCO office was fairly spacious, but there was nothing that could be used for cover, the benches were very cheap plastic and had lots of holes in them, as well as being bolted to the floor. Looking around, I saw several tiles in the roof that looked like they were hinged, probably for weapons. And the only way past the lobby was through an oversized door that looked like a mini bank vault. Cozy.

I followed Mom to the check in, where a uniformed woman sat behind ten inch thick protective glass. There was a sealed slot for passing paper and forms through, and a microphone for talking. I knew for a fact they didn't have this much security in the Canadian Parliament, my class had visited it last year and gotten a personal tour from a politician.

“Hello, I'm Prairie Sun, I'm escorting Target for an interview and powers testing,” Mom said, not waiting for the woman to greet her. My parents work with the MCO, that doesn't mean they like them.

The woman didn't seem to care about the abruptness. “We've been expecting you. Please wait by the door, and you will be met by an escort.”

Mom tapped her foot impatiently, while I fidgeted nervously. I looked down at my body which wasn't completely on display in the costume, but showed off the curves I was actually quite proud of, a lot better than almost anything I ever wore. At least I wasn't exposing any skin. How some of the superheroines could go out and fight in a one piece swimsuit that had to be held on by two sided tape I had no idea. Of course I couldn't figure out how some girls could wear a string bikini either, so I guess I couldn't say too much.

It was a short wait before the door opened with a whine that sounded like a machine was opening it. Two MCO agents in plain black suits greeted us, and we were escorted to an interview room. They asked me about a lot of the details, where was I when the cultists attacked, what types of weapons they had used, what I had done to try to stop them. They acted a little weirded out when I told them about trying to throw up on the runes, but what were they expecting? At the time I was getting more than a little desperate.

The two agents kept everything on topic, and there were no questions about why I couldn't save someone, or why I got onto a plane without an MID. Which was probably a good thing because Mom was standing by the door and even without her crowbar, she can look REALLY intimidating just by tapping her fingers. When she really wants to freak people out she'd tap her fingers hard enough to leave her fingerprints in metal, but she didn't need to do that, thank god.

The interview took half an hour, and then it was off to the fun, fun, fun job of powers testing. It was long, tiring, frustrating and a little painful. The strategy game they had me play gave me a headache, the dodgeballs I had to do (TWICE!) gave me bruises, and I was only a little bit better then normal the second time when I was charged up. And playing with crystals and magical stuff had me thinking how much prettier the stones would look done up as jewelry.

After a very long day and a cheap lunch of Chinese food, I was given an MID which listed my powers as Energizer 3, Exemplar 1. I really wanted to rip up that exemplar trait. I wasn't going to be great at anything with that, just a handsome boy, it was as if some malevolent god was mocking me by giving me a stupid power that was low enough to be nearly useless, but could completely screw my life up.

It wasn't fair.

**

When we got back to the VHC headquarters to change into our civilian clothes, there was a special surprise waiting for us.

“DADDY!” I shouted, running over to him to give him a quick hug. He was wearing a thick sweater so I spent a few more seconds squeezing him extra hard.

“Hey princess,” he said, returning the embrace. “I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner, there was a lot of trouble with some idiot kids who'd just manifested I had to deal with. How are you doing?”

I wasn't sure how to answer that. I was still turning into a boy, which I hated. I had a stupid power I never wanted to use. And I'd nearly been killed. But I'd saved a lot of kids and I was being declared a hero in the newspapers which was pretty cool even if I couldn't enjoy it. The bad outweighed the good by a good measure, but it wasn't one hundred percent bad, and I didn't want to start crying, again. “I think I'll be ok.”

Dad gave me a big smile. “I know you will. You're a brave girl, and I'm so proud of how you stopped those cultists. I couldn't have done it better myself.”

“Thanks.”

“Now who's up for supper? Herb is already waiting in the car for us.”

I didn't need to be asked twice.

**

The servers had stared in amazement at the amount of food we'd eaten as they cleared the dishes from our private dining room. Having two energizers and a grizzly bear eating tends to make food bills go through the roof. I was feeling pretty happy with everything, my family was with me, I was going to be back with my friends on Monday, and I had just had a great meal. Best of all I didn't have to wash the dishes. I was kind of dozing in my chair, while the others talked.

“Do they know how long before she fully changes?” Dad asked.

“She'll look androgynous by summer, and biologically male in every way by November. Dr. Sharpe was able to refine the estimates with all the time she spent in the clinic,” Mom told him. “What are we going to do?”

Uncle Herbs' chair groaned as he moved around. “Evelyn, it's not the end of the world. I'm living proof of that. Estelle is tough, she'll handle it.”

I curled up into a ball on the chair, pretending to be asleep. I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear what they were saying, but I was even less sure that I wanted to miss out on it.

“I contacted Whateley and talked to Ms. Carson,” Dad started to say.

“You didn't!” Mom hissed. “What will they think when they find out?”

“Calm down. I did it to find out if she should go there. I was there when Paragon was murdered, I'm not risking Estelle if that type of thinking is still going on.”

“So what did she say?” Uncle Herb rumbled.

There was a pause, probably because Mom was glaring at Dad, and he was silently trying to calm her down. “She said that Estelle's transformation isn't that rare anymore. In fact they have a group set up to help people like her deal with the changes. She was playing coy, because she said that they like to keep this hushed up, but once we register her, we'll be given the details. She could start as early as the winter semester.”

I clutched my legs to my chest. I didn't want to go to a new school, I wanted to stay at Everest. My friends were there, I liked my teachers, I loved being able to practice riding horses at the stables, and learning how to dance instead of taking regular gym class. I didn't want to go to a school where they sent those kids I'd seen. I wanted to be normal, not like those kids with feathers and claws, or the ones who could die, melting away. Why couldn't I be normal?

“No. I told her if there was any chance, she'd at least finish the year at Everest,” Mom said. “She'll have to get a separate dorm room, and we'll need to get her things to pad her bra and hips, but she can do it.”

“Honey-”

“I promised. I will not go back on it.”

Dad rallied, “What if they find out she's a mutant?”

I heard the thick hard wood table creak, Mom was getting very angry. “Than we deal with it, like we've dealt with everything else. She finishes the year and then she can go. End of discussion.”

Thanks Mom, I thought to myself. Hoping no one would hear my sniffling, I wiped my face and tried to keep the tears from overwhelming me.

I got out of the car and looked up at my school. It was buried under snow, but the school was beautiful. The buildings were done up like old Victorian mansions, with steeper roofs to keep the roofs from collapsing in winter, and with the lights on it looked warm and inviting. Still I was scared. My skin was still the sunburned red, and while I didn't have any... extra parts, I half expected to have everyone pointing at me like I was a freak. Taking a deep breath, I waved goodbye to Dad then headed off to my dorm. I signed in with Ms. Kent, the dorm head, who gave me a sympathetic pat on the arm, before I went up to my room to get ready for class.

“El, what happened to your skin? You said you had a problem, but not that!” Faith exclaimed, when she walked into our shared room.

I had spent all week working with my parents coming up with an excuse for the unwelcome changes I was going to go through before the end of the year, we'd decided on a rare genetic disorder that I can't say the name of and don't want to try to spell. “Yeah, the doctor they had me see had to run some more tests. By the time he was done, well, I looked like this. My skin shouldn't get worse though.”

Faith gave me a hug. “It'll be ok. You're parents won't rest until they find someone who can help you, and your doctors will figure something out.”

“Thanks. I needed that.” I started to get dressed in the school uniform, a fetching blue and white uniform, since it was winter and I'd be going outside for a few minutes, I chose warm tights and a skirt along with the blouse and vest. “I- I'll have to change rooms next term.”

Her arms clenched so tightly I had to thump her on the back to remind her I needed to breathe. “Why?! You're like the best roommate ever!”

“I... can't really explain it. Just my body is going to change and it could be kind of embarrassing and gross.” It was nice not having to lie to my best friend, even if I couldn't tell her the truth. How would she take it, how would anyone take it? 'Hey I'm turning into a boy, you still want to be my friend?' Yeah right.

“I don't mind. I can handle anything. You can't go away!”

I hugged her back. Really she was the only person other then Uncle Herb who I liked to touch. And that was mostly because she was a hugger, and didn't know what personal space meant when we met two years ago. After getting over the awkwardness and wanting to beat her off with a bat I'd learned to like it. It probably would have made things easier if she was a cute boy, but as Dad always says, beggars can't be choosers. My mind decided to freak me out at that point, by making me realize that in less then a year I might actually find Faith attractive. I tried not to shudder, focusing on the moment. “I won't go away, I'll just be getting a new dorm. And I don't have any say in it, my parents are insisting.”

“This sucks,” she moped. Fortunately there wasn't much of a chance to get into a funk. The bell rang for breakfast, and we had to hurry if we wanted to eat, and not get a black mark for being tardy. Yeah, my school calls it tardy, not late. We figured they wanted to sound all high and mighty to help raise fees by a few thousand dollars. Regular students are late, we 'special students are tardy.

We headed for the cafeteria, bundled up in winter coats, scarves hats, and warm ankle boots, all in the school colours, (only my school has uniform winter gear, and yes we checked). The path to the main building was protected by a windbreak of nicely trimmed pine trees, so it was only -20 Celsius, instead of feeling like -40 because of the wind.

Hanging up our coats in our lockers, we got in line to wait for the food. We were divided by grade, fortunately most of my friends were my classmates, so I found myself surrounded and bombarded with questions, and more sympathy. Never wanting to be the center of attention, I just gave my standard answers, 'it's a genetic disorder, not contagious,' 'they were looking at treatments but nothing would work immediately', 'it is scary, but it won't kill me or leave me crippled or horrible looking.' That last one was a lie, I don't care how cute a guy I was suppose to be, I was still going to be a guy.

We walked through the door to breakfast, clicking our student cards under the watchful eye of one of the cafeteria workers, and grabbed our breakfasts. I got my usual french toast with real maple syrup, and a bit of bacon, along with some freshly made apple juice. Sitting down, my friends realized I didn't really want to talk, so the conversation turned to the attack in Vancouver. Another topic I didn't want to talk about, but had less reason to avoid.

“I heard that over a hundred people died,” Faith said.

“Only sixty or seventy,” I corrected her. Over a hundred and fifty people had been injured, horribly injured with burns and things too often, but they lived.

“Oh yeah, you were in Vancouver weren't you?” Jane asked, brushing a curly lock of hair out of her face with a pudgy hand. “What was it like? Didn't they lock the city down?”

I shook my head, "I was suppose to go to Vancouver, but they changed it to Calgary at the last minute. I just watched it all on the news between tests." If I had said I was in Vancouver, it would have been way to obvious that the girl was me.

“I just want to know what the Heroes were doing about it? The Cult of the Blood Father has been around for at least a year building up and stealing magic artifacts, and then they did this. Where the heck were the heroes or the police?” asked Tammy. I'm not really friends with her, but we're part of the same crowd. She's just a few steps above H1, so she tended to get on my nerves.

“I heard that they were preparing for something big, but weren't entirely sure what. So they'd staked out a bunch of museums and things, thinking they'd go after old magical stuff like before,” I told her. “They hadn't thought the crazies would go into mass sacrifice.”

Jane jumped in. “Well at least they were able to save the kids. That's something.”

“No way, the heroes were down for the count. If it hadn't been for that girl we'd all be bowing down to their big oogily boogily god right now,” Faith said.

“Hey!” I jumped in to protect the honour of my family. “Super Bear tried really hard, and if it hadn't been for Prairie Sun and Mo Shu Shi coming in, they'd have been able to keep the sacrifice going.”

“Sure, but it took a kid like us to let them in. Why are we paying for them again?” Tammy asked, refusing to admit a hero could do right.

“At least they were there. Sure they got tricked, but as soon as they learned what was happening they came right back and jumped at the first opening they could.”

“Ok, fine I'll give you that. But if they'd been on the ball sooner, this wouldn't have happened.”

“Anyways,” Faith said a little desperately, “what do you think of the girl who saved the day. Did you see her costume when she went to get her MID?” When most of us said no, Faith pulled out her smart phone and showed us a picture of me in my Target costume walking into the MCO office with Prairie Sun.

“Why would anyone want a bulls eye on their chest?” Jane asked.

“On Northern Heroes Net, they say she's probably some kind of energy absorber. That's why she could blow up the magical shield. So maybe she wants to get shot,” Faith said. She wasn't obsessed with heroes particularly, she read up on villains and anyone with cool powers. She and Tammy would spend hours talking about the subject.

Tammy looked at the picture closely. “I want to know why she went with Prairie Sun to the MCO. Why not Cloud Master or one of the other Vancouver heroes? What do you know Estelle?”

I rolled my eyes dramatically, and the rest of the table groaned getting ready for a long rant. Officially my parents were the personal assistants for Fly By and Prairie Sun, they managed to hide their identity through illusions, magical and technology, doing joint interviews once or twice every year. When my classmates first found out about that connection, they'd gotten a half hour long monologue about how I wasn't told anything and I just got some crummy autographs from the heroes every few months. I'd made it into a bit of an art, trying to see how long I could get people to listen, my personal best was an hour and forty minutes.

Not feeling like going into a rant I kept it simple. “The last time I tried to learn anything about Prairie Sun, I was grounded for a month and lost my allowance for two. They don't tell me anything. But, I think she was saved by Prairie Sun, so she just felt safer being around her. The only other hero who was near her for most of the fight was Super Bear, and he's cute in pictures, but believe me being near a giant grizzly bear is scary.”

“Maybe,” Faith said. “But look at this,” she flipped to another picture of Mom cradling me in her arms, it wasn't a very clear shot you could only tell that I was a girl and smoking, and... practically naked. I suddenly wished I could drop down a hole and die. As for how they got that picture I have no idea, it looked like it could possibly have been a security camera, but I'd thought most of them had been shorted out. “They look pretty close in that picture.”

“Yeah, but... she'd just seen the girl break a hole in the forcefield and how many walls? And there she was lying on the ground, still alive but smoking. Of course she'd look at her first.”

“I think they might be mother and daughter, or maybe an aunt,” Jane said. I did my best to look skeptical. “Hey look at it. Prairie Sun goes to Vancouver, and then this new mutant appears there at a show they're putting on. Then when the mud hits the fan, who's the first person Sun goes to? Not her friend Super Bear, but this girl. And then they go to the MCO together. You don't need to be Sherlock to connect the dots.”

Crap. “Why would they go to Vancouver to get an MID? Why not just do it here in Edmonton? It's against the rules to travel without an MID anyways, so how did they even get to Vancouver?” I asked. Thank you asshole MCO agent.

“Maybe they didn't know she was a mutant yet,” Tammy said. “This could have been her origin event.”

I shut up, nodding my head in the right places, adding in my own two cents sometimes, not discouraging them, but pushing it in odd directions. Sometimes when keeping a secret it was best to just play along, if you defended it too much, people would begin to suspect you had something to hide. It was going to be a long day.

**

After all the craziness of manifesting and learning that I was changing, things actually went back to normal pretty quickly. Discussion of my alter ego ended when nothing else happened that involved her, and the girls got tired of talking about the same few pictures that found their way onto the internet. I helped it along by finding other stories to talk about, like the Silver Ghost in Cincinnati and all the stuff she was getting into on tv. With stuff like that a mutant who was only known by a few photo's without even a name was small potatoes.

My skin stayed red, a few girls made jokes about my sunbathing in winter and artificial tanning lotions, but that was the worst of it. I could have forgotten that I was a mutant, except that my body was changing.

It wasn't very obvious, but my waist was getting bigger, my hips and butt a hair smaller, my bra became a little loose. And my shoes which had been just right started to pinch my toes. Just looking at me wouldn't show anything was wrong, but I knew. Every time I changed for gym class, had a shower, or got dressed beside Faith, I expected someone to point at my privates and scream, or possibly worse laugh.

I started having nightmares.

I'd be taken out of my class by the headmistress and brought to the gym, the teachers would stand around me telling the class how I was a freak, a monster, a liar. They'd rip my clothes off as they spoke and the entire school watched. Finally they rip off my underwear, my bra first, revealing a flat chest, then my panties, and I'd have a huge penis like you'd see in a porno hanging down. I always woke up as as soon as I saw the look of horror on my friends faces.

I became afraid of sleeping.

The school counselor insisted on seeing me in early December, when I almost fainted in class from exhaustion. When I told her I was having nightmares, but refused to tell her what they were, or what I was going through, she phoned my parents. Dad told her I was getting treated for a genetic disorder, refusing to go into details, but asked her to give me something to help me sleep. She was less than happy about that. When I fell asleep in her comfortable chair, she gave me a prescription for a mild sedative, that I was to take half an hour before lights out from the dorm head.

I still woke up in a cold sweat almost every morning, but at least I only had fragments of nightmares, I'd rather not even think about.

Keeping up the lie day and night at school was hard. The anger at my body for betraying me built up, feeling like a physical force hiding just under my skin. My muscles hummed with pent up energy, just begging to be freed. By the time most days were over, I'd run to the schools dance studio and practice ballet, jazz dancing or freestyle, anything to work off the energy, working herself almost to the point of collapse before staggering off to a shower and then homework. If I had a really bad day I'd practice my Krav Maga. I stopped that after two weeks when I practiced in the gym while the gymnastic squad was practicing on the other side. Apparently making the heavy punching bag the school keeps for the five or six students and teachers who actually use it, bounce when you punch it is a good way to freak people out.

I was sent back to the counselor to talk about my growing aggression. I didn't talk to her, she eventually stopped talking to me. I wasn't trying to be rude, but what could I tell her? My parents are superheroes, I was nearly killed by an insane cult, I'm turning into a boy. Yeah, those would go over well.

By the middle of December, my arms and legs, which had been smooth and soft looking with strong, graceful muscles underneath were getting definition and starting to build up more like a guys. This did nothing to help my mood.

And then my life got even better just in time for winter vacation.

**

Residence of Mr. And Mrs. Young, Edmonton, Alberta,
December 19th, 2007

I was shooting bolts of electricity in the basement range. It wasn't strictly legal, and if we tried to shoot guns in there the police could come for a visit, but we didn't shoot guns down there, so we were safe. I had a stun gun that had been modified by Uncle Herb to up the amps.

Not only was shooting good for making sure if I had to use it I wouldn't hit a bystander, but it was great stress relief. I love my friends, but going from being a normal girl, to mutant, to changing into a boy, to almost dying, and not being able to tell anyone about it was hard on the nerves. So I rolled up my sleeves, zapped myself with enough electricity to kill a normal, full grown man, and shot paper targets. I even managed to hit the stupid thing about once out of every five shots. How Dad did it on the fly, I have no idea.

Mom and Dad both came down as I was about to recharge. From the looks on their faces things were not good in Whoville. “What's up, Snowman has decided to declare war on Christmas again?” (Don't ask.)

“It's probably nothing,” Dad said, never a good sign. “But we want you to be extra careful for the next little while.”

“Why?”

“The Cult of the Blood Father is looking for you,” Mom said.

“WHAT?!”

Dad and Mom both moved in to hold my shoulders, I realized at that moment they both had two pairs of woolen gloves on. Dad kept talking. “The VHC raided most of their safehouses over the last two weeks, and was able to access almost every file they had. The few survivors who aren't in prison are trying to regroup the cult, one of their rallying points is you.”

“Don't worry honey. They have no idea who you are, and we've alerted the police and every nearby hero to watch out for suspicious activity. We've even passed on the word to some of the gangs and criminals who don't like end of the world groups to be on the look out. No one is going to be able to come into the city and set up shop without us knowing,” Mom assured me. “But we want you to be extra careful over Christmas.”

“You mean I'll be allowed outside sometimes?” I asked.

“Of course, we want you meeting your friends. And remember we have two students coming to stay with us. We thought they might be able to help you out a bit, and you could show them around the city.”

They had told me about it earlier in the week. A girl called Theresa, who'd stayed at my parents headquarters for a little over a month in the summer, with a strange looking GSD, was going to come by because she had nowhere else to go. My parents usually had one or two kids stay at our house or at their base, during the holidays depending on how human they looked. Apparently Theresa had a roommate with nowhere else to go to.

“Theresa looks like she's made out of dirt. Can she really go outside much?” I asked.

“She sent some pictures of herself, she has a type of fake skin that looks natural. So she won't get any odd looks. And her roommate looks baseline,” Dad explained. “You can take them out for Christmas shopping with your friends and maybe take them to a New Years Eve party if you guys get along together.”

I shrugged. The holidays didn't look so jolly with a death threat hanging over me.

Mom grabbed my hand. “Come upstairs, I think we need to give you a present early.”

We went up to the tree, which was surrounded by presents. There was a medium size box with teddy bear wrapping paper and an electric pink bow, obviously from Uncle Herb. Dad handed it to me. “We realize it's early, but Uncle Herb sent a message along with the news telling us to give it to you today.”

Uncle Herb was always making awesome toys for me, that were one of a kind, at least until he patented them and sold the rights to some company. I didn't quite shred the paper opening it up. Inside were two fancy metal bracelets and a matching black metallic belt. They looked stylish, even if the belt wouldn't go with half of my wardrobe.

“Cool, what do they do?” I asked, not seeing any instructions.

“Put them on and lets go to the workout room.

I slid on the jewelry and wrapped the belt around my waist. The workout room looked ordinary enough, until you looked at the equipment closely. Then you realized that the weight machine and other equipment was very sturdily built, usually the type you'd see with professional body builders. If you could see into the secret compartments hidden in the walls, you'd find the equipment that went into the tonnes range, and punching bags made of kevlar and filled with ball bearings. A set of hundred kilo free weights were set up already.

“Ok, according to Herb, to activate your gift you can either tap your bracelets together for a small charge, or both of them against the belt for a large one,” Dad told me.

Shrugging I tapped the bracelets together and it was like I'd drank five espresso's. Grabbing the weights I did about fifty arm curls to work off the charge. Mom and Dad smiled at the sight. Gingerly I tapped the bracelets against the belt, my skin felt like it was on fire. It took ten minutes of heavy lifting before I cooled off.

Breathing a sigh of relief and draining a bottle of cool water, I looked at the gifts. “Ok, these will be useful. How do I recharge them?”

Edmonton International Airport
December 20th, 2007

Dad and I waited at the arrival gate of the airport for Theresa and her friend Dakota. This year was going to be different then usual. Before the students we had visit wouldn't talk about their school, at least no more then the basics when I was around, so all I knew was that it was in the US, was for mutants and had things like a shooting range, workshops for super science projects, and security guards, which seemed pretty excessive to me. My school had security, but they were to protect the kids of high level officials, and they were mostly for show, one boy had told me when I was nine that the guards had power armour and explosives and other things, which I hadn't believed. Then my parents heard him talking about it and they'd moved him to their headquarters for the rest of the summer.

Mom had come on her own and was at the MCO station making sure the girls didn't have any trouble. We weren't worried that they'd be arrested but last summer a teenage mutant who was just passing through to his parents place in southern Alberta, and planned a short visit with Fly By and Prairie Sun, had been held up for over five hours being interrogated over every detail of his visit and his trip from Boston to Edmonton. By the time he was done his day was ruined, he was near tears and he'd been a bit of a wreck. Now unless they had to fight a supervillain they made sure to always have one of them there in costume to help out.

Everything seemed to be on track this time, and two girls, who matched the photo I'd been shown came walking out with their bags looking around for us. Dad waved to them and headed over with me in tow. Theresa gave him a big hug, and as I watched I realized that her skin looked almost real. It was a little too smooth and didn't wrinkle properly as she smiled, but if you didn't know about it or look too closely you'd say it was real, at worst a person would think she'd had botox. I turned away from them, feeling the old jealousy that someone else could hug Dad more freely than I could, and smiled at the new comer.

“Hi Dakota, I'm Estelle,” I said, holding out my hand.

She seemed a little surprised at the hand, but then took it with a look of relief. “Hey Estelle, you can just call me Kota.”

My Dad finally let go of Theresa, and turned on Kota. She tensed up a little when it looked like he was going to hug her, so he quickly changed it to a hand shake that enveloped her small hand. I took a second to get a good look at the girl, she was really pretty, with a heart shaped face, long hair that would have half of the kids at my school begging her for hair tips. My chest was bigger than hers, but not by much, and she was short, she'd had a perfect view of my nose. I decided Kota would have fit perfectly on the gymnastics team.

Before I could notice much more, I was embraced by Theresa. “Hi Theresa. Did you have a good trip?”

“It was great. Thank you for letting me come back, you guys were so nice last summer, I don't know what I would have done without you all,” she gushed.

I gently pried myself away and found a distraction for her. “Oh, there's my Mom!”

Mom came over in her civilian clothes, her uniform was in her backpack. There were a bunch of places in the back of the airport where a person could get changed unseen and appear again without any real risk of detection. Theresa ran and gave her a hug to.

“She really likes to hug people,” Kota said needlessly.

“I noticed.” We made our way out of the airport to my parents SUV. “What would you guys like to do?”

Kota just shrugged, Theresa started rattling off a long list of activities. She was still talking when we got into the vehicle. Kota finally managed to get a word in edgewise. “Theresa, we're both broke.”

“Yeah, but I can still go window shopping and looking around,” the girl said.

I watched as Kota turned to look out the window, for just a second the reflection seemed to show her looking lost and terrified, but then it was just bored. Deciding to change the topic, I did something I'd kind of wanted to do for years.

“So what was Whateley like?” I asked. I may not want to go to the school, but learning as much as I could about up to date information was only smart.

Theresa looked at my parents cautiously. “It's cool, most kids would be so jealous of everything we can do. It blows everything out of the water! It's too bad you can't come, you'd love it so much.”

“Actually, Estelle may be going there in the fall.” Dad said, while Mom kept her eyes on the road.

“Really?!” Theresa exclaimed. “You manifested. This is so cool! You'll have to join the cape squad because your parents are superheroes, they'll really want to rush you. But don't go with the Robins, they're total losers.”

Kota gave me a sympathetic smile, as her roommate went into a huge monologue about Whateley. Apparently there were supervillains learning there, one of whom was a crown princess, a cool rock band with a dinosaur guitar player, a giant robot, a crazy fairy who had a fashion club, another girl who could make green fairies, and a lot of other things that kind of got lost in the jumble. It made Everest seem boring, but saner, and safer.

This of course got my parents involved, talking about what it had been like when they were there. Kota and I sort of just faded into the background listening to them talk. I know I was overwhelmed by it all and Kota didn't seem to quite know what to say or if she wanted to say anything at all.

Finally we got home in the outskirts of the city. Both Theresa and Kota stared at the house. It was kind of surprising if you weren't used to people who pull in a few million dollars a year from endorsements, security contracts, speeches, and merchandise.

“Come on, I'll show you the guest rooms. Do you want to sleep in the same room or separately?” I asked, helping them with their luggage.

“Separate,” Kota said.

“Together!” Theresa said at the exact same time.

“Flip a coin?” I suggested.

Theresa touched Kota's arm. “No, I keep forgetting you didn't share a room with your sisters. We can have separate rooms.”

Kota smiled, which made her look even prettier, and gave her roommate a very quick hug. “Thanks D.”

With that settled I showed them their rooms, pointing out the tv room, library and computer room, and the exercise room which were all on the bottom floor. “Supper is in two hours, you both have a shower and a bathroom in your room. If you want a bath, there's a full bathroom with everything you need at the end of the hall. My room and my parents room are upstairs at the top of the stairs, don't hesitate to ask us if you need something. The third floor is invite only, sorry.”

They thanked me and after making sure they didn't need anything I went to my room and studied myself in the mirror in just my underwear. I had a better figure then Theresa, who was short and stocky, you'd never mistake her for a boy, but she looked like a body builder who could bend solid metal. Looking at my arms, I realized I was just starting to get the first hint of definition like hers. It wasn't as bad as I thought it was, but it was still a change I didn't want. My hand rubbed my smooth chin, trying to feel if I'd started growing a beard yet. After twenty minutes I had to admit even to myself that I was still a proper girl there.

I tried to picture myself looking like Kota. She was short only about 158cm (5.2ft), but her body was perfect. Ok, I liked that I had more curves than she did, but she was beautiful. If I had to be a mutant, why couldn't I be like her? Why did everything that happened, everyone I met, have to shove it in my face how much it sucked to be me?

Sitting down in my big comfy chair with my stuffed animals around me, I looked out over the snow covered prairies. Satisfied that I was as comfortable as I was going to get, I started to cry.

**

When supper rolled around, I looked ok. A bit of makeup and eye drops hid my puffy red eyes, so in my warm, knee length red sweater dress, with comfy leggings and a rose hair piece, I looked like a hottie. I put the bracelets and the belt on, because it did look really good especially against the vibrant red fabric.

Mom and Dad were both cooking in the kitchen, so I went to get the guests. Theresa opened her door with a yawn. Her skin was the colour of really healthy, damp soil, the straw blonde hair looked out of place, looking at her made you think she should fall apart into a pile of dirt at any moment, or at least be sticky and dirty. But her white shorts and tank top were spotless.

“Dinner time,” I said as cheerfully as possible.

“Do I have to dress up as nicely as you?” she asked.

“Nope. Just as long as they're clean you're good.”

She gave a relieved grin. “Give me five minutes.”

Kota was next. She hadn't been asleep, in fact it looked like she hadn't done much of anything except change her clothes, into baggy jeans and a sweatshirt. “Suppers ready,” I told her.

“Thanks.” She stepped into the hallway with me to way for Theresa.

“Why did you call Theresa, D, earlier?” I asked.

She shrugged and looked at her feet. “Her codename is Earths Daughter, she hated E.D., said it sounded like her grandmother, so I call her D.”

“My codename is Target.”

She looked at me from the corner of her eye.

“I have to get a jolt of energy before I can use my power. When I manifested, I was shot by some electrical weapons and then was put in the middle of a magic spell. It seemed like a good name at the time,” I explained lamely.

“Traceur,” she said.

“What?”

“My codename, it's Traceur.”

“Cool name,” I said, since my Mom was in Parkour, I had heard the word even if I couldn't remember what it meant.

The awkward conversation was cut short when Theresa came out in a pretty, light pink dress. “We weren't sure what you guys would like, so we have hamburgers and hot dogs with lots of toppings, some frozen pizzas, juice and pop, and for desert a chocolate cake and apple pie.”

“Wow! it's going to be just like eating at Crystal Hall isn't it Kota?” Theresa gushed.

Kota didn't say anything, but she was smiling hungrily, so I took it as a good sign. The smile got wider when we got to the dining room and the large table was almost overflowing with food. It wasn't fancy but it was well done. Mom, Dad, and I all loaded our plates down, while Kota and Theresa ate more normal amounts.

“I should have the day off tomorrow, so where and what do you girls want to do?” Mom asked.

“I don't know, Mrs. Young. I don't really have any money, so I guess just sitting around the house and relaxing would be nice,” Kota said, blushing as she did.

Dad put down his burger and with a big grin pulled two cards from his pocket. “Here you are, this will solve the money problem while you're here.”

They took the prepaid credit cards from my Dad looking at him and Mom with astonishment. “You're serious?” Theresa squealed.

“We are,” Mom answered. “There is one thousand dollars on each, we hope you use them responsibly.”

There was just enough time for Mom and Dad to move away from the table, before Theresa tried her best to hug them to death. Kota started eating her hamburger again, hiding her face. From my seat I saw some tears falling onto her plate.

**

We went to bed early that night after watching a couple of movies. We were going to have a busy day tomorrow of shopping, getting our hair styled, manicures and pedicures, and for Koda and I facials, while Mom and Theresa got massages. With her GSD, a facial would have forced Theresa to take off her fake skin, where a gentle massage would be ok. And I had no desire to have hands roaming over my body, Koda seemed to feel the same way. It actually worked out pretty well.

I took my sleeping pills, not wanting to risk the nightmares.

**

Edmonton, Alberta,
December 21st, 2007

Theresa and I seemed to have more fun shopping for clothes then Kota did. We first when shoe shopping, and while I got a pair of cute pink boots, and Theresa went with a black that matched her real skin, Kota just rolled her eyes and finally grabbed a pair of warm hiking boots that looked like they could be used to kick a bear to death.

Clothes shopping went about the same. Theresa and I tried dozens of different looks. I was leaning towards looser clothes, skirts, dresses, baggy but cute tops, while Theresa wanted skin tight stuff to show off her body. Kota just sat back and watched looking bored and nervous. While her friend went to try on another outfit, I sat down beside the tomboy.

“What's up?” I asked.

She gave one of her many shrugs. “Nothing. I just think this is really boring.”

I looked at her baggy, ragged blue jeans, and the ratty old winter army jacket that was well used and more patches than original material. “Ok, but how about you try on a few new clothes, just some jeans and maybe a jacket.”

“What's wrong with my clothes?”

“Nothing, but having some new clothes that aren't falling apart might be good.”

Kota snorted in disgust. “Than I should go to the fucking kids section. Those are the only clothes that will fit me.”

“You're not much smaller then me,” I insisted. “I can help you find some things that will fit.”

“Yeah, I really want to look all girly. Fuck no.”

The anger that seemed to be a part of me now surged inside me. “What's wrong with being girly?!”

Kota stood up and started walking away. “Look I don't want to get into an argument. You two have fun, I'll be at the game store, picking up a Wii, and a couple of games. Come get me when it's time for the oh so fun spa thing.”

While I was still trying to figure out what was going on Theresa came out wearing a nice pair of pants and top. “Where's Kota going?”

“Off to buy video games. Is she always a jerk?” I asked.

“C'mon, she just doesn't know how to deal with people much. Give her some space and you'll see that she's actually pretty nice.”

I gave her a look, letting her know I thought she was crazy.

“Believe me, she's pretty nice,” Theresa insisted. “She helped me get my boyfriend.”

“You're kidding me?”

“No way. She saw me looking at Timothy with puppy dog eyes, and then got me a date with him,” she swore. “Now how do I look in this?”

**

After a steak lunch, we went to the spa. Theresa was nervous at first, but Mom was a regular and knew the owner pretty well, so Theresa got an attendant who was nice and wouldn't say anything about her even with her odd skin. The two started talking about styles and colours that would match her face and go with her usual clothes. She and Mom took off to get their massage while Kota and I went for our facials.

Kota looked around like she'd never seen the inside of a spa before. When the attendant looked over her face, commenting on her beautiful skin, she actually grimaced like it was an insult. I sat back and enjoyed the steam bath, the exfoliation and face massage. Kota kept fidgeting until the woman started to massage her face, then she actually began to calm down. I got into a nice conversation with my attendant, but whenever we tried to get Kota talking, she answered with single words, and eventually just grunts.

Then they put the facial mask on, and began massaging our scalps. I was quite willing to sit back, relaxing to the nice tingling on my skin and listen to the soothing music, but Kota finally felt like talking.

“What are we doing here?” she demanded suddenly.

“Getting a facial,” I said.

“What for? What is the point of all of this?”

I started counting off on my fingers. “It feels good. It's good for your skin. It's relaxing. It gets rid of dead skin and pimples.”

“This is s-boring.”

“Hey you could have backed out yesterday, or even this morning. Why don't you stop playing the tough girl and actually try to relax with something other than a video game?” I demanded.

“At least with a video game I'm doing something.”

“Oh yes, killing monsters is SSSOOOO important!”

“It's better than making yourself look like a slut for some guy,” she shouted.

The attendant tried to keep me down, while the other one tried to get Kota to calm down. I pushed her out of the way as I sat up. “Just because I want to look good doesn't make me a slut, you bitch!”

“That's all you care about dressing up and looking pretty. Don't you have anything important in your life?” Kota asked, sitting up to face me.

“Oh so I should wear clothes that are falling apart just so I can act like I don't care?” I could feel energy humming in my hands. I thought sparks would start flying any second.

Kota was about to say something right back at me, when Mom came out, still wearing her sunglasses, and a robe. “What is going on here?” she demanded.

Kota and I both started yelling at each other. Finally Mom grabbed my arm and marched me away from the girl. We quickly washed our faces while Mom and Theresa got dressed and were in the car ten minutes later heading back home. I sat in the front and made sure not to look at Kota, sparks were jumping between my fingers, and I knew if I looked at the girl I'd be ready to fry her.

Mom sat Kota and I down in the tv room while Theresa went to put her clothes away and give us a bit of privacy. She had taken her sunglasses off letting us see her violet eyes that didn't really look like eyes at all, a sure sign that she was upset.

“What happened? Kota first,” she said.

The girl stared at her lap. “I just didn't like all the clothes shopping and stuff,” she mumbled.

“So you get to call me a slut?” I demanded still angry with her.

Kota didn't answer. Mom raised her hand to stop me before I said anything else. “Kota, I don't know what you've gone through. You should have told us that you didn't want to do all of those things, we would have found something else that we could have done. But that doesn't give you the right to insult Estelle like that.”

The girl seemed to shrink down into her baggy shirt, refusing to look at anyone.

Mom sighed as the girl shut down. “All right, think about what you'd like to do tomorrow, and we'll see if we can do it. For now, go to your room and do something quietly in there, or you can talk with Theresa. The Wii, will stay in its box until Christmas morning. Estelle come on, you can help with supper.”

I followed Mom to the kitchen and started pulling out things for a salad, while she took out the pork chops that had been marinating in apple sauce, BBQ sauce and sweet peppers all day. As I sliced up the lettuce letting out some of my frustration, I started talking.

“It's not fair,” I said.

Mom turned to look at me. “What isn't, honey?”

“She's so pretty, and she doesn't care at all. It's like she hates being a girl.” The knife slashed the lettuce without any rhyme or reason, butchering the leaves.

“What do you mean?”

“I don't know,” I cried. “She just doesn't seem to want to talk about anything, or do anything except play video games. And whenever she looked at me today it was so mean, like I was doing something wrong wanting to look pretty. Why can't I stay a girl?!” I almost screamed, sliding to the floor.

She threw on a pair of oven mitts and knelt down to hug me. “It's going to be ok, Estelle. No matter what happens, we'll be here for you. You don't have to go through this alone.”

“I don't want to go through it all.”

Theresa came in, not seeing us on the ground until she was at the cupboard getting two glasses. She looked nervously at Mom and I, as I sobbed. “Um, I'm just... getting drinks. Is, is there anything I can do?”

Mom gave her a weak smile. “No, dear. But thanks for asking.”

“Do you have GSD?” the girl asked.

I nodded my head, rubbing my nose on my sleeve. I'd rather grow scales, fur, claws, spikes, almost anything. At least I'd still be me.

She knelt down. “It's not too bad once it's all done. It's scary at first, but you get used to it and you might get lucky and look really beautiful once it's over. I have a friend in Whitman who has really soft fur and looks a little like a beautiful deer.”

“I won't be pretty. I'm going to be big and ugly,” I told her.

“You won't know until its all done. And even if you are, you'll have friends. You'll be in Whitman, I can help you meet all sorts of nice girls who've gone through the same thing.” She gave me a hug, as if that would make it all better.

I couldn't tell her I wouldn't be in Whitman. I wouldn't be with any girls, I'd be with the boys, farting, and killing monsters and zombies in video games and staring stupidly at girls, and measuring penis', and doing stupid guy things. I started crying harder.

“Can you tell Kota, supper is going to be late tonight?” Mom asked. “You can fix up some snacks if you're hungry.”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Young.”

Mom carried me up to my bed and tucked me in. She left for a moment to get a damp wash cloth, I fell asleep listening to her singing me lullabies as she wiped my tears away.

**

“Hey princess, are you hungry?” Dad asked, shaking me awake.

My stomach growled. “Yeah,” I mumbled.

“Can you come downstairs, or should I fix you up a tray and bring it up here?”

I really wanted to be alone, but I had to face things head on. “Thanks Dad, I'll be down in a minute.”

It actually took five minutes to put in some eye drops, change my wrinkled clothes and fix my hair. And another few minutes to work up the courage to walk down the stairs. I felt like a fraud. I was turning into a boy, why didn't I just start dressing up like Kota and get it over with? What type of name was Dakota anyways?

When I got downstairs, Kota was putting the last of the silverware on the table. She was wearing a baggy t-shirt that looked about two sizes too big and as if it had come out of a donation box, along with her usual jeans that were faded and badly patched. With just a change of clothes, not even an expensive change, she could look great, why did she insist on dressing like a bum?

Theresa came out with the pork chops, followed by Mom and Dad with the salad, mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables. I took my seat, and began filling up my plate. Theresa looked at me with new found sympathy, Kota kept her eyes down.

“So... what do you girls want to do tomorrow? I was thinking we could show you the headquarters downtown,” Dad said trying to break the silence.

“I'd really like to see the headquarters again. Kota, you have to see their workout room, they even have a mini-parkour room set up where you can run on the ceiling,” Theresa said.

Mom perked up. “You like parkour?”

Kota nodded.

“We should run together tomorrow. It's too cold and slippery to do a real run, but the jungle gym has some challenging parts to make up for the lack of size.”

She actually smiled and didn't look like it was hurting her. “Ok. Thanks Mrs. Young.”

“And what about you two?” Dad turned to Theresa and I.

“We never did get our haircut or nails done, could we do that?” I asked.

Theresa's face lit up at the suggestion. Dad gave a relieved smiled. “Sure, I'll take you both in tomorrow.”

I thought I caught Kota rolling her eyes. My fork cracked the plate as I threw it down. “What the HELL is your problem?!”

“Nothing at all,” Kota said looking startled.

A tiny part of my mind said I might be overreacting, the rest of me didn't care. “You've been looking down at me and rolling your eyes all day today! What have I done to you?”

“I just don't like dressing up and things. Is that a fucking crime?!” Kota yelled back, as Mom and Dad tried to bring some order back to the meal.

“Fine, you don't have to like it! Some of us like to, and you have no idea how lucky you are!”

She got to her feet, tipping the chair over. “LUCKY! You think I'm lucky? FUCK YOU! You don't know anything about me!”

“I know you get to stay a girl!”

Dad grabbed Kota before she could launch herself at me, Mom put her arms around me holding me back. I saw the hatred on her face as she looked at me. “Why did I ever come here, to your perfect home and your perfect life? I should just go back to Whateley!”

“PERFECT!” I screeched. What the hell did she know? My life wasn't perfect and it never had been, now it was just getting worse. “You think I have it perfect! I'm turning into a goddamn boy. I'm going to be a fucking freak! My friends won't even recognize me by the summer!”

Her face went slack. “Y-you're turning into a boy?”

My knees let go and I was crying before I hit the floor.

Dad let go of Kota, who seemed too stunned to do anything. “I-I thought I was the only one.”

“You used to be a boy?” Mom asked catching on more quickly then the rest of us.

Kota turned white, before Dad could do anything she'd run out of the dining room heading for the front door. Mom took off after her.

“She never told me,” Theresa said in amazement.

Edmonton, Alberta,
December 21st, 2006
Dakota Morgan

"Fine, you don't have to like it! But some of us like to, and you have no idea how lucky you are!"

That was the final straw. I'd been putting up with this prissy little girly girl's attitude all day long, but now she'd crossed the line. I bolted up from my chair, not even caring that I knocked it over in the process.

"LUCKY! You think I'm lucky? FUCK YOU! You don't know anything about me!"

I poured all my frustration into those words, every ounce of venom that I could muster, and it still wasn't enough. It never would be, not since my voice had betrayed me like the rest of my body. There was just no way for such a feminine sound to convey the kind of menace I intended, and that fact only added to the dagger in my gut. I never asked for this. I never wanted anything that had happened to me in the last two months since I manifested.

"I know you get to stay a girl!"

In that moment I just reacted. All I'd clearly heard was "you" and "girl," but that was precisely what I didn't want to hear. I shifted my weight beneath me in preparation to pounce. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to vent my frustrations on this spoiled little brat who dared to accuse me of being lucky, just like everyone at Whateley, but I didn't get the chance. Her dad was upon me even as I tried to leap at her, and he was more than strong enough to hold me back.

Damn it! Why did my mutation have to leave me so helpless? I couldn't fight, I couldn't do anything, except glare, and try to show her everyone else just how much it hurt. I was beyond caring anymore, I knew they didn't, so why should I? "Why did I ever come here, to your perfect home and your perfect life? I should just go back to Whateley!" There at least I could find a way to end the pain.

"PERFECT? You think I have it perfect? I'm turning into a goddamn BOY! I'm going to be a fucking freak! My friends won't even recognize me by summer!"

The bottom dropped out of my stomach as her words penetrated my own anger and finally sunk in. I felt my face go slack for a moment. Was she saying...

"Y-you're turning into a boy?" I couldn't help the stutter in my voice as I finally managed to get the words out.

Estelle responded in the worst way I could imagine. She didn't deny it or acknowledge it. She simply crumpled to her knees with a look of anguish on her face that I'd only ever seen the rival of in a mirror.

Estelle's dad let go of me as my shoulders sagged. The burning anger had completely fizzled out, only to be replaced by a dull ache. An ache prompted by a single undeniable fact.

She was like me.

"I...I thought I was the only one..."

The words slipped from my mouth before I could stop them, and I knew it was too late. Mr. Young and Theresa both gave me questioning looks, but I looked on in horror as Mrs. Young's eyes widened in sudden realization.

"You used to be a boy?" came the expected, inevitable, and entirely unwanted question as my heart skipped a beat and I felt all of the blood drain from my face.

I wasn't ready for this, and would never be ready for it. I'd been hiding from it since before I'd gotten to Whateley, ever since my brothers...

I ducked away from Mr. Young's reach before he could even react, and then I bolted. Through the dining room doorway, down the hall into the living room, a guided leap over the couch and a roll across the coffee table to bringing me back to my feet still running. It couldn't have taken more than six seconds to get from the table to the front door, and only a second longer to get it open.

The bitter cold slammed into me, but I didn't care. Without a moment's hesitation, I raced out into the harsh Canadian winter.

***
I don't know how long I ran. Even before I manifested I had been a runner, and part of the best junior high cross country team around, back home in Chicago. In spite of everything that my manifestation had stolen from me, running wasn't one of them. In fact, since my change I could now run harder, faster, and longer than ever, as if that was some small consolation for everything else.

So I ran, just like I'd run so many times before since escaping my former home, heedless of the freezing temperatures and the thick blanket of snow all around. Even though my t-shirt and jeans provided little protection from the cold, I wasn't worried about it. Sure it was uncomfortable, but it wasn't like I could get sick or succumb to frostbite or hypothermia; my mutation made sure of that, just as surely as it made sure I was stuck in this nightmare. I hadn't frozen sleeping in the streets of Chicago, or at Whateley, even when my body had been broken, I wouldn't freeze now. Who would have thought that regeneration could be such a curse?

As I ran down the icy streets I couldn't help but think back, even though I didn't want to. Who in their right mind would want to relive the experience of having their own body betray them? I remembered the initial shock of waking up to discover that my green eyes had turned silvery grey, that my sandy colored hair was turning black at the roots. I remembered the following days of agonizing changes, at once so slow and gradual seeming and yet so fast and undeniable. The loss of height had been a big blow, as I shrank from nearly 5'7" down to my current 5'2". And the budding breasts had been just as bad, as they confirmed what was happening to me in a way that the thinning waist, widening hips, and shifting face just couldn't quite compare with. My hair growing out to be long and effortlessly luscious had just been the nail in the coffin, especially when I tried cutting it only to find that it wouldn't stay cut. It always grew right back out within a matter of hours, always stopping just above my now rounded butt. The power testers at Whateley had told me that was because my regen power was keeping me in line with an unusually specific BIT.

My parents had locked me in my room when I couldn't hide the change, too ashamed of me to risk being embarrassed in public. Days of hunger, fear, my brothers making me earn more food through favours. I ran harder, trying to escape the memories.

I didn't fight back the tears, even as they froze, I'd learned they would come anyways. I hated the fact that my body had betrayed me, that it had decided all on its own that I should be pretty little girl and had even given me powers that made sure I stayed that way. With my BIT and level four regen, there was absolutely ZERO chance that I would ever be or even look like a guy again. I'd been hoping, praying that there would be something to make me think there was something, anything to look forward to in my life. I'd given myself that one last chance. Like everything else I hadn't just been ignored, my whole situation had been shoved right back into my face.

These past two days with Estelle and her family had proven that without a shadow of a doubt I had nothing left. My old life was destroyed, and any hope of a new one would only hurt me more.

Why did Estelle have to be so happy with being girly? With shopping for clothes and looking pretty? Even knowing what I now did, that she was facing a situation similar to mine, I still couldn't bring myself to feel any sympathy for her. Why should I? So she was trying to have a last hurrah in the world of girlhood? She was upset that her friends won't recognize her in a few months?

HAH!!! I'd had my entire life, my friends, my family, my very manhood all ripped away from me in a matter of WEEKS! I'd been rejected, scorned, VIOLATED by the very people who should have helped me. Had Wing Nut of the Windy City Guardians not found me after I ran away from it all, I'd still be wandering homeless in the streets of Chicago, without even a legal identity to call my own. I wished that he had. Better to face the hunger, cold and thugs by myself than have everyone tell me how lucky I was, how beautiful I was.

I never had the chance for a last hurrah, so why should she get one? Why did she have a loving and supportive family, parents who were obviously going to great lengths to help her through all of this, while I was stuck with a family that first was ashamed of me, then abused me, and then ultimately rejected my very existence?

How was that supposed to be FAIR?

"KOTA, WATCH OUT!"

The shout came from behind me, and shook me out of my daze just a moment too late. The car that I'd almost stepped out in front of had taken as little notice of me as I had of it, and it was traveling down the road far faster than it reasonably should have been given the icy conditions. I reacted instinctively, by trying to pivot around and come to a quick stop, but the ice on the ground caused my footing to slip and I continued forward, slamming into the side of the vehicle as it continued on its merry way without so much as a second glance to see what had just hit it. The impact, combined with the slick ground beneath me, sent me crashing to the ground in pain; with scrapes and would be bruises covering much of my body. The worst part was the distinct crack that I heard followed by an intense pain shooting up my leg from might left ankle.

"GOD DAMN IT!" I shouted to the world, not even caring anymore as I rolled over and tried to sit up. Why had I bothered dodging? It would have been better if it had hit me. A quick glance told me that my ankle was definitely broken, with my foot pointing off in an odd angle. But before I could do any further damage assessment I found a large heavy coat and thick blanket being thrown over my shoulders.

"Shhhh, calm down, Kota, I'm here." The woman best known to the world as Prairie Sun appeared at my side, her voice soothing and gentle. It felt like a knife was digging into my soul. Why couldn't my own mother have treated me like this? Why was I being looked after by a complete stranger who had her own child to look after, when my own mother had not only turned a blind eye to my pain but had allowed...

"Get away from me!" I shouted angrily as fresh tears came to my eyes. I tried to push her away, to make her leave me alone so that I could crawl away and die, maybe then the pain would stop. "Go take care of Estelle! She obviously needs you more than I do!"

"Kota! I can help you more!" she practically shouted as she grabbed my shoulders and gave me a firm shake. With her strength that was all it took to take the fight right out of me, and then my teary eyes were looking up to meet her own. The pain that I saw reflected there managed to slip past my own, surprising me as much as her grip did. "I know you won't understand this, but I physically CAN'T give my daughter the kind of help she needs right now. I can't hold her tight and tell her that everything will be alright, the way I wish I could."

"So what?" I replied angrily, "You can't help your daughter for some reason, so now you're going to make yourself feel better by trying to help me?" I winced in pain for a moment as my ankle snapped itself back into alignment, then tried to shake her hands off and push her away again. "What if I don't want your help? Just let me go. LET ME GO!" I screamed, uselessly trying to pry myself out of her arms.

Her grip remained firm but gentle.

"Kota, you've been running for over an hour in sub-zero weather. You're hurting so badly right now that you didn't even notice a speeding car that would have plowed right into you if I hadn't called out a warning. You NEED help right now."

"I don't want your help! I don't want anyone! Leave me alone!"

"KOTA!" she said again firmly, taking her hands from my shoulders only to place them on the sides of my face so that I couldn't turn away from her gaze. "Listen to me. Steve and I did some digging to find out about you when Theresa asked if you could come from Christmas. We got in touch with the Windy City Guardians, and they sent us your file."

My eyes widened in shock at that. While I hadn't told Wing Nut and the others any specific details, I had to give them some reason why I was apparently a young female runaway, and why I didn't want to tell them who my family was. So I'd told them that one small part of the truth. Prairie Sun, no Mrs. Young, merely gave a sad, knowing nod in response to my expression.

"Yes, sweetie, I know what happened to you. But I didn't know how bad it really was." She gave me a look that was at once both pleading and apologetic. "I can't even begin to understand what you're going through and feeling right now, but I AM here for you. You don't have to face this alone any longer."

That did it, her holding me, the way she looked at me, telling me that she was there for me, the fact that she had followed me through the snow and was sitting on the ice beside me, even as I screamed and yelled at her, it managed to make a small crack in the wall I'd built up. I caved. The last bit of fight drained out of me as I collapsed into her arms, a fresh wave of tears pouring from my eyes as I clung to her. And as good as her word, Mrs. Young simply held me tight and hugged me close.

Before that moment, I hadn't realized just how much I needed it...

**

The coffee shop was nearly empty when we stepped through the door. There were two clerks behind the counter, a family of four gathered around a fake fireplace in the lounge area, and one older man who looked like a trucker, seated in a corner and seemed to be partaking of a bowl of warm chili. The clerks greeted us warmly as we came inside from under the rapidly darkening sky. If either of them noticed my bloodshot eyes, my torn jeans, or just my generally ragged and disheveled appearance then they hid it very well.

After what seemed like an eternity of my shedding tears on Mrs. Young's shoulder, the superheroine in disguise had decided it was time to get someplace warm so that we could talk. And considering that an evening snowfall was just starting, I'd quite readily agreed. So she'd quickly pulled me to my feet and hugged me close as she guided us to a Tim Hortons just a little further up the road.

I decided I liked the place, and not just because it was warm. There was just an appealing feel to it that I couldn't quite explain, resting somewhere between the comfort of home and the relaxing air of a popular public hangout, even as empty as it currently was.

And the smells where just heavenly! While I'd never been a big fan of the drink itself, the smell of fresh brewed coffee had always appealed to me, and this place had that in spades. Not to mention the sweetness of fresh baked goods and a more rustic scent that I suspected was related to the trucker's chili. As I breathed it all in I was suddenly reminded in the worst way possible that I hadn't finished dinner, that I'd been running for over an hour, and that my body had expended a fair bit of energy healing itself from my encounter with the car.

To put it bluntly, my stomach chose that exact moment to rumble. Loudly.

Mrs. Young only chuckled as my cheeks flushed in embarrassment, then she gave me another reassuring hug. I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel good. Then she gently lifted my chin so I could see her warm smile, and I noticed she'd put her sunglasses back on.

"Go ahead and find a seat and get comfortable," she told me softly, "I'll get you some hot soup and Timbits to go along with our coffee. How do you like yours?"

I tried not to groan, I honestly did. I knew better than to be picky about someone else's show of kindness. But apparently she could see the misgivings in my face because she immediately backpedaled.

"Ah, not a coffee drinker. I suppose I should have asked that first. How about hot chocolate than?"

That was much better, a fact which I assured her of with a nod before she headed up to the counter to order while I made my way over to cozy corner booth on the opposite side of the shop from the few other patrons. I quietly slipped into the booth and let out a sigh as I gazed out the window at the now steadily falling snow, pulling the heavy wool blanket that was still wrapped around my shoulders even tighter. I decided that this felt good. It felt safe, something I hadn't truly felt in far too long, even considering the relative safety of Whateley.

Once I'd decided that, my brain decided it could afford the luxury of wondering what exactly Timbits were.

Fortunately I didn't have to wait long to get my answer, as Mrs. Young soon joined me with the first part of our order in tow. Apparently Timbits are just donut holes with good branding, though the fact that these were honey dipped did merit some extra points in my book. Mrs. Young had requested a large order of the popular treat, as well as two large bowls of steaming French Onion soup that smelled absolutely delicious.

The next several minutes were thankfully devoid of conversation, as I eagerly set about the task of calming my stomach's ravenous desire. By the time Mrs. Young was called up to the counter to retrieve our hot beverages, I had almost finished with my bowl of soup and had already made a significant dent in the Timbits as well. When she returned to the table with our two steaming mugs, she pushed the second bowl of soup in my direction. I tried to refuse, to say that I really didn't need it, but the stern gaze she cast my way was more than enough quell that objection. I blushed rather sheepishly as I accepted the second bowl. While I had to admit that I WAS in fact still hungry, I couldn't help feeling a bit guilty that she wasn't eating anything but a few of the Timbits herself.

After several more minutes of eating, this time with rather less gusto and a more subdued atmosphere, my stomach was finally satisfied. With the soup bowls set aside, only a few of the honey coated pastries remaining, and my somewhat cooled but still warm hot chocolate in hand, there was no good reason for me to avoid the conversation any longer. I looked up to meet Mrs. Young's gaze, seeing that she was worried yet patient and resolved. She wasn't in any hurry to rush me, and that sentiment was both comforting and yet somehow daunting. I sighed and gave her a resigned nod.

"Okay. I guess I'm ready to talk." The words themselves felt heavy as they rolled off of my tongue.

Mrs. Young responded by reaching across the table and gently grasping one of my hands while giving me a warm smile.

"Thank you, Kota. I'm glad to hear you say that." She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze before continuing. "But before we start, I want to lay down a couple of ground rules."

That surprised me, though I hesitated only a moment before nodding for her to continue.

"First, while I want you to talk to me, I won't force you to. This time is for you, so take as much as you need." She paused for a moment to give me a sly grin. "I even have two thousand dollars with the manager's name on it, in case we need him to keep the place open overnight."

I'm glad I didn't have any hot chocolate in my mouth at that point. It would have made a mess when my mouth dropped open. Would she really do that? Just to help me?

As if she could read my mind, she gave me a gentle nod of reassurance and another soft squeeze of my hand. I couldn't keep my eyes from misting again as I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded my own understanding.

"Good," she practically whispered back, "and the second rule is related to the first. If at any point you feel that you simply cannot continue, that just taking some time won't be enough to get you through it, then all you have to do is tell me and we will stop, no further questions asked. My only request if that becomes the case is that you agree to try again at a later date. Will that work for you?"

The lump was back, and I was forced to swallow it again. Not only was this woman telling me that I could take as much time as I needed, even if it cost her more money then I'd ever had, she was also telling me that it was okay if I wanted to walk away, that she wouldn't be upset if I couldn't handle it just yet. And oddly enough, the simple fact that she was giving me that choice seemed to lighten the load a bit and make it all just a little bit easier to face. With a deep breath, and blinking back the tears in my eyes, I gave her another nod, this one more firm than the last.

"What do you want to know?" I'm proud to say that my voice didn't shake at that point, though a trained ear might have still detected the nervous tension that it carried along.

"Well, I've already mentioned that I've read your file from the WCG, and given the revelation that you let slip following my daughter's outburst at dinner I think I have a good idea of what you've been through. However..." She paused and gave me a gravely serious look. "...I think you and I both know that there are still plenty of details I'm not aware of, and which have had a large impact on you." Now she clasped my hand in both of hers. "So I want YOU to tell me what happened. As much as you can, step by step, in your own words. As wrong as it was, as much as it hurts, and as much as you want to hide from it and wish it never happened, I think you NEED to do this. You need to acknowledge the wrongdoing and the hurt to yourself more than to me, not so you can dwell on it, but so you can stop letting it control you." She captured my eyes with hers again. "Can you do that for me?"

To this day, I don't know if it was the warmth of her hands on mine, or the sincerity of her words, or just the naked compassion that was evident on her face and in her voice, but somehow I found the strength to nod and open my mouth to speak.

I started with everything that had crossed my mind while I was running. I told her about waking up with eyes that weren't my own. I told her about my lost height and my budding breasts. I told her of how my socialite parents had been ashamed when they first realized that I was a mutant. I told her about their stubborn denial when it became all too obvious how I was changing and then they'd locked me away. And I started to tell her about my brothers...but I couldn't.

I'd hit a wall, and I couldn't bring myself to say it, no matter how hard I tried. I would open my mouth but nothing would come out, and the frustration of that caused the tears I'd been managing to hold back to start flowing again. God I felt like such a weakling. I couldn't bring myself to say a few simple words, and now here I was getting weepy about it.

At that point Mrs. Young stood up from her seat on the other side of the booth and came over next to me, wrapping me in her fiercest embrace yet.

"It's okay, Kota. We can stop if you need to."

I shook my head fiercely at that. Now that I'd decided I wanted to say it, I HAD to get it out somehow. I couldn't stop here and let it get the best of me. If only I could convince my mouth to work properly. It seemed ridiculous that the one thing I couldn't bring myself to admit was the very thing that she already knew before I'd even met her.

"Well okay then, just take your time. There's no rush. Just remember that they can't hurt you anymore. They're long gone from your life, through their own actions, not yours. And even if they weren't, there's no way that I would ever let them hurt you again." She took my hand in hers again as she squeezed me tight against her. And that was all it took to break down the wall.

"They RAPED me," I finally managed to get out, and just like that the floodgates were opened. "It was Halloween, about three weeks from when I'd first started changing. By then the change was done, so they took me, as their new little sister, to a salon. They got my new hair styled and paid for my first ever experience with makeup. They dressed me up in a girly princess costume. They treated me nicely, getting me a nice lunch and supper after days of eating cereal and toast. They acted like I was special, not their brother but at least their sister. Then they took me home.They made me do things to them that I'd only seen on the net and never done, I couldn't even imagined doing them for someone else. And after that they each...they each..."

"They each went all the way with you, didn't they?" The tone of her voice told me that she already knew the answer. She was just trying to help me admit it.

"Yes." The one word felt to me that it had all the weight of the world contained within it. "First Jonathan, then Neil, then Hector. Oldest to youngest, as if it really mattered who went first."

I pulled away from Mrs. Young's embrace for a moment so that I could look up into her face before I continued. I glimpsed her eyes under the glasses, they reflected the pain that was tearing me apart.

"My own brothers, who I had always adored and looked up to while growing up, who I wanted to be like, refused to see me as their little... sibling. They told me to my face that their little brother was dead, and that I was just a pretty little toy that had taken his place. A pretty toy that they could use and abuse as much as they wanted because legally, I didn't exist."

I paused for just a moment, my eyes still meeting hers as they now flashed with a barely contained fire. Then I said perhaps the hardest words yet.

"I don't want to be a pretty little toy..."

Prairie Sun's response was immediate as she pulled me close and held me firmly while I cried. I could feel her own warm tears flowing against the top of my head.

"No, Kota, don't you EVER think that," came her firm response as she continued to hold me tight. "Don't you EVER think that you're just somebody's plaything."

She released her hold on me and gently pushed me back just so that she could take my face in her hands again, as she'd done out on roadside to ensure that I met her gaze.

"You are a PERSON, Kota, and don't ever let anyone convince you otherwise. You're a human being, and apparently a damn sight better an example of such than the so-called family that raised you. Don't let what they've done to you define you any longer." And with that she placed a firm but gentle kiss right on my forehead. It was a gesture that I'd never received before, and it set me off again.

I leaned in again and wrapped my arms around her, holding on just as tightly as she was holding me. And yes, I cried. You would think that I'd be out of tears by now with all the crying I'd already done, but apparently that wasn't the case. Probably a regenerator thing.

But whatever the reason, I didn't care. I didn't even care that I was being "girly" in that moment. Here was a woman who genuinely cared about me in a way that even my own mother hadn't shown me, and that was all that mattered.

***
Once that bout of crying was over the words flowed much easier. I told Mrs. Young about running away after three days in my brothers' hands, with my parents idly standing by and doing nothing. I told her about being found by Wing Nut and identified as yet another newly manifested mutant fleeing a home that had turned hostile. I explained how I'd been admitted to Whateley late on a hardship scholarship. And I told her about being in Whitman, about having to listen to so many other girls' problems while hiding my own, having everyone around me assume that everything was perfectly alright for me.

Then I came to the last part. “I was all alone. I heard about the combat finals, and I'm so weak. I thought, I thought if I had to fight, I'd be hurt, everyone would laugh at me. They'd see how pathetic I am. They'd want to hurt me, like... like my brothers. I was on top of Whitman, crying. I couldn't think of anything good. Not my past, my future. It just hurt. It hurt so much.” I started crying again, clutching Mrs. Young as hard as I could.

She held me, stroking my hair until I could continue.

“I jumped,” I whispered, shuddering as I remembered the feeling of the wind against my face, the thud as I hit the ground.” I didn't think about it, didn't plan it. I just did it. I healed all alone. As I was lying there, I wanted one good thing to happen, just one, to let me know that there was something to hope for.”

Mrs. Young didn't say anything, just bent down and kissed my hair. Not judging me, not giving me empty platitudes, just letting me know silently that she wouldn't leave me or betray me.

I still hurt, but it wasn't the crippling, gut-wrenching, world-shattering hurt that my own family had inflicted on me. I could honestly say that it felt just a bit easier to breath. I certainly wouldn't say that I was all better now, but I could see that my self-imposed prison cell had at least started to crumble, and that I could possibly even have a genuine discussion with my counselor once I returned to Whateley. She seemed to realize I was done speaking, that the worst of what I had to say was over. She gave me another kiss on my hair.

"I'm so proud of you, Kota," Mrs. Young finally said to me as she pulled me into a lighter and less serious but still warm hug. "I know this wasn't easy for you, but I'm glad you worked your way through it. Has it helped you to maybe sort some things out for yourself a bit?"

"Yeah," I replied simply as I held her close for just a few seconds, "it still hurts, but not as bad. I think I can see a light at the end of tunnel, if you know what I mean."

She told me gently, her own tears running down her cheeks. "Just promise me that you'll keep walking towards that light, even if the tunnel seems to keep getting longer. You'll get out of the darkness eventually, even if it takes a while. I'll be beside you every step of the way if you need me."

"Yes ma'am," I replied firmly, with more confidence than I'd felt in a long time, "I think I can do that." Then I asked her something that had terrified me almost as much as what had happened. "I'll still be me when I come out of it, right?" Even I could hear the tremble in my voice for that one.

Mrs. Young once again pushed me back to meet her gaze, her hand on my chin to make sure I didn't look away.

"Yes, Kota, I can promise that you will still be you." Her words were firm in spite of being tinged with sadness. "You'll undoubtedly be different, shaped and changed by your unique experiences, but you will never stop being you. Don't ever forget that."

We embraced again. Not as tearfully this time, but I didn't treasure it any less. It was amazing how just talking about what I'd been through could make me so comfortable with hugging someone, considering that I'd never been a very touchy-feely person. I guess this was just one of those kinds of changes that Mrs. Young was talking about, and that thought was both scary and oddly comforting.

"This doesn't mean I have to start being girly now, does it?" I asked only half jokingly, surprised I could do that much, "because I don't think I'm quite ready for that, or if I ever will be." Then I gave a slight groan. "I'm acting just like Estelle right now, aren't I? Fighting back against the inevitable and..."

Mrs. Young placed a single finger on my lips, silencing me as swiftly as if she had covered my whole mouth.

"Shhhh...don't worry about Estelle, you have enough troubles of your own to deal with." Her eyes started to glisten a bit with an anguish that she struggled valiantly to conceal. "Estelle's situation is more complicated than you realize, no less complicated than your own in fact, only for different reasons. I can only hope that she can come to terms with it in her own time and in her own way, just like you still have to do."

I nodded uncomfortably at that, unsure of exactly what she meant though I did have a vague idea. She'd told me that she physically couldn't help Estelle the way that she was helping me, and while I didn't really understand how that could be, I didn't believe that she was lying to me. And if Estelle couldn't lean on her mother's support for some reason, than her situation was even more similar to my own than I'd first realized.

Could I maybe be of some help to her, the way that her mother was being of help to me? Could I honestly bring myself to help someone who was so angrily fighting back against everything I wished I still had? As much as the thought pained me, I didn't honestly know if I could or not. I struggled to form words to express that, but Mrs. Young spoke up first.

"Can I ask you to promise me one more thing?"

I swallowed hard and gave a firm nod.

"I won't ask you to try reasoning with Estelle about her situation, not when I know how stubborn she can be and how difficult that might be for you to deal with. But whenever she says or does something that upsets you could you please keep in mind just what she's going through? I know that's asking a lot of you, but right now you're the only person she knows who has a chance of really understanding what she's dealing with."

Even without the desperate pleading in her voice and in her eyes, I knew what I was going to say. Once again she'd given me just what I needed to hear.

"I can't promise that I'll handle it well, but there's no way I won't be keeping it in mind. I'll do my best not to argue with her or make things any harder for her to deal with, but I can't promise that I won't mess that up."

Now it was her turn to swallow hard and nod. If she was upset by my response she did a good job of not letting it show. "Thank you. That's all I can ask, that you give it your best. And I really am sorry to have to ask all this of you, but since you'll be here through the end of the holidays..."

"It'll be something I have to deal with anyways," I finished for her before taking a deep breath. She smiled and gave me another quick hug, which I found myself appreciating more and more. As I said before, I'd never been a very touchy kind of guy, but her hugs just felt so RIGHT. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I could certainly get used to them.

She had one last thing to say as she held me. “After Christmas, we're going to get some company, someone we were introduced to through Estelle's doctor. She went through the same thing you did. She's going to talk to Estelle, if you want you can meet her to. Together with Estelle or by yourself.”

It was hard to believe that in one night I would find one person changing like I had, now she was telling me there was another one. “I'll see her. I'll try to see her with Estelle.”

That got another squeeze of encouragement.

Finally we released each other as Mrs. Young cleared her throat and suddenly became more businesslike.

"Well, it's getting late, and we need to get back. I called Steve when we arrived earlier so he wouldn't worry about us, now I'll let him know to come pick us up. I don't know about you, but I really don't feel like walking several kilometers through the snow in the middle of the night."

"Yeah, that's something I'd rather avoid as well," I adamantly agreed.

While Mrs. Young called her husband to see about getting us a ride, I made a point to bring our nearly-forgotten dishes back up to the counter where the manager was waiting. A quick glance at the clock on the wall told me that it was nearly 11:00pm, almost an hour past the shop's scheduled closing time.

"Um...I'm sorry, sir, we didn't mean to..."

He silenced me with an upraised palm, his face was warm and kind rather than cold and angry that I had expected.

"No need to apologize, little lady, I could tell that your conversation was more important than my late night movie at home."

That response confused me, and it must have shown on my face because the man just chuckled before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a familiar looking plastic ID card. Apparently his codename was Resonance, and he was rated as a receptive Empath-2. My eyes widened at that revelation.

"You're a hero too?"

"Oh no," he quickly replied, though his deep belly laugh made that a bit of a struggle, "I'm not really much of a hero type. I'm just an average Joe mutant trying to make a living, who just happens to also be decent friends with Prairie Sun and Fly By. They've asked for my assistance more than a few times to help out young mutants like yourself, though usually they don't really need much assistance from me. They're both good people, and you kids are usually pretty quick to pick up on that and open up."

He leaned forward over the counter and looked me right in the eyes.

"Listen. I don't really know what you're going through, only that it's been causing you a lot of heartache and pain for a good while. But trust me when I say that, whatever it is, it WILL get better with time."

I couldn't help but smile at that. Here was a man who had no clue what I was facing, and yet he would take the time to encourage me through it, genuinely believing that it would get better. I have to say that it was hard to not believe him.

"Just had to get in your little heart-to-heart as well, huh Reese?" Mrs. Young said with a smile as she walked up behind me, addressing the man I only knew as Resonance by his apparent first name. It didn't escape my notice that she placed a check face down on the counter and slid it across to him.

"And why shouldn't I, Sun? Encouraging words don't cost me anything, and they usually do a world of good for the person who hears them." Then he gave Sun a stern frown before sliding the check, still face down and unlooked-at, back across the counter. "And I'm serious about the no cost thing. You know I don't take payment for things like this."

Sun merely nodded with a smile that was no less firm.

"Of course I know that, Reese. But you should also know me well enough to realize that I'm not offering this lightly." She paused for a moment and I got the distinct impression that she was looking at me. "This conversation hit a lot closer to home than the usual ones, and I appreciated your usual tact of not interrupting so much more because of that. I'm afraid that this time I really must insist." And with that she firmly slid the check across the counter one more time.

I felt my cheeks flush as Resonance gave me a long appraising look, as though he was seeing me again for the first time and trying to gauge what was different. It was somewhat uncomfortable, but it didn't take long for him to shift his eyes back to Sun. He did take the check though, and without looking at it folded it up and added it to the MID in his pocket.

"Alright, I'll take it this time, but don't expect it to happen again." Then he turned his eyes back to me, though this time they were much friendlier. "You must be something else, kid. Remember what I said. Tough it out and things will get better." And with that he gave me a gruff nod and turned away, taking our dishes with him to small kitchen in the back.

Mrs. Young placed a hand on my shoulder and started guiding me away from the counter and towards the door.

"Don't mind him too much" she said gently, "he really has a big heart and a gentle soul, it's just that he's very firm about sticking to his principles and I just asked him to ignore a big one for the time being."

"Yeah, he seemed nice enough, and I guess I can see how important his principles are to him, so I can kind of understand the moodiness there at the end."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," she said as she opened the door with an oddly mischievous smile, "he'll be getting over it rather sooner than you might think."

Okay, what was THAT supposed to mean? As I hugged my blanket tighter around me to combat the freezing night air and looked out to see Mr. Young already waiting for us in the family vehicle, I considered asking Mrs. Young that very question. Before I could open my mouth to ask however, I was startled by the sound of a positively thunderous laugh that erupted from the kitchen on the other side of the hall.

"Prairie Sun, you sneaky little schemer! Ten dollars?! You got me all riled up over a stinkin' HOUR at MINIMUM WAGE?!"

Even as my jaw dropped from the sheer hilarity contained in those words, Mrs. Young was grabbing me by the shoulder with a broad grin and dragging me out into the parking lot through the falling snow.

Could this night get any stranger?

Edmonton, Alberta
December 22nd, 2007

I don't know when Mom came back with Kota. I was asleep long before they arrived. But the next morning when I woke up before eight, Mom was sitting beside my bed. She was watching me with a sad expression in her eyes. Whatever she and Kota had talked about had to of been bad, she usually only hovered over me if something made her worried about a kid. Since my parents usually got one or two kids a year staying with them for a few weeks, not counting the kids who dropped by for a couple of days, I was kind of used to this.

“Morning Mom,” I said, giving her a smile, that I didn't feel in the least.

“Hey honey.” Even with her exemplar powers, she sounded tired.

There was no point in waiting, might as well get the pain over with. “How's Kota?”

“Scared, hurting, but getting better. How about you?”

I took a bit of time to think about my answer. “Scared,” I finally admitted.

Mom patted my leg. “I understand, sweetie. I wish I could do something to make it better...” She took a sip of her coffee. “I want to ask you to do something, if you don't want to that's fine but I'd like to consider it.”

Nodding, I waited for her to tell me, even though I had a pretty good idea what was coming.

“If Kota does something that gets on your nerves or upsets you don't yell at her. She's been through a lot, and you're the only person she knows who is in a remotely similar position.”

Another nod. It wouldn't be easy, it seemed like she was spitting on a lot of the best things about being a girl, but I'd try. Mom kissed my toy rabbit and pressed it against my cheek, in thanks. I returned the kiss with my dog.

She gave me a smile. “If you want you can ask her some questions, but don't press her if she doesn't want to answer. And she might have some questions for you.”

“If she asks me anything I'll try to answer. But I don't think I want to ask her anything.” Ok, I probably did have a lot of things to ask her, but I was still pretty upset with how she'd acted yesterday. I wasn't ready to open up to her anytime soon.

Mom squeezed my leg, probably expecting me to say just that. “Thanks dear. Do you want some breakfast?”

“Later. I want to do a bit of a workout before I have a shower.”

“Alright, when you're ready let me know.” She gave a little scowl. “Last night you're Dad and I got Big Horn to fill in for us over the holidays, except New Years Eve. So except for a couple of special events we'll be here for you.”

My eyes probably bugged out. They hated the musclebound idiot part time hero, he was always found at bars and parties trying to hit on women, last summer he'd told me to call him when I turned eighteen. When he wasn't playing hero with his manifested armour, he ran a gym that was well known for turning a blind eye to steroids and other enhancers. “You asked Big Horn to cover for you? How much did that cost?”

“Don't ask,” Mom groaned. “But it was worth it, and Snowflake was out of town. Anyways, if the other girls are up for it, we're going to take them to the headquarters for a bit of show and tell. And you and Theresa are scheduled for haircuts and nails at five, it took a lot of begging and calling in favours to get you in on such short notice, so if you back out, I'm going to shave your hair off.”

“Thanks Mom, I promise not to get into any fights.” I actually liked Theresa, so that was one less worry.

She lifted the blanket up to my neck and gave me a hug, before leaving to go see what Dad was cooking for breakfast. Replacing my pajamas with a leotard and a pair of shorts, and slipping on my bracelets, I headed for the workout room, which had one side set up for dancing, aerobics and sparring. It was soundproofed so I was able to turn on some modern jazz as loud as I liked and lost myself in the music.

Mom had tried to get me interested in running with her, but even though I learned how to run pretty well from her and they'd asked me to join the school track and field team, I'd never enjoyed it. The steady beat was boring, and it was just a faster way to get from point A to point B. Dancing was different. It was beautiful, it let me show the world how I felt when I couldn't and wouldn't touch others physically. If I was happy it showed in my movements, when I was angry I just had to change songs and everyone knew. It was the one time when my mind, soul and body felt as if they were in harmony. I could even dance with others and feel completely natural.

I don't know how long I danced for before stopping to take a drink. My muscles were shaking and it took a lot of effort not to bend over panting, which is one of the worst things you can do if you want to avoid cramping. Wetting a towel at the sink in the corner, I noticed Kota watching me, crouched beside the door. I finished my water and patted the sweat from my face and shoulders.

“Hi,” I said, my voice low and cautious.

She was almost hidden in her black t-shirt and baggy sweatpants, for a moment it looked like she was ready to walk away. Then, “Hi.”

We stood there very awkwardly for a few minutes, me staring at my feet, needlessly wiping away imaginary sweat from my brow, and she sat there silently. What was I suppose to say? Hey what's it like being a boy? Did it hurt when you changed? Would you be interested in a body swap?

“You're a good dancer,” she said almost too quickly to hear.

“Thanks. I'm not sure how long I can keep dancing.”

Kota looked at me as if I'd grown a second head. “Why stop?”

“My body is going to change. My balance is going to be crap, and my center of mass is going to be right off. And I'll have to learn how to dance like a guy,” I explained, trying to keep my voice steady.

“You can learn how to handle it. It just takes practice.”

“You dance?”

She shook her head. “Parkour, like your Mom.”

We still weren't really looking at each other. Maybe it was because we were both jealous of the other, or we just hated how we were both acting, but it was really hard to talk. Every time I looked at her I was jealous of her hair, her figure, her skin. Heck without even seeing it I was jealous of her vagina, periods and all. And to be fair, she was probably jealous of my soon to be privates to.

“What's it like being a boy?”

I had no idea where that question had come from. It took me a moment to realize I had even said it. Kota looked as surprised as I felt that I'd asked it. The blood rush to my cheeks, and my brain panicked. Unthinkingly I ran out the door, heading straight to the safety of my room. As soon as my door was closed and locked, I stripped out of my clothes, leaving them in a trail to my bathroom where I hopped in the shower to wash away the sweat and prove to myself I was still a girl. The water was freezing by the time I forced myself to step out.

**

Eventually I headed down for breakfast.

Theresa looking like she'd just woken up was there in her pajamas. She stopped yawning when I sat down at the table, giving me an odd look. We hadn't really talked at all the night before. She'd cleared the table while I recovered from my meltdown, and disappeared to her room while Dad and I finished cleaning. I wondered what she was going to say now that she knew what I was turning into.

Dad came in with a plate of homemade berry waffles. We both dug in, drenching them in maple syrup. Kota followed a few minutes later, she stopped at the door and looked at her roommates back. Theresa was oblivious to the scrutiny. I saw the look of almost fear as she hesitated at the door. I was getting to know the look very well, I saw it in the school bathroom mirror, when I watched the other girls around me getting ready for the day.

Smiling as cheerfully as possible, I pointed at the waffles. “Sit down and eat, Kota. The waffles are great.”

“Thanks,” she said. “Morning D.”

Theresa mumbled something that could have been good morning. Kota paused for a second as she was sitting down, her face full of pain, her eyes began to glitter with tears. I wished Mom was with us, she'd know what to do. Dad could probably think of something to. But it was just us three, three freaks who weren't sure of anything anymore.

“Kota, my parents want to take you to their headquarters today. Mom really wants to do parkour with you, do you think you're up for it?” I blurted out.

The pain was still plain in her eyes, but it had receded a little. Filling her plate up with waffles, she nodded. “Yeah, I'd like that. I've never had the chance to try doing parkour inside, it sounds cool. What will you do?”

“I'll go with you guys to the head quarters. I want to say hi to a few people there, then I'll probably relax until we're ready to go.” I wasn't going to mention getting my hair and nails done, I had kind of promised Mom to keep everything calm, and that seemed like a sore spot for some reason.

That seemed to be the end of the conversation. We kept our heads down eating the delicious waffles, while my parents were off doing something. They'd know what to say to get us talking or laughing, where the heck were they?

We ran of juice, so I took the pitcher to refill it. Dad had cleaned up the kitchen and disappeared, so I quickly grabbed a new thing of juice from the fridge and headed back. But I stopped at the door, Theresa and Kota were talking. I bit my lip not sure if I should go in, or sit down for a few minutes, then I heard what they were talking about.

“-I don't know,” Kota said.

The answer didn't seem to satisfy Theresa. “How can you not know?”

“I don't know. I know I haven't looked at you or any other girl in the bathroom like that, but I haven't looked at boys either. So I don't know,” the girl repeated, sounding confused.

I retreated, and sat down on a stool at the kitchen island. Would I be like that to? Not knowing if I liked boys or girls. I liked boys, I was starting to look around for an actual boyfriend who wouldn't mind that we could only get together on the weekend. Girls were pretty, but not in a dating or sexy way. I tried to imagine what kissing a girl would be like. I didn't really have anything to base it off of, having never kissed a boy. But where I could picture kissing a boy and getting excited at the thought, with tingles running through my body, I couldn't do the same when I thought of kissing a girl, it just sort of fell flat.

After a few minute of my thoughts running in circles, I headed back in, making just enough noise that they would hear me. When I sat down, Kota seemed a little better, and Theresa wasn't staring at her plate as if it was the only thing in the world. We finished the last of the waffles when Mom walked in all smiles.

“We're going to head into town soon,” she said, with none of the tiredness I'd heard in her voice earlier, “and we'll get a late lunch at a great Chinese buffet, so you have half an hour to get ready. Theresa can you come with me? I need some help wrapping up some presents and Steve is busy with some last minute business.”

Theresa took off with a quick goodbye, so it was up to Kota and I to clean up things. If this was a family movie, or a heartwarming story, we'd start talking to each other, sharing our feelings, have a good cry, and become best of friends ready to face the world together. Maybe even start dating once I was a boy.

Nope.

We worked quietly, Kota asked where to put things and I told her. I didn't know about her, but I felt ready to shatter. Kota had been a girl for at least a few months, and she seemed to hate it. Would I be like that as a boy, hating every minute of my new life? The future didn't look very good.

Edmonton Heroes Headquarters,

I gratefully got out of my parents SUV as soon as we hit the underground parking lot of their headquarters and the largest police station in Edmonton. Theresa had sat between Kota and I, which had helped keep things calm. Best of all, whatever Mom and Theresa had talked about had the girl talking if not as excitedly as usual, at least comfortably with Kota. Theresa was talking mostly about the headquarters, during the summer she had stayed in the guest quarters of the base because her GSD hadn't let her wander around well enough to risk staying at the house, so she was telling Kota about all the cool things.

We walked to the secure elevator, where Dad used a keycard to open the heavy steel door that protected the elevator. Then they had to use a key and thumb scan to get it moving. I knew that we were being watched by security and if anyone tried to use the elevator without being recognized, the elevator would be stopped and had better have a very good reason for using it because every available police officer and every available hero would be put on alert ready to take on the intruder.

The elevator let us avoid the small area open to the public which had a small museum, gift shop, and reception area. The museum wasn't much, even though it covered all the superhero and mutant community of the Canadian Prairies, with some mention of the Vancouver based heroes who over the years offered support when something proved too big to handle by the small handful of heroes that called Alberta and specifically Edmonton home. Quite simply until recently there hadn't been enough people or interest to have much of anything worthwhile except cows and wheat. The oil sands had started to change that, but it took the oil boom of the 1990's to start getting heroes and villains that did more then pass through.

Until my parents settled down in Edmonton after getting contracts with the various oil companies in 1991, there were only one or two part time heroes in all of Alberta depending on the year. My parents still complain about how the Edmonton based hero Athabasca Man, a hydrokinetic and manifestor, refused to work with them because they had brought Eastern Canadian problems to his city. Apparently being superheroes full time was a draw for supervillains, and it was wrong to accept money for fighting the good fight.

Still he and the other old heroes were prominently displayed as inspiration for the new heroes in town.

We got off on the second floor of the headquarters proper, which was actually six floors up. The guest rooms, training rooms, dining hall and break room were there. To justify the cost of the large and expensive training rooms the police regularly scheduled sessions in the parkour gym and exercise room. It was pretty tightly controlled, so that the heroes could train without having to wear their costumes while around people who hadn't been checked a few dozen times to ensure they were clean. The fifteen regular staff members, most of whom except for the janitors, were RCMP officers, had all undergone background checks that were similar to what a person would go through to join the secret service. The part timers, were more tightly controlled and were constantly monitored while in the building.

The elevator came to a stop and we were once again in a tiny secure room, but this one had four change rooms, well sealed, for heroes who wanted to get suited up before entering or exiting the headquarters proper. Since my parents were there under their civilian identities they didn't have to worry about costumes and stuff.

An armed guard in a police uniform waited just outside the door, behind a console that monitored the whole building. He couldn't actually control much, except to move the cameras to look at suspicious activity, hit the alarm, contact others, and see what was happening throughout the building, even with the reinforced bullet proof glass, the place was too open and accessible to allow it greater access. And even that limited control could be be cut from central control, and if an enemy gained control of central control it was as Dad explained, all over except for the screaming.

“Hello Mr and Mrs Young. These are Estelle Young, Theresa Williams, and Dakota Morgan, correct?” the officer on duty asked through his speaker.

“Yes, they are,” Dad said needlessly. They'd sent a full listing of who was coming with them along with Theresa and Kota's photo the day before, my photo was already on record.

The man smiled at us girls. “Welcome to the superhero headquarters, none of the heroes are in today but there is still plenty to see. If you get separated from Mr or Mrs Young, just stay where you are and someone will be along to help you in a few minutes. Do not go through any door marked in red unless invited in by an employee, and do not touch any buttons or equipment.”

We all nodded as he finished his spiel. I'd heard it hundreds of times, and I could actually wander around without an escort as long as I didn't go to the armoury or the control center. But it was regulations.

We headed in, my parents didn't need to tell Kota what everything was, Theresa, having spent a month living there was more than willing to give a running commentary. “The guest rooms are right ahead, they're like two of our rooms, and they have tv, computers, wifi, huge closets, room service, and everything. I actually had Super Bear as a neighbour while I was here.”

“Super Bear?” Kota asked not quite believing her ears.

“Yeah, he's a devisor and gadgeteer, with GSD that makes him look like a hot pink bear with devils horns and tail. He's a really great cook to!”

Before Kota could say anything about him, I butted in. “He's also my godfather, and like an uncle to me. If you go to Vancouver with us, you can meet him.”

“Sounds cool. I'd love to meet him,” Kota said.

“We're going to be visiting Vancouver in the first week of January, so Estelle can see her doctor. You girls will be seeing the sights and can meet the Vancouver Heroes Corp, while we're there,” Mom said.

“Really! Cool!” Theresa gushed. “Oh Kota! Here is the room I was talking about.”

She opened the door to the jungle gym, which Mom had paid for. There were walls, steep ramps, railings, and platforms throughout the large room, which had originally be an indoor running track. Looking up revealed that there were bars, beams, wires and ropes hanging from the ceiling. It looked like a jumbled mess to me, but Mom loved it.

Kota looked inside, and I could see her drooling at the sight. Mom must have noticed to. “I know I said we would do it later today, but do you want to go for a run now Kota? You can show me your moves.”

“Yes!” the girl said with real excitement for the first time since she'd arrived.

“Come on, we have some gym clothes that should fit you. We don't want to be sweaty all day.” She turned to us, “Have fun with the rest of the tour girls.” The two headed into the jungle gym which shared showers and change rooms with the regular gym.

Dad smiled and waved goodbye. “Well since you two have already seen the base, what would you like to do now?”

“Is Annie still here? I'd like to say hi,” Theresa asked.

I answered for Dad. “Yeah, she is, and working today. I actually wanted to say hi to her to.”

“Alright, you two go say hi, I'll be in the control room making sure there aren't any emergencies,” he said.

I led Theresa to the kitchen/dining hall, where Annie would probably be cleaning things before lunch. It wasn't much of a kitchen, most people brought meals from home or ordered out, but for long term guests or when a hero was pulling an all nighter or lying low, I was told it was nice to have a kitchen. As expected Annie was there wiping the tables off and making sure everything was nice and tidy. She was the head of general maintenance, as well as being a really nice lady.

“Annie!” Theresa shouted as soon as she saw the woman.

Turning around, Annie gave the girl a big hug, a few blue, downy feathers fell from her hair. Annie was a mutant, not a big powerful one, she could just teleport little things a few feet, which saved her time when cleaning up clutter, and all of her hair had turned into feathers. She usually wore a wig outside, and shaved her arms and legs regularly, so she wasn't bothered by the more anti-mutant people.

“Theresa, how are you? How is Whateley?”

“It's pretty good. I've met a lot of people like me, and was able to pick up this fake skin that looks almost as good as real skin. And I've got a boyfriend!”

That made Annie grin. “You'll have to tell me all about it later, and I hope you brought pictures of him.” She saw me and her smile faded a little. “El, your parents told me you'll be going to Whateley next year, I trust Theresa has been telling you what to expect.”

“How much did they tell you?” I asked nervously.

“Just the basics, and that you're having a bit of a hard time. But buck up, you've survived almost being sacrificed, and saved the world, you'll handle this,” she assured me.

Theresa looked at me wide eyed. “You saved the world.”

“Not really. I just broke a forcefield some cultists had put up, so Mom and a few others could come in and stop them from summoning their god to earth,” I said.

“Just broke a forcefield!” Annie practically shouted. “Sit down and let me tell you what I heard.”

So we spent the next half hour hearing about my exploits in far more detail then I thought possible. She also made me sound a lot more heroic then I'd felt at the time. I still had nightmares about the event when I didn't take my sleeping pills, alongside the ones about my changing body, and what I remembered involved a lot more screaming, terror and pain.

The subject naturally moved to my parents, and Annie proved once again to be a wonderful storyteller, talking about things my parents had done, villains they'd defeated and people they'd saved. I'd heard the stories before, often from Annie herself, but it was always nice to hear them again.

“Have you thought any more about becoming a hero, Theresa?” Annie asked after telling how my parents had saved Christmas.

“A little, but I'm thinking that I might not be cut out for it. The superhero kids seem kind of intense,” she admitted. “I know my powers could be good for it, trapping people in dirt and rock is a lot better than just punching them or hitting them with a car, but I'm not brave enough. Not like Estelle or her parents. She'll make a great superhero.”

“I'm not going to be a superhero!” I said, startled that she could believe that I'd be great at it.

“Why not?” she asked sounding honestly surprised.

How could I explain the curse? It wasn't like I had told anyone else, that would have invited questions about why a supervillain would want to curse my parents. I'd cried about it a lot with Uncle Herb, and even a few times with Annie or Reese after a really bad day, but they knew all about it. Heck Uncle Herb knew more about the curse then I did, since he'd tried to make a couple of devises over the years to let my family feel things normally. But actually telling someone not in the know, I found myself tongue tied.

Annie stepped in. “Being a superhero isn't always easy. And a lot of time it's harder on the family than anyone else.”

Theresa gave me a questioning look but didn't push. We let Annie get on with her work, and wandered around saying hi to the regular staff, checking out the newest addition to the little museum and helping Theresa get a few little gifts for her friends back at school using my family discount. A little over two hours after leaving Mom and Kota, my phone buzzed, letting us know it was time to meet up again.

We walked back to the to dining room, and I had to pause at the door. Kota and Mom were sitting down, freshly showered, talking excitedly about parkour, with their arms around each other looking more like mother and daughter than friends. Exactly how I wanted to hold Mom, the way I wanted the world to see us. But I couldn't. To people who watched us, we'd come off as cold, impersonal, uncaring, even if it wasn't true.

Stiffening my spine, I tried to follow Theresa making it look natural. I was used to this. I'd seen Mom and Dad hugging and giving pats on the back to other kids they'd cared for, I did the same thing with Uncle Herb. But it always hurt. I wanted to hold Mom like that. And to see this girl who didn't want to be a girl, hugging Mom with a body I'd do anything to have just made it worse.

I refused to cry.

No one seemed to notice that I had fallen a step behind Theresa. Mom might have seen how I had pasted on a friendly smile to hide the pain in my eyes, but she didn't say anything. Dad came in a second later, giving me a quick, gentle pat on the shoulder, while squeezing Theresa's shoulder more tightly, more fatherly.

Mom's smile wavered slightly when she looked up at Dad, but she quickly recovered from whatever she'd seen in his face. “Alright, who's hungry?”

It turned out we all were, after the long drive into the city, and almost three hours at the headquarters. Dad held Mom back while the rest of us went to the elevator. After five minutes of listening to Kota and Theresa talk about what they'd done, Mom and Dad caught up to us. They were looking at me with expressions I'd seen far too much of in the last two months, fear.

**

At the restaurant, as we got out of the SUV, I grabbed Dad's coat and motioned for him to wait while the others went ahead.

“What's up?” he asked when we were reasonably alone.

“What's going on?” I asked.

He sighed, knowing the look in my eye wouldn't let him get away with a quick answer. “The Blood Cult you helped stop in Vancouver is still around. They've reformed under new leaders, and while they only seem to have a few dozen members left, they're still dangerous. And... it's been confirmed, they're hunting you.”

Ok, this wasn't quite old news, but it wasn't necessarily new. “So, they can't really do much to me. They don't know my name, and they only have a few grainy photo's that got onto the internet.”

He shook his head. “Last night, they captured one of their priests. A low level one, but important enough. He had a USB chip with some pictures that are higher quality. They aren't perfect, but they have a good idea of what you look like. When questioned, he started shouting that you stole a fragment of their god.”

I felt dizzy, desperately catching myself against the side of the vehicle before I fell. “Oh god!”

“Don't worry, Estelle. They don't have your name, and they only have a few pictures that aren't very clear. When you get your haircut pick a totally different style, and get it dyed. In a few months, you'll look different enough that they won't have any idea who you are,” he tried to reassure me.

I practiced some deep breathing exercises, trying to keep calm. “So there is one good thing about becoming a boy.”

“Come on, let's go eat,” he said.

Despite being an energizer, and wanting at least one big meal a day, I wasn't very hungry.

**

Dad and I went shopping by ourselves, getting some last minute Christmas gifts, while mom and our guests went off to do something else. I didn't want to see how Kota and Mom were hanging out and hugging each other, so I didn't even ask to tag along. It wasn't worth the anger, and really the only reason it was affecting me was that Kota had been a boy. If it was Theresa, I'd have been ok with it, but it was like a double whammy for me when I saw them like that. At least Mom was nice enough to avoid doing it too often when I could see.

Our first stop was the bookstore. I got a new book about international supervillains for Faith, and because she was at least an acquaintance if not a friend, a book on mutant heroes for Tammy, which I knew would annoy her in a way she couldn't complain about. Yeah, normally books for teenage girls wouldn't be a big thing, unless it was Twilight or something, but if you went to Everest it was generally because you really wanted to learn and were good at it. There were some who went simply because they were suppose to and their parents had money, but the school played fair with the marks, so those girls washed out or barely slid by.

We walked through the rest of the mall, getting some CD's and DVD's for people who we couldn't think of anything better to get. Dad got me to help pick out a diamond necklace and a set of earrings. I took my time looking over the jewelry. Every year since I got my ears pierced at ten, my parents got me a set of earrings for Christmas. If they bothered this year, it would be for the very last time. Holding up a turquoise necklace and earring set that highlighted my dark brown eyes I was tempted to buy it for myself, even if I could only wear it for a few months and it would break my bank account.

Dad finally dragged me out by reminding me I had a hair appointment at five.

We met the others just outside the salon. Kota looked very uncomfortable, but didn't say much except for a hello. She had a bag of what looked like clothes with her, Mom took the bags that Theresa had, and left with Kota, telling us to have a good time.

Theresa and I went in and took our seats. My stylist was shocked when I told her how I wanted my hair done, cutting my long dark hair to just above the shoulders, and getting it dyed a gold blonde. I was tempted to get it cut even shorter, but I just couldn't go through with it, not so soon. Theresa was just as surprised, but at least when I told her it was for personal reasons, after she and the stylist wouldn't accept 'I just want a change,' as an excuse, she dropped it with a knowing, sympathetic look.

When I managed to blink away the tears, I had to admit I looked really different. The way my new blonde hair went with my skin added new shadows and angles to my face. If the cult was using photo's of me before I got my permanent sunburn, they would have a lot of trouble finding me. So at least my hair was sacrificed for a worthy cause. And I'd have had to cut it short eventually, I could just convince myself it was better to do it in stages rather then all at once.

Yeah right.

**

That evening after a long day, a good supper, and a few Christmas movies, I was sitting in my room writing in my diary trying to get my brain relaxed enough to maybe sleep without taking any pills, when there was a knock on the door. Opening it revealed Kota, wearing long shorts and a t-shirt that I assumed were her pajamas. I also noticed that her hair was in a simple braid rather then a ponytail.

“Can I come in?” she asked, chewing on her lower lip.

Curious about what she could want to talk about, I stepped aside and waved her over to my big stuffed chair. “Yeah sure.”

Sitting down on my bed, I noticed a flicker of discomfort from Kota as she looked around my pink room, stuffed toys, and boy band posters. Well it was my room not hers, so it wasn't my problem if she didn't like it, I took the high ground and didn't comment on it.

She crossed her leg like a guy, with the ankle on her knee, which would be really embarrassing in a skirt, and would look bad in pants if she did it in public. I wondered if she knew what she was doing and if I should correct her, but decided if it could wait until I was asked, or we were actually comfortable around each other, if that ever happened. Kota played with her fingers for a few seconds, looking at them as if they were the most fascinating things in the world.

“I'm sorry,” she said.

That was not what I expected. “About what?”

“Today. When you walked in on your mom and I talking and laughing. I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry.”

It was my turn to look at my hands. “Oh, I didn't think you noticed.”

“I did. I thought you were going... going to cry. And since I... promised your mom to try to get along with you I just wanted to say I'm sorry. That's all I wanted to say.” She started to get up.

I pushed her back down. “It's not your fault. You- you don't need to say your sorry.”

A look of relief appeared. “Really.”

“Yeah, really.”

There was another long drawn out silence. Finally, “Can I ask you a question?”

I nodded.

“Why don't you hug your mom?” she asked in a rush.

Grabbing my stuffed dog, I tried to think of the best way to explain things. Nothing came to mind, my mind just went blank. Finally in desperation I just said, “I can't.”

“Why not?” she asked, confusion written on her face.

“One of the problems of being a superhero,” I muttered, adding to her confusion. “Mom and Dad were cursed, and so was I. When we touch each other it's like touching cold stone, it can even hurt. We can touch through clothes and things, which is kind of nice, but hugging each other without a thick sweater or a coat isn't worth the pain. So yeah, it wasn't your fault today, but... thanks.”

“That sucks,” she said softly, her voice full of pity.

Sparks fell from my fingers, anger filled me. I didn't hate her but I couldn't stand the pity in her eyes. Kota jumped away watching the sparks nervously. “Sorry. Sorry.” Taking a deep calming breath, I got the sparks to stop. “I was about to go to bed, we have a big day tomorrow seeing family friends and stuff. I'll introduce you to some of my friends.”

“Sure. Goodnight Estelle,” she said.

“Goodnight.”

When the door was closed, I opened the bottle of sleeping pills and took two instead of the usual one.

Downers Pub, Neutral Territory,
Edmonton, Alberta,
December 22nd, 2007

Fly By

Downers Pub was not a place that most people heard of, at least not most regular people. It was a place that the average Joe would pass quickly. With the windowless front, metal door, broken neon sign, the broken bottles out front, it looked like a place that would take in any so-called tough guy break them in half, steal their valuables and spit them out after an hour long beating and other less fun activities if it was feeling generous.

The masked man, wearing the always fashionable colour black, with a less fashionable but very intimidating large pistol on his hip, who came flying out of the night sky looked like a customer who just might survive. He knocked on the door, hard, surprisingly the door didn't even rattle. There was a long wait, as a dozen or so very well hidden cameras took his picture and if someone had very good hearing, they'd hear the sound of cursing and running feet.

The door finally opened and three bouncers with body armour and one of a kind firearms pointed at his chest, greeted the would be customer. “What do you want?” one of them with a too pretty face asked.

“It's just little old Night Flier, and I'm here on peaceful business. Just want a beer and to pass on some information. And if you don't get those guns out of my face, I'll have to shove them somewhere very painful.” When the guns didn't lower, he smirked. “If you do manage to shoot me, you'll have to deal with Crowbar. She needs some serious stress relief right now, a lot of tension, that time of the month, you know how she can get, Sweet Cheeks. Remember the last time you pissed her off kidnapping that kid, she made a necklace out of your teeth, lately she's been talking about getting matching earrings.”

Sweet Cheeks glowered at his hated nickname even as he turned white, and stepped aside. “As long as it's peaceful welcome to Downers.”

The inside of the bar was more like a fancy club, comfortable chairs, tables widely spaced with privacy curtains to help with private conversations, lots of private rooms, half naked waitresses, and a bunch of even less dressed girls sitting off to the side smiling at the customers. It was close to Christmas so the bar was only half full, even criminals like to take vacations. Still there were enough ears for his business.

Night Flier went to the bar and was greeted by a well dressed bartender holding a cold bottle of beer teleported straight from a micro brewery in Germany. “Night Flier, haven't seen you in a while. Your usual?”

“Thank you, Benny. Things have been going pretty well, so I haven't had much call to drop by. I'm hoping you can help me keep it that way,” he said before taking a drink.

“I'm always willing to help out the community. Provided it doesn't push any boundaries.”

“You've heard how the heroes were talking to some people in the community about a doomsday cult right?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “Well a little bird told me that there is a very good chance the cult is coming here, looking for a kid.”

Benny nodded. “That would be foolish of them. We all know how your... partner deals with people like that. But cultists have never been particularly gifted in commonsense.”

“Exactly, and these ones are stupider then most. Pass the word, if anyone hears about people talking about a strange god, rituals, or scoping out schools for young teenage girls, to speak up. If the information is good, certain parties would be willing to overlook minor problems.”

“I'm sure they'll be more than happy to help out. Gods tend to be bad for business. Would you like another?” the bartender asked, as a young woman with just enough clothing on to make a small glove draped herself over Night Fliers' shoulder.

“One for the road, please,” he said, putting five hundred dollars on the bar. Standing up he gave the girl a hundred and a smile. “Sorry not interested kid.”

Taking the beer, he headed out making sure to give Sweet Cheeks a mocking wave.

**
Edmonton, Alberta
December 23rd, 2007

Kota

Staring at the outfit that was waiting on my bed was difficult, I could hear my brothers calling me a 'pretty little toy' as I cried. Sure I'd picked it out with Mrs. Young the other day, it had looked ok in the mirror, not painted on or showing off my body. But it made me look pretty, it made me look beautiful.

My blue jeans, the baggy shirts, they hid me. People looked at the clothes, not me. It was safer that way.

Sitting on the bed, my skin rapidly cooling in the air after my shower, I couldn't bring myself to put on anything more than my underwear.

There was a knock on the door. When I didn't answer, Mrs. Young walked in, closing the door behind her. She sat down beside me, looking so confident in her red dress. Taking the hairbrush on the bedside table, she began combing my hair, humming softly with each stroke. I hadn't had anyone comb my hair since I was three or four, I'd always had short hair. Even after I turned eleven, and realized I wasn't going to get much support from my parents, I never really let it grow longer than an inch or two.

I kind of wish I had more memories like that.

My shoulders and neck relaxed, I hadn't realized they'd been so tense.

“Do you want to come to the banquet today?” she asked, still gently fixing my hair.

“I think so. I've been to a few, they were kind of fun.”

I could hear the smile in her voice. “Alright, you have to get dressed than, unless you want to cause a scandal.”

Picking up the bluish grey t-shirt, I stared at it uncertainly. It was softer and smaller than a mans shirt, the collar was almost non-existent.

“You've worn t-shirts before, haven't you?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“This just the same. A different style than you're used to but nothing else.”

She was right. It was just a shirt. It didn't show anything off, it wasn't even much tighter than what I wore when I was a boy. I slid it on, pulling my hair out of the collar. Then the pants. I'd thought that most pants for girls was skin tight. The jeans I'd bought were always a few sizes too large so they didn't cling to me, but the slacks felt normal. They weren't blue jeans, but they were ok, like the dress pants I'd had to wear for special occasions.

Having gone so far already, putting on the thin jacket with its weird short sleeves that looked like they'd been rolled up and sewn that way, was actually a relief. It hid the low collar of the shirt. I looked in the mirror and then stared at my feet. “I'm pretty.”

She wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “Yes you are, and you will be for a long, long time. You can live in the past and hate it. Or you can find a place where you are comfortable and learn how to enjoy it, defining yourself in the way you want to be seen.”

I forced myself to look in the mirror again, trying to see myself as Mrs. Young saw me. I was pretty, which to her was good. But I wasn't girly like Estelle who would cry or freak out at the drop of a hat, or Theresa who was so giggly and chirpy, I looked more mature, a little stronger, a little harder. I didn't think I could handle wearing a skirt or a dress, they'd made me wear one at Whateley for two days, before I refused and said my blue jeans and t-shirts were my uniform. But the pants, the t-shirt, I could do it. I could do it for Mrs. Young.

She must have seen something shift in me, because Mrs. Young began to grin, squeezing my shoulders and kissed my cheek. I was getting used to stuff like that, and truth be told was starting to look forward to the little hugs and kisses. “Thank you, Kota. Now, can I try something with your hair. Nothing too fancy, but a little different.”

“Ok,” I said a little nervously. The other day she'd taught me how to make a loose braid for my hair so it didn't tangle so badly at night. Even after becoming a girl I hadn't known anything about how to handle my hair, a ponytail was about all I could do for it, I'd had to figure out how to dry it properly from watching videos on the net.

Mrs. Young sat me down in the chair and began doing things to my hair. Her hands moved so quickly I couldn't see what she was doing. Her hands really were a blur. In less than five minutes, she had two braids on either side of my head, just above my temples, wrapped around my scalp, pinned together and buried under the rest of my hair.

My reflection had gone from pretty to beautiful.

“What do you think?” she asked, looking really pleased with herself.

I hated it. I wanted to just shave my hair off and keep shaving whenever it started to grow back. But that wasn't an option, I'd actually tried that for two days until my brothers made me stop. I looked in the mirror again, not looking at me but at the woman who had acted more like a mother for me in two days than my own mother had in ten years. I didn't want to see her stop smiling. “It looks great,” I lied.

**

Estelle

I didn't recognize the girl brushing her teeth in the mirror. The shoulder length blonde hair, the reddish skin, a little less fat on my cheeks, a little bit more hair on my eyebrows, who was I becoming? I took a few extra minutes plucking and sculpting my eyebrows, and applying makeup, focusing on lightening my red skin, with all the parties and get together's that day I wanted to look my best. Annie and Reese had already arrived for breakfast, then we'd go to a big lunch banquet with lots of city officials, and another big party with a few dozen other families for supper.

I wondered how Kota and Theresa would handle things. They could opt out, my parents never forced anyone to go, although they did encourage it. I usually enjoyed it, the food was good, some of my friends would be there, and I got to dress up.

Finishing up in the bathroom, I quickly put on my thigh length, sleeveless, emerald green dress, with a lighter shade of green leggings for the cold. A matching velvet coat with elbow length sleeves kept me warm and added a bit more style to it. I put on an ornate silver necklace and small dangling earrings. I left off my belt and bracelets, they did not match the dress at all and there shouldn't be any need for them. Looking in the mirror again, I could see myself once more.

Hurrying downstairs, I saw Theresa was already up wearing fashionable tight jeans and a long, pink sweater. Her straw blond hair was done up in a fancy french braid, and she had on some nice looking jewelry. Annie and Reese both shook my hand, telling me how pretty I was, and causing me to blush. We sat at the table as Dad finished putting the eggs, toast, waffles, and cut fruit on the table.

As Dad sat down, Mom came in with Kota. Theresa's jaw dropped and I'm pretty sure mine did to when we saw the tom boy. She was wearing dark slacks that were loose around the legs, and just a little tight on her hips, so she showed her figure without flaunting it. A greyish blue shirt with a scalloped collar, hinting at her cleavage, and a short sleeve coat the same colour as her slacks, didn't quite hug her body. Her long dark hair had a side braid that gave it some nice layers and volume while keeping it off of her face as it fell like a waterfall down her back. She looked like a very pretty, young woman. The way she played with her hands and stared at the ground didn't help the image much, but no one would laugh at her clothes or her appearance.

Reese got up right away, putting his hands on her shoulders and beamed. “Kota, you look wonderful!”

“Thank you,” she whispered, the blood rushing to her cheeks.

Theresa was next giving Kota a huge hug, “Oh my god! I've never seen you dressed up before, you look so hot!”

For a moment Kota tensed up, but then she relaxed and patted her friend on the back an honest smile coming to her lips. It seemed like the two were back to normal at least. Everyone else commented on her clothes, nothing over the top, I just told her the clothes looked good on her, which was true and probably wouldn't embarrass her.

Finally we all sat down to the serious business of eating. Theresa looked up from her eggs a little nervously. “So at the big party thing, what exactly are we suppose to do? I've never been to anything important.”

Before Mom or Dad could answer, Kota was speaking. “Stand around listening to some speeches and toasts, eat a lot of food, smile a lot and don't say anything embarrassing. As long as you look like you're having a good time time everyone will be pretty happy with you.” She looked around the table, as Dad started to chuckle. “What? I went to a few parties before.”

Giving her an encouraging smile, I nodded in agreement. “Kota's right. It shouldn't be too boring though. There will be a bunch of people our age there, and as long as you can talk about music or movies, you'll have something to talk about. And the food is always good.”

“Really? What if they ask where I'm from, or about my family?” Theresa asked.

“Just tell them that you're a family friend of ours and you're visiting for Christmas. Don't tell them you're a mutant, but anything else is fine,” Dad told her.

“As long as you relax and enjoy the food everything will be fine, Theresa. We've brought lots of teenagers to events like these and it's never been a problem,” Mom encouraged her. “Just follow Kota and Estelle's lead if you get nervous.”

“But what about the silver wear? What spoon should I use for soup, the movies always seem to make that important?” Theresa kept panicking.

“Start on the outside and work your way in,” Kota said.

“And if you're you're not sure, take a few seconds to admire the food, and then look at Kota or me to see what we're using,” I offered.

She took a deep breath to calm herself, then looked at Kota and I. “Ok, I think I can handle it. But you guys have to help me if I run into trouble. Promise?”

“Definitely!” I said.

Kota patted her on the back. “That's what friends are for.”

The talk shifted to other things, funny stories, plans for Christmas, and things like that. As we ate, I noticed that Theresa was acting completely normally, as if she didn't have a care in the world. Every few minutes she'd look at Kota out of the corner of her eye, as if making sure the girl was alright. My opinion of the bubbly, hug loving girl went up several notches.

**

There were about five hundred people at the Christmas lunch, every city council member and their family, provincial and federal members of parliament for Edmonton, business people, group leaders, the chief of police and a number of other officers, several reporters, and anyone who was anyone. My parents were invited because as the personal assistants of the only full time superheroes, they had a special place in the city hierarchy, even so we were seated near the back, and when we arrived only a handful of reporters bothered to take pictures of us. Which suited Kota and Theresa just fine, they didn't seem to have any idea what to do as the camera's flashed and shouted a few questions at my parents about Fly By and Prairie Sun. I simply smiled and waved at the camera, taking the attention away from the two girls.

Once inside we had to go through a metal detector, and there were a lot more police officers than I was used to seeing at an event like this. Probably because of what had happened in Vancouver, no one wanted to take any chances. I was really happy to know they were taking things seriously, one attempted sacrifice was enough for me.

When that was over with we got in line to shake the mayors and other elected officials hands. This was the most boring part of the party, and I would have been quite happy to do without it, but it was part of the ritual. I just wished that there were some of my friends close by to talk to, unfortunately they were well ahead of us or behind us. So I just pointed out different people to Kota and Theresa, saying who they were and commenting on their clothes with Theresa. Kota silently rolled her eyes and tried not to yawn.

Twenty minutes later we were free to wander around a bit talking with friends before lunch started. I headed off to a group of girls I knew with the others in tow. My friends had to do a double take when they saw me because of all my changes.

“El, is that you?” Wendy, a girl I'd gone to public school with for seven years asked.

“Yeah, its me, Wendy. Decided I wanted a change and went a little nuts,” I joked.

Taylor, another old friend, reached out to touch my hair. “Oh my god, I can't believe you cut your hair. I couldn't do that!”

“It's nothing,” I lied. “If I don't like it I'll just grow it out again. Anyways, these are some friends of my family, Theresa and Kota.”

Introductions were made, and Theresa and I jumped into the conversation about Beyonce, Nelly Furtado, Justin Timberlake and other singers. I noticed Kota miming shooting herself in the head, before wandering away. She seemed to be doing alright so I didn't say anything.

**

Enough time had passed for shaking hands and making connections so the mayor called for everyone to take their seats. Theresa and I had to scramble a little to find Kota, since she didn't know where our table was. I was shocked a second time, when I saw her talking to a group of boys, she was smiling and playing with her hair, nodding in agreement with something one of the guys had said.

“Kota, it's time to listen to the speeches,” I said, interrupting their conversation about some video game.

“Oh joy,” she said. “Bye guys, maybe we can talk later.”

As we walked away, the guys were quick to agree and ask for her number.

Theresa was smiling. “So you weren't sure if you liked guys?”

“We were just talking. We like the same video games and stuff, and Jonathon wants to learn Parkour this summer,” Kota said.

Theresa and I shared a look. “Ok, whatever you say Kota,” Theresa said.

“Really, we were just talking. I don't even know if I like boys,” she insisted.

As Kota proclaimed her non-sexuality, I was diplomatic and shut up.

Reaching the table, got to sit through a short speech from the mayor, and then began eating while some local bands and singers performed. The turkey and ham were really good, the vegetables a little overcooked, and the soup was fantastic, but the dessert was best of all, a piece of chocolate cake dripping with chocolate sauce and a wonderful vanilla ice cream beside it.

They had placed us at a table with two other families, they hadn't paid much attention to our ages so there were a brother and sister under ten on one side, and a seventeen year old boy on the other. That was a bit of a bust, and the three of us mostly talked to each other, making fun of a really bad singer who tried to modernize 'Silent Night', and saying how cute one male singer was to Kota's discomfort.

After lunch was over, Mom and Dad excused themselves, leaving us alone to listen to more speeches. We mostly ignored them, until Mom and Dad stepped out on stage, with Prairie Sun and Fly By.

I chuckled as Theresa and Kota did a double take, seeing my parents, looking like regular everyday people, standing at the side of the stage just visible to the audience, while they were also in their superhero identity waving and mugging to the audience. It was actually pretty easy. They had purchased a devise that gave an illusion of my parents civilian identity, and could do basic things like avoid obstacles and wave people away. It let them appear in two places at once, and they made sure that there were people in the know to play interference for them so the illusions weren't discovered by someone asking a question or bumping into them.

It helped throw off potential suspicion when they had video evidence of them being together at the same time.

My parents gave a rousing speech about the spirit of Christmas, working together, goodwill towards men, and other things, donated a check for a hundred thousand dollars to the local food banks, and encouraged everyone to give what they could for a good cause. Then they and my illusionary parents left the stage talking quietly to each other. Fifteen minutes later, Mom and Dad were back in their seats, getting looks of awe from the little kids.

Another hour of speeches and music, and it was time to go home and prepare for supper.

**

Kota

Sitting in my room relaxing after the big banquet, still in the fancy clothes I was beginning to like a little more, I thought about the lunch that had ended about an hour ago. It had been about what I thought, a little more interesting than the country club and company banquets my parents had taken me to, but only that the food was better and the people more important. That wasn't really what I was thinking about.

The important thing was the note in my hand. It had a number on it, a boys number.

Simply getting inside the hall had been an experience. The photographers taking our pictures, had made me want to hide. I had an image of my parents and brothers seeing the pictures and coming to get me, forcing me to wear pretty dresses again, locking me in my room. Mrs. Young had put a reassuring hand on my shoulder to get me moving. Estelle seemed to be in her element, waving to the cameras excitedly, getting their attention focused on her instead of me. It had been enough to let me hurry past the gauntlet.

Then after shaking the mayors hand, Estelle had taken us to see her friends. The talk of singers and songs I didn't like, was worse than listening to a Powers Theory lecture. So I'd wandered away looking for something interesting. And I'd found it with a blond haired boy talking to his friends.

I'd heard Jonathon talking about wanting to learn parkour. He'd been really excited about it, talking about learning some moves from the net, and practicing in his garage. But as I listened he was making a lot of mistakes about the moves, what the purpose was, and why you should try it. I hadn't been shy, I hadn't even thought that I was a girl, it just seemed natural to introduce myself and start talking about it. They'd paid attention to me when I explained to them how to do some moves, and described some of my better runs. They hadn't really seemed to be just looking at me as a pretty girl, but actually listening to me. I'd felt normal for the first time in a long time.

And then Jonathon had asked if we could meet later. When I told him I was just in town for the holiday, he'd seemed disappointed, and seeing the crestfallen expression actually made me feel bad, I liked seeing him smile. So I took his number, and told him I'd try to come for the summer, and maybe we could talk sometime before we left. When he gave me his big goofy grin, I'd felt warm inside.

The other guys started talking about hockey, which wasn't really my thing, but Chicago had its own team so I could follow along and not sound clueless. That and then video games had distracted me from the weird feelings, at least until Theresa and Estelle had found me playing with my hair learning about the newest games I hadn't had a chance to play. And apparently playing with your hair means you like a guy.

I didn't know that.

Now that we were back home with a few hours to relax before the dinner party I just wanted to think. So with a few minutes of peace I laid down, after taking off the jacket so it didn't wrinkle, and tried to sort out my feelings.

When I first got to Whitman, I'd thought I'd have some fun watching the girls in the showers and things. Sex was the farthest thing from my mind after what my... brothers had done, and I didn't have the right equipment, but I could admire from a distance. Some of the girls were pretty, some were beautiful in a creepy kind of way, and for the first week or two I'd found it nice. But then it had become boring, even embarrassing, trying to catch little glances. Sure they were half dressed and occasionally naked, but the girls I was interested in had the same things I did, what was the point in looking?

I brought my knees up to my chin. I'd found myself looking at boys, their chests, their butts, other parts. I'd told myself I was jealous, I believed it. When I heard Theresa talking about her boyfriend, or other girls talking about cute guys, my mind kind of recoiled. But I kept listening, it was for research I had to fake it as a girl so I needed to know what they talked about. I'd even believed it.

But could I really like boys?

Someone knocked on my door.

“Come in,” I said.

Therese came in, not wearing her fake skin. She said it got itchy after a few hours, so she her regular unnatural black, until it was time to get ready again. “Hey Kota, how ya doing?”

“Confused. But better than I've felt in months.” It was nice that she was talking to me again. She'd had a freak out thinking I'd been lying to her and had been watching her naked. I don't know how she'd worked it out, I wasn't up to explaining much to her, but she'd seem to be cool with everything that morning. Since she was my best... only friend, I'd almost cried when she'd hugged me in her overly enthusiastic way and gushed about my clothes.

She sat down beside me. “Confused about boys?”

I bit my lip not willing to admit it.

She gave me a wicked smile. “Maybe I should be worried about you making eyes at Tim? If you try to steal him away from me, I'll fill your underwear with sand, while you're wearing it.”

I looked at her like she was crazy. I'd met Timothy who was a nice guy, but he was weird looking, with crystal plates creating a mosaic across his skin. He could hypnotize people with them, sometimes accidentally if he was walking around shirtless, which made him doubly weird in my book. “Your boyfriend is safe from me. Believe me.”

She gave a superior smile. “Good. Anyways we both know I'm much prettier than you are, so there's no way he'd leave me in the dust.”

“I'll be sure to let everyone in Whitman know that you're the prettiest, and Dickinson. I wonder if I can get you a trophy? Or a crown might be better. What do they call those little crowns that women wear?”

“A tiara. And don't you dare tell people that,” she said, poking me with a finger. “If you did I'd have Teri and Venus Inc. breaking down my door trying to get me to do pictures for them.”

“Hey no messing with the clothes! I actually like these now.” When my friend finally stopped poking me, I looked at her seriously. “How do you know if you like a guy?”

Theresa looked like she was about to give a quick answer, but paused realizing I was being serious. “Well, when I saw Timothy, I thought he looked so good. The way his crystals lit up like rainbows, his strong arms, his rainbow eyes. Even his ass looked nice. I couldn't stop thinking about him, and when he looked at me I was so nervous but really happy at the same time, especially when he smiled at me in class and offered to help me with my Spanish.”

I hadn't been nervous, but seeing Jonathon smile had made me happy. And I was thinking about teaching him parkour in the summer if I came back. I groaned, pulling a pillow over my head. I wasn't going to cry or complain. There was nothing certain yet, I liked parkour and if I could teach someone who was friendly and treated me like one of the guys, great. It didn't mean I liked him, liked him.

It didn't.

**

Estelle had changed into more casual tight pink jeans and a matching pink sweater when her parents called us to the entrance way. Theresa was wearing the same outfit she'd worn earlier, and I was wearing black jeans and a black turtleneck sweater. Theresa and Mrs. Young had helped me pick the clothes up the other day. The jeans were a little too tight for my taste, but there was still space between my skin and the denim, and the sweater covered my butt, so it wasn't bad. I just had to tell myself I'd worn jeans and sweaters as a boy, these were just a different style.

“I love your outfit Kota. It goes really well with your hair,” Estelle said, smiling.

“Thanks. You look good to. Very... pink,” I finished lamely, after trying to think of a good compliment.

Theresa giggled. “When complimenting clothes, just say it matches their eyes, skin or hair, or it makes them look fantastic.”

What was wrong with just saying you liked the clothes? It was easier being a guy.

“You know,” Estelle said, looking at my face critically, “if you put on a bit of red lipstick and some blush on your-”

“NO!” I practically snarled, remembering how happy my brothers had been getting the beautician to put makeup on me.

She jumped back in surprise and a bit of fear. “Sorry! I didn't mean anything!”

Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I didn't let myself look at her. She had been trying to help. “It's ok. I just don't like makeup. You didn't know.”

Mrs. Young came walking in, followed by her husband. “Is everything alright?” she asked, eyeing both of us.

Estelle looked at me cautiously, letting me know wordlessly she wasn't going to say anything. “Nothing important. You look good, Mrs. Young. I... love how your shirt goes with your glasses,” I said, looking at Theresa and Estelle for support.

They both nodded approvingly. I had just been guessing that her silvery blouse matched her wrap around shades well enough to compliment.

“Thank you, Kota. I wasn't sure if it they would go well together, but I took a chance. All of you girls look wonderful, but I think you need just a little more to get the perfect look.” She held out a hand and Mr. Young placed a small jewelry box in it. “The black looks good on you, Kota, but you need some colour. I hope you it's not too much to ask you to wear this necklace.”

Gingerly I took box from her and opened it up. It was a silver necklace with a finally crafted bird erupting from roaring flames. “It's beautiful,” I whispered.

“It's a phoenix. When I saw it I thought it would be perfect for you. I hope it's not too girly,” she said.

It wasn't girly, it was gorgeous. It looked powerful, a little scary even, like it would fly away at any second wreathed in flames. I couldn't speak, so I just shook my head, taking it out of the box very carefully. Mrs. Young took it from my hands, and clipped it around my neck so it hung just a little below my neck.

“And for you Theresa, Steve thought you'd like this pin.” Mrs. Young said, while Mr. Young gave her a multicoloured crystal flower that was almost finished blossoming. I didn't know a thing about crystals, but the pink petals, green stem and leaves, and the sparkling dew, didn't look like it was simple coloured glass.

Theresa squealed and put it on with a loud thank you, before running the nearest mirror to look at it. Five seconds later she was back giving hugs and squealing some more.

“Now Estelle, we love what you've done with your hair, and we thought this would emphasize it a little bit.” Mrs. Young took a larger box from her husband and pulled out a brilliant blue and gold butterfly hair clip, studded with tiny diamonds. She almost gingerly put it in Estelle's hair, carefully deciding the best place before she touched her daughters hair.

Watching closely I saw Estelle wince when her Moms fingers pressed against her scalp, and Mrs. Young pulled her hand away as soon the clip was in place. I felt a surge of sympathy for Estelle for the first time. I felt even more for her mother. My mother hadn't cared about me, so we had never been close, never hugged except when in front of other people, and certainly never kissed after I was six. But I could see how much Mrs. Young wanted to touch her daughter, the way her hand hovered over Estelle, not quite touching, the warm smile fading a little, taking a moment to straighten Estelle's sweater careful to only touch the fabric and not put much if any pressure on Estelle herself.

I could finally understand why Estelle was jealous.

With our outfits ready, we threw on our coats and headed for the garage.

**

The party was being held at an actual mansion. It was only three stories tall, but it was about twice as wide as the Young house, and probably half again on the sides. There was an actual parking lot just to the side of the house where about a dozen vehicles were already parked. We got out and an actual valet came out of the house to take our names and drive the car a hundred feet.

We stepped inside and were greeted by the LeBlanc's, who were big shots in some oil company. While the adults made some jokes, Estelle, Theresa and I were directed to head to the basement where the teenagers were having there own party.

The basement was better then most houses, just down the stairs was a big room with couches, a stereo playing modern Christmas songs, tables with snacks and drinks that was being quickly depleted. An open door showed a few teenagers playing video games on a huge screen, another was playing some movie, and I heard more stuff going on down the hallway.

Like at the banquet, Estelle introduced Theresa and I to some of her friends. I didn't have much to say when they started talking about gossip, so I wandered off to grab a drink and a piece of cake with Theresa. Somehow Theresa found a girl to talk to about a chick flick with, so I was left to my own devices. As usual I was left feeling alone and adrift in a crowd of people I didn't know, not knowing how to act.

Finishing the cake, I took my soda into the game room.

There were actually three consoles each one playing a different game, heading over to a fighting game, a guy stood up and gave me his spot on the couch. “Thanks,” I said.

“My pleasure. I haven't seen you around before, I'm Tyler,” he said, smiling with perfect teeth.

“Kota. I'm just visiting some friends of the family for Christmas.”

He sat down on the arm of the couch, a little too close for my comfort. “Let me guess, you're staying with the Young family.”

My brow furrowed. “How the hell did you guess that?”

“They're always bringing family friends to these parties. Not many of them are as pretty as you are though.”

I hated him.

“So... what can you tell me about Mr. and Mrs. Young?” I was desperate to change the conversation, and I kind of wanted to know what others thought of them.

Tyler seemed to realize his attempt at flattery had died a painful death. “You should know more about them then I do. I just know the rumours.”

“I just met them a few days ago, so I'm interested in the rumours.”

“Ok,” he said, looking at me a little strangely. “Well I guess the big thing is that every few years people will say they're actually Fly By and Prairie Sun, it never gets very far. When they first started working with the heroes, there was actually an expose about it. Then the Young's had a joint interview on live TV with the heroes, and sued the tv station for slander and making them a target for supervillains. That's how they made their first few million.” He smirked a little, I wasn't sure why.

“They've made a fortune from playing the stock market. Someone actually claimed that Mrs. Young was using psychic powers to make so much money. That got the MCO involved and everything. When the MCO said she wasn't psychic, they took the guy who pointed the finger at her to the human rights commission for discrimination.”

“Wait, they think she's a mutant?” I asked.

He gave me another odd look. “Yeah. It's not talked about, but it's not exactly a secret at least for people who know her. Why do you think she always wears those sunglasses?”

“Oh. What are her powers? I haven't really seen her do anything.”

“My parents saw her do something with light once. It wasn't much just a couple of sparks from her fingers she used once when the power went out and they were in the basement. Pretty lame power.” Tyler gave me a smile, letting me know how happy he was to be showing off his knowledge.

“Yeah, I can see why she wouldn't want to show off if that's all she can do.” I knew from watching the gadgeteers and devisors at Whateley how easy faking a little light show would be. And doing a live interview would be doable if they got a wizard or two shapeshifters to help out. I wondered what Mr. Anderson would make of their tactics to keep a secret identity while having her still admitting to being a mutant.

“And no one minds?” I asked, not quite believing it.

He shrugged. “They work with superheroes, and through them know almost every official in the province by their first name, along with a lot of other movers and shakers. They donate at least a million dollars a year to charity and let people know about it. And if anyone says anything too nasty, they have their lawyers on speed dial. No one wants to look at them cross eyed because of the shit storm they can cause. My parents wish they had half the influence those two do.”

“Wow. I just thought they were really nice.”

He put his hand on my shoulder, opening his mouth to say something else. I grabbed his hand and shoved it away. He looked surprised and a little annoyed but didn't say anything, as I glared at him. Fortunately for me, one of the guys playing the video game had died bloodily and threw down his controller in disgust. Seeing a chance to get away from Tyler the flirt, I didn't quite shout, “Hey can I try?”

**

An hour later with a lot of kills to my name, I had to hand over the controller and take a bathroom break. There was some cheering as I left the room, half the audience loved how I'd cleaned the floor with all opponents, the other half were happy I was leaving.

As I left the bathroom that was bigger then my dorm and at the far end of the basement away from the rec areas, three older girls came up to me, spreading out so I couldn't get away easily. “So you're the hopeless case this year?” the redheaded girl who was also the biggest asked.

“Uh, what?”

“The charity victim who's parents don't want her,” she sneered. “We always get one or two of you whenever Estelle comes to a party.”

That hit too close to home. Something caught in my throat keeping me from speaking.

“I think you're going to make her cry Amanda,” the brunette said. “Did you get those clothes from a charity bin?”

“Get out of my way,” I said.

The red head, Amanda, laughed. “Why? You want to go back to your video games, being adored by the gamer geeks.”

“I don't think so,” the last girl with dyed blue hair said. “I think she's more a dike. She and that other girl with the weird face are probably lovers, that's why she isn't at home for Christmas.”

I didn't want to start a fight at the party, it could cause Mrs. Young trouble, but I really wanted to punch them. Shutting up, I pushed past them and headed back to the party. Amanda grabbed my sleeve and pulled, I felt it rip a little.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing!” I shouted furiously. I didn't really like the sweater, but it was a gift from Mrs. Young and the bitch had damaged it. I had to stop myself from punching her, Mr. Anderson's words came to mind, 'Discretion keeps you alive, fists can kill you.'

“Oh I'm sorry, I didn't know your clothes were so badly made,” Amanda said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as her eyes danced with glee.

I heard people coming towards us, probably because they heard my shouting. Estelle pushed her way to the front. “What's going on? Oh hell, Amanda what have you done now?” she asked.

“We were just talking, then she walked past and her sweater caught on something. She really should get some better clothes.”

I didn't take my eyes off the girl. “You liar! You grabbed me and ripped it on purpose.”

“Can't we go one party without you trying something?” Estelle asked, stepping in front of me. Great, now I was being defended by a girl who was younger than me. I wanted to shrivel up and die of embarrassment.

“What can I say, I don't like freaks like you. And your 'friends' should stay in their place.”

I smelled ozone, and saw Estelle's hair start to rise like it was full of static, I'd seen that happen before when sparks shot out of her hands the previous night. Definitely not something that would be good here. Grabbing her by the shoulders, I tried to get her attention on me. “Come on Estelle, really not worth it.”

Amanda made sure it didn't work. “Yes Estelle, go and run to your mother. She knows all about being a freak.”

A spark shocked my hand. Without really making a conscious decision, I swung past Estelle and punched Amanda in the stomach. It wasn't hard enough to do real damage, but for the skinny girl who wasn't expecting it, it was very painful. Amanda fell to the floor wailing.

Estelle turned to me looking shocked at what I had done, but her hair was flat again and there were no sparks, which was the most important thing.

With all eyes on me, and the sound of people running up the stairs calling for help, I just wanted to sink into the floor and die.

What would Mrs. Young say?

**

Estelle

I watched as Amanda rolled on the ground clutching her stomach. Punching her was something I'd wanted to do for a long time, but I'd never actually do it. Kota just stood there, fists at the ready, looking upset but determined to cause more mayhem if she had to.

Several adults came down the stairs as everyone else just watched, Mom and Dad were with them of course. Dad got between Kota and Amanda, taking in everything and making sure without actually touching that nothing seemed to be broken on the crying girl. Mom saw the look on Kota's face, grabbed her by the arm and marched back to the common room. Another guest Dr. Saxx, knelt down beside Amanda, and after checking with Amanda's mother who was shaking her hands and crying as loudly as her daughter that he could look her over.

He pulled up her shirt to look at her stomach, and after a moment poking and prodding a small bruise, he said she would be fine, but should take it easy for the rest of the night.

Amanda's father who was listening to everything, nodded his head gratefully that his daughter was fine and asked, very loudly, “What happened?!”

One of Amanda's friends, I thought her name was Kelly, spoke first. “We were just walking to the bathroom Mr. Price, when that girl said Amanda ripped her sweater! It was all her fault.”

I hadn't seen what had happened, but I had to speak up for Kota. “Kota was trying to walk away when she called my Mom and us freaks.”

“Even if that is so, and I have trouble believing that, there is no excuse for that girl to punch my daughter,” Mr. Price said.

“Let's ask Kota her side, shall we,” Dad said, gently pushing me off to the side.

We all walked into the main room where Kota was sitting beside Mom on the couch. The girl was as white as a ghost, and it looked like she was holding Mom's hand so tightly it would have hurt anyone else, but she looked up at the angry adults without cringing.

Mom stood up in front of Kota. “Mr. Price, I am very sorry abut what happened. I assure you that Kota will be punished for her actions.”

“That is hardly enough for assault, I should call the police.”

Dad stepped forward. “For a single punch, that may have been provoked?”

“Assault is assault. And I don't believe my daughter would dream of hurting another soul, unlike your... foster child.”

I snorted. Amanda would do something like that if she thought she thought she could get away with it. That earned me a glare from pretty much everyone, except Kota, who had somehow gotten even paler at hearing about calling the police. Theresa who was standing close by looked just as scared, pulling her phone out of her purse. I had no idea who she could think about phoning, but I knew Kota needed some support. I stepped up and grabbed Kota's hand.

“If you want to talk about assault, than certainly lets call the police. Damaging her sweater could be considered assault, and calling people freaks is definitely harassment,” Mom said.

Dad and Mr. Price both began talking over each other, getting louder with every word, when rescue came from the hosts of the parties, Mr. and Mrs. Grasse. “Excuse me, we are trying to have a Christmas party here,” Mrs. Grasse said, as her husband stepped between everyone. “Unless either of you want to call the police, I'm going to ask both of you to leave and sort it out in private.”

Mom and Mr. Price glared at each other, while Dad turned and began ushering us out. “I don't see any point in this going further. As my wife said, we will see that Kota is punished appropriately and will make sure she doesn't see Amanda in the future. Let's go. Kota, we will discuss this later.”

Mr. Price stomped off to see his wife and daughter as we headed up the stairs.

**

The car ride was silent. When Kota tried to talk, Mom told her to keep quiet in a tone of voice that had made criminals sit down and shut up. I was pretty hungry having only eaten some of the snacks rather than a real meal. From the growling stomachs everyone else seemed to be in the same situation.

We finally made it home, and were marched into the dining room. Mom made a quick call ordering in some Chinese food while Dad sat down and glared at the two of us, with Theresa caught in the crossfire because she was sitting so close to Kota it looked like they were joined at the hip.

Mom came back and sat down. Dad leaned forward. “What happened?”

Kota took a deep breath. “I was protecting Estelle.”

“What?!” I practically shouted.

She looked me in the eye. “When the girl... Amanda called your mom a freak, you started sparking a little, like last night. I didn't want them to find out you were a mutant.”

“Estelle, you've been using your power without being charged up?” Mom asked.

I turned to Mom. “Only when I get angry. I've kept it under control, mostly.”

Dad rubbed his temples. “Why didn't you tell us? This is serious, you could hurt someone if you're not careful.”

My eyes went to my shoes. It hadn't been that bad, just a few sparks sometimes at school and most of the time I knew they were coming and just ran to the bathroom or hid my hands in my desk. I didn't want people knowing about it at all. “I had it under control,” I finally muttered.

“Obviously you didn't if you were shooting sparks over a simple insult,” Mom said. “What do you think would happen if you suddenly began arcing in class?”

“It hasn't happened,” I whispered.

“It almost did tonight,” Dad said. “I'm calling Whateley tomorrow.”

“YOU CAN'T!” I yelled. I didn't want to leave my school or my friends. Not so suddenly, not like this.

“Estelle, you can't control your powers. You could hurt someone, at least at Whateley they'll be able to handle things if somethings goes wrong,” Dad told me.

I looked at Mom, but she was staring at her lap, refusing to look at me. I tried to think of some argument, something I could say to change his mind. A jolt of inspiration hit me. “Aren't you scared about what happened to Paragon?”

Dad suddenly looked nervous, and Mom was startled enough to look up. “What do you know about her?”

“She was murdered, because she was... was changing into a girl.” I had only heard Dad mention that the person was murdered, so I was taking a wild guess. I must have been close to the mark because Mom turned white. “If I go now, everyone will know I'm a girl turning into a boy.”

“She's right,” Kota said to my surprise. “There's a girl at school who was bullied pretty badly last year because she has a penis. She was even sent to the hospital pretty early in the term.”

Theresa twisted around. “You mean Ayla Goodkind? I thought it was just because she was a Goodkind.”

“No. I heard she changes for martial arts in the instructors room because of it. And she spent most of last year asking around to change her bit.”

“How did you learn that? I didn't even know that except for some gossip I thought was just a bunch of lies.”

“I listen. Especially to stuff like that,” Kota said quietly.

I jumped at the opportunity. “See! If I go now I'll be bullied and maybe worse. I can't go yet, not until I'm- I'm a boy.”

Dad looked like he was about to say something, when Mom put her hand on his and motioned to the stairs. “You three do something down here, quietly. When the food gets here use the cash in the kitchen and serve yourselves,” she said.

We nodded, and waited until they'd gone upstairs to talk.

“Thanks Kota. For everything,” I said.

“Welcome,” she said with a shrug.

“So... do you think you'll be coming to Whateley this term?” Theresa asked.

It was my turn to shrug. “I don't know. I don't want to, I want to finish the year here. But they're right, I could hurt someone.” Tears started to well up, all I'd wanted was to go for another few months as a normal girl, was that too much to ask?

Kota patted my back a little awkwardly and harder than I was used to. “You're mom will do what's right. And Whateley isn't bad, you'll do ok.”

“But what about the bullying and stuff?”

“It's not so bad, just avoid a few people and learn to stay in the background or defend yourself and it's a lot like regular high school,” Theresa assured me. “Sure some of the bullies can be really bad, but most of the time its just pushing, shoving and pranks. And you've got an advantage.”

“Really, like what?” I asked, not believing I could have a single advantage considering what I was turning into.

“You're part of the Fly By and Prairie Sun club,” she explained, which didn't actually explain anything.

“What?”

“Do you know how many kids your parents have helped send to Whateley?” she asked. “Right now there's six of us from freshmen to seniors. We're not a club or anything, but your parents have let us know that if something gets out of hand they expect us to help each other out. If we know that Ron, a junior, needs cash for a school uniform because he destroyed his last one, again, we'll pool our pocket money together and help him out. If someone has been giving me a hard time, the others will get together and talk with the person. We don't really hang out or anything, but we keep an eye on each other. Now think about what we'll do for you because of your parents.”

I didn't really know what to say about that. “You guys really help each other?”

She nodded. “For Ron and I, your parents saved our lives. For the others, they helped them out when things were looking bad, and a few of them talk about you to, even if Phil said you are a lot like his annoying little sister. He usually smiles when he says that. So yeah, if your parents ask us to do something, we'll do it. We owe them.”

“So that's how you got TNT off your back,” Kota said, sounding surprised.

“And why they didn't go after you,” Theresa said. “I asked the gang to put in a word for you when they went to thre- ah, talk to the morons.”

“Thank you,” Kota said, blushing and looking at her knees.

“So it might not be as bad as I think?” I asked hopefully.

Theresa leaned over Kota to pat my knee. “We'll try to make it ok. Just don't go looking for fights. Some of the kids, especially the ultraviolents are scary. But most of them are ok. If you get on someones bad side, they might beat you up or give you a hard time, but it will be a one time deal unless you keep annoying them. And if you keep out of the way you won't have any problems. Kota is so shy, she hasn't gotten into any trouble at all.”

“I just want to be left alone. I'm not really that shy,” Kota protested.

“Sure. I believe you,” Theresa said with a grin. “Anyways, I think we can safely say that the Fly By and Prairie Sun group will have a new member as soon as we get back to Whateley, so you'll have plenty of people watching your back.”

We both looked at her in confusion.

“Kota, after seeing how Mrs. Young has taken you under her wing, I think everyone is going to get an email asking us to help you out if you need it. And when you finally get there Estelle, I'll bet you twenty your Mom will ask us to keep an eye on you in person.”

“I'm not taking that bet,” I said, knowing Mom would do just that.

The conversation kind of died after that, so we turned on the tv to watch some Christmas specials and waited for the food. When the food finally arrived, we piled the food onto our plates, saving two generous portions for Mom and Dad, and returned to the tv room to eat off of tv trays as we watched the Grinch steal Christmas.

We had just finished putting the dishes into the dish washer, when Mom and Dad called me upstairs. With a fearful look at the two girls who I was starting to consider friends, I headed upstairs.

Mom and Dad were in the office they shared, and from their expressions they'd had one of their arguments. They rarely shouted at each other, and they never argued in front of me, but I knew the signs. From the tight lips, narrowed eyes, the flaring of Moms nostrils, and the way Dad clenched his hands, this couldn't have been an easy discussion.

“Estelle, please sit down,” Dad said.

I sat on the leather couch that was there for visitors and relaxing.

“You're Mother and I have talked about it, and we've reached a decision.”

I bit my lip. I was going to Whateley, I knew it. They were afraid I was going to hurt someone and I had to leave for everyone's safety. I fought back the tears.

“You're going to train very hard over the rest of the break. If you can prove to us you have control of your powers, you can keep going to school until the end of the year. If you still have outbursts, you'll go with Theresa and Kota to Whateley,” he told me.

My jaw dropped. I had a chance of really saying goodbye to my friends and not having anyone thinking I was a freak. It was a small chance, but I'd take it.

I gave them each a quick hug, thanking them and giving them air kisses.

The next day I had to call my friends and tell them I couldn't see them. I really wanted to, we'd planned to see a couple of movies and relax to some music, but learning how to control my powers was more important. So after breakfast Mom took Theresa and Kota out, while Dad and I went to his office.

His office was strange. In one corner was his computer on a basic 50 dollar desk, with a filing cabinet beside it on one side, and a scanner, fax machine, copier and printer on the other side. There was one chair for guests, that was Mom ninety percent of the time. The rest of the room was bare. There was a small stone bowl, with some incense beside it in a small wooden box, that was it, the floor was padded for sitting on.

“Sit down, Estelle, and make yourself comfortable, but keep your back straight,” Dad told me.

While I got comfy sitting cross legged on the soft floor, Dad placed the incense in the bowl and lit it. Sitting across from me, also cross legged, he began to talk softly. “Close your eyes. Breath normally through your nose. Feel your breath, the way your chest expands and contract. The cool air entering your sinuses, warming up as it goes towards your lungs. Now smell the smoke, let it fill you.”

I followed his instructions. I recognized the cedar incense, it smelled a little like pencils, reminding me of camping trips I'd take with my parents in the summer. My mind began to wander, thinking about the trip to the Rockies last summer, and wondering if we would go camping next summer with Uncle Herb like we'd planned. That got me thinking about school, and my breathing sped up.

Dad noticed I wasn't thinking calm thoughts. “Focus on your breathing. Let your thoughts go. Your mind wants to chase them like a dog chasing a ball, but focus on your nostrils, on the breath. Breath naturally, there is nothing wrong here.”

I thought about my nose. How it flared a little bit with each breath, how something was tickling it making me want to scratch it. When I did scratch it, I thought about what it would be like to have a mustache. Would it be itchy? Hot? Scratchy? Was it hard to shave? I shaved my legs every three or four months once I turned twelve, so I knew how to shave, but putting a razor by my face seemed like a good way to get cut.

Shaking my head I thought about my breathing again.

I won't bore you with how long I sat there, trying to think about my breathing, while the scent of cedar filled the room, and my Dad ensured I stayed focused with his calm words. But when we finally stopped, I was amazed that it was almost lunchtime.

“How do you feel?” he asked, putting a stone lid on the bowl.

“I don't know. How should I feel?”

He gave a half smile, “However you want, this isn't a science. Let's get some lunch.”

“What would you like me to make?” I asked as we headed for the kitchen.

“Use your imagination.”

He sat down at the island, while I dug through the fridge, pulling out some eggs, vegetables, and left over pork chops from the night before. I started chopping, them up while Dad watched me.

“What are you most afraid of?” he asked me suddenly.

I pretended not to hear him.

“When I manifested your grandparents didn't take it very well,” he said. I knew about all of that, according to Mom they'd only reconciled after I was born, and despite that things were still very cool when they visited once a year. “I went from being a sickly, little guy with bad skin and horrible asthma and within five months I was strong, tough, I could fly and shot invisible waves of energy from my hand. But those first few months were terrifying. My eyes changed colour first. Mutants were even less common then, and the eye change wasn't widely known. I was taken to dozens of doctors trying to find out what was wrong. Your grandma had me convinced I was going to die. Then I started growing so quickly and my muscles didn't grow quite as quickly as my bones, the regular, minor aches and pains of being a growing teenager, were excruciating for me. I'd spend whole days in bed, wishing the pain would stop.”

He got up to get a glass of water, while I kept getting the food ready.

“Grandma held near constant vigils by my bedside, certain I wasn't going to make it through the night. And I spent a lot of time in hospitals, I was so certain I was going to die, I wrote a will.” He chuckled at that morbid thought. “One day it got so bad, I knew, absolutely knew I was going to die. Then I blew out the entire outside wall of my room.”

“You never told me about that,” I said, checking a pan on the stove.

Dad shrugged. “I didn't want to worry you more than I had to. Anyways, the police were called, they found Grandma and I hysterical, with a demolished wall and a shattered tree. Fortunately the MCO wasn't really important back then, and they called up some superheroes from Vancouver and I got sent to Whateley. Until those heroes talked to me, I was certain my life was over and even if I survived the pain I'd be even more of an invalid than I already was.”

The vegetables and pork hit the hot pan with a crackling sizzle, salt, pepper, chives and thyme followed. “Are there any stories about Mom that I should know about.”

“Not really. She changed, thought about robbing banks, decided it was stupid and called the Dominion Heroes HQ demanding to be let on the team.”

I smiled a little, Mom always made the story sound better, but at least Dad didn't take half an hour to tell it, while acting out the motions.

“So you're telling me I shouldn't panic?” I asked.

“Nope,” he said quickly, then stopped with his head cocked to the side. “Well yes, kind of. Panicking doesn't do anything except make you stupid. You know that, we've told you about it enough times. But being afraid, now that, that is fine. If you weren't afraid I'd be worried. When I changed, I was terrified, and it took months, to recover, even after I was told what was happening to me.”

“Mom wasn't scared.”

“True, but your mother is insane,” he explained. “A wonderful woman and mother, but you've seen how she acts while on the job. She's an adrenaline junky and has been for as long as I've know her. If you told her the world was going to end tomorrow, she'd be running to the front line with a smile.”

I poured the scrambled eggs into the pan, adding some cummin, while nodding in agreement.

“Now, you definitely aren't your mother, you're way too cautious for that. I hope to god you aren't me,” he said with a wry grin. “So what are you most afraid of?”

Stirring the eggs, I kept my head down. Still not answering, I put some of the raw vege's I'd cut up into a bowl, quickly buttered some bread, and scooped the scrambled eggs onto the plates. It wasn't a traditional lunch, but it would taste good. Putting a plate in front of Dad, I sat on the other side, so I could look at him.

“I won't be me,” I whispered.

“Who are you? The body or the mind?”

“Does it make a difference?”

He held up his glass. “We have a glass of water, it's just water surrounded by glass, nothing special.” Grabbing a mixing bowl from a cupboard, he poured the water into it. “Now it's water in a metal bowl. Has it changed? A little, it's not as deep now, it's spread out a little more, but it's still water. It hasn't magically turned into juice or alcohol. The basic shape is different, but that's all. It's still wet, it's still clean and refreshing. You still need it to survive. So I'll ask you again, are you the body or the mind?”

“How long did it take you to think of that?” I asked.

Dad chuckled. “Your mother and I have been working on it all month, how was it?”

“I'm still afraid.”

“Are you panicking?”

I thought about it for a while, Dad let me. When we were both finished eating, I told him the truth. “Yeah, I am.”

“You're definitely my little girl,” he said with a sigh. “On the 27th, we're having a guest come to visit us. You don't know her, but she's like you and Kota, she was a boy and now she's a girl. Your Mom and I want you to talk to her, with Kota if you can, without her if you want. She can answer some of your questions, and maybe help you realize that you'll still be you.”

Taking our plates to the dishwasher, I quietly said, “I hope so.”

“Come on Princess, lets go do a light workout and then I can teach you some breathing exercises.”

**

I woke up on Christmas morning in the usual way, with Christmas carols blaring from the living room. Being almost fourteen, I didn't rush downstairs, instead I quickly did my business in the bathroom, threw on my slippers and housecoat, and walked, a little quickly, downstairs where my parents were waiting for me, with mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table. The tree was surrounded by presents, including a large trunk that could be pulled along like a suitcase.

Blowing my parents a kiss, I grabbed my mug and was about to sit down when I remembered something. “Do Theresa and Kota, know to come out?”

“I told them last night, and knocked on their doors five minutes ago,” Mom said.

The doorbell rang, I looked at my parents in question, they just smiled and waved for me to get the door. Curious, I headed for the entrance way, wrapping my housecoat around me a little tighter in anticipation of the bitterly cold air. Looking through the peephole, I started to grin, and threw open the door, flinging myself into Uncle Herbs arms.

“Merry Christmas, Kitten! Let me in, it's cold enough to freeze my fur off,” he said, lifting me up and trudging inside. Not letting me down he put down his enormous suitcase, slipped off his boots and coat, easily shifting me from arm to arm.

“What are you doing here?” I asked kissing his nose.

“Vancouver is too damp, so I thought I'd freeze my butt off here. Where is everyone?” he asked, grabbing his suitcase again.

“Living room,” I answered simply, rubbing my face in his cold fur. We made our way to the presents, and I heard a gasp as we came in.

“Theresa!” Uncle Herb roared. “How's Whateley treating you?”

“It's great, Super Bear. I've gotten so good at controlling my powers, and the teachers are great!” Theresa said. “Oh this is my roommate, Kota.”

Kota was holding her hot chocolate, and stared wide eyed up at Uncle Herb.

“Hello Kota,” Uncle Herb said slowly.

She gave herself a shake, and smiled a little. “Hi, Super Bear.”

“Both of you can call me Herb, or Uncle Herb if you want,” he told them. “We're at home, and I've never been one for a secret identity, it never seemed to suit me for some reason.”

That got a chuckle from everyone, while Mom got up to give him a hug, and Dad patted his broad back, giving him a huge stein of hot chocolate. “It's great to see you Herb. How was the drive?”

“Easy, my modified SUV just blasted the snow away. But enough of that, it's Christmas, and I have presents.” He put me down on the couch, and opened up his suitcase. “If you don't mind I'll start the proceedings.”

“Feel free,” my parents said.

Opening up his suitcase, Uncle Herb pulled out two small presents, handing them over to Kota and Theresa. “I know girls love phones, so I thought you'd both like these. They're gadgets, so don't worry they'll keep working as long as you don't decide to jump on them or something.”

They ripped open the gold packaging, revealing two pink cellphones, that were about as large as their hands with a glass screen instead of buttons. Uncle Herb showed them how to turn them on, and took two minutes setting up passwords and explaining the basics, including how to get the wifi working. Theresa was thrilled with it, and Kota seemed happy, except for a very small wrinkling of the nose when she saw the colour.

While Theresa was hugging Uncle Herb and telling him how awesome the phone was, I leaned over and whispered in Kota's ear, "Black nail polish will cover up the pink no problem."

She gave me a small smile in thanks, and really began studying the phones features.

Then it was my turn. “Kitten, your parents told me about your problem. This is a bit of jury rig, I'll have a better system set up in a few weeks, but this should work for now.”

Taking the gift which looked like a large jewelry box curiously. Opening it revealed some weird jewelry, there were eight rings, they were divided into two piles with four rings in each pile. The rings were connected to each other by long chains that ended in a small silver band. “Um, thanks.”

“Go grab your bracelets, and it will all make sense.”

I was up and back in about a minute, putting the bracelets on as I jogged.

“Ok, put the rings on, with the chains on top. Then just put the little band under the bracelet, it hooks right on,” he told me.

I did what he said, and while the tiny chains were annoying, they were just long enough that they didn't get in the way or anything. It definitely wasn't my style, especially with my warm, pink housecoat. Before I could do anything other than look confused, Uncle Herb took my hands and made sure they were attached properly.

“Now try to blast some electricity. Just a few sparks.”

Feeling the tiny charge that was my now constant companion, I pointed my hand at the empty fireplace, just in case I put a bit too much energy into it. Pushing the energy out, I could tell there should be sparks but they stopped at my fingers, and I heard the little whine from my bracelets telling me that they were charging up. “This stops my powers!”

Uncle Herb gave a rumbling, happy growl. “They're a devise, they're simple enough so you should only need me to look them over ever few months, and they'll only survive a low level charge. If you get into a fight and shoot something powerful enough to knock out a cat or a dog, it will fry them on the first try.”

I looked at my parents with pleading eyes. “I can keep going to school now?”

“You've got practice without them first, they're a devise so they could fail at the worst moment,” Dad said sternly, then his face eased a bit. “But you have a bit of leeway now.”

Jumping back into Uncle Herbs arms, I blew my parents a huge kiss. All I had to do now was figure out how to explain my sudden lack of fashion to my friends. The rest of the morning was spent opening presents. We all had a bunch, Mom even went and pulled out a whole bundle from the closet for Uncle Herb, that I'd thought she'd mailed a week ago.

Halfway through, Dad gave me a small box with a big smile, and when I opened it I saw it was the turquoise necklace and earring set I'd seen the day before at the mall. I couldn't resist putting the greenish blue jewelry on right away and ran to see how it looked in the mirror. Turning around, there were tears in my eyes as I thought how beautiful I looked. I was even able to forget that I wouldn't be able to wear them in a few months.

The other big surprise was for Kota. The trunk was for her, and it was wrapped up in a big red bow. When she hesitantly opened it and opened it up, her face fell for a second. It was full of clothes.

Mom walked up behind her to give her a hug. “Kota, you need some new clothes, but I kept your tastes in mind. The ones on top are trousers, capris and other pants that are loose, along with sweaters and shirts that won't hug your body. As your comfortable, go a little deeper, you can take as much time as you need.”

Uncertainty was written on her face, but Kota pulled a pair of grey trousers out of the box, and they looked like they would be a bit on the baggy side. Still a small smile appeared and she reached around to hug Mom, whispering a very quiet thank you.

Soon the presents were all unwrapped, and it was time to get dressed for breakfast. Mom had all the wrapping paper picked up before we were out the door with our booty, while Dad and Uncle Herb went to get breakfast ready.

Spending a bit of time, I got myself made up with a bit of makeup, a pretty dark blue sweater with a long black skirt, my new jewelry and the not so pretty devise. A final check in the mirror and a bit of combing for her short hair, and I was ready to go.

Theresa was already in the kitchen, where Dad and Uncle Herb were getting the toast and eggs ready, wearing a pair of comfortable pants and a blouse. The four of us talked for a bit, with Theresa and I cutting up some fruit. When we finished ten minutes later, Mom and Kota had finally come out. Kota was wearing a pair of new black trousers and a plain white blouse, both of which were a little too loose to be fashionable, but looked nice enough. Kota didn't look comfortable, but I couldn't really recall when she had looked completely comfortable except for when she'd been talking about parkour. At least she didn't seem to be really uncomfortable or grouchy.

We sat down and just started talking about whatever was on our mind, our favourite gifts, and things like that. Uncle Herb and I got into a big discussion of what we should make for supper and we pretty much forgot everyone else.

It was nice, and the entire day was just as good, with the two of us kicking everyone out of the kitchen so we could experiment.

Even with the funny jewelry on my hands, that Christmas was one of the good ones.

December 27th, 2007

It was the twenty-seventh, Kota and I were sitting in the living room with Mom waiting for the arrival of the special guest, while Dad, Uncle Herb and Theresa were out having fun. I'm not sure who was more nervous me or Kota. She was wearing her usual baggy jeans and sweatshirt, after spending all of Christmas and the day before in slightly tighter pants and blouses with a sweater thrown over top.

I was wearing the devise rings Uncle Herb gave me, feeling the sparks stopping just short of my skin, being absorbed into the bracelet batteries. My hair was still damp after working off all my excess energy for two hours in the gym, and from the nervous energy building up I figured I could do another two or three hours before I started feeling worn out.

Since the roads sucked, we weren't sure when the woman, a Martina Richards, would actually show up. She'd been picked up by a limo at the airport after meeting Dad, but she could reach us in thirty minutes or an hour. Kota was playing 'The Legend of Zelda' on the Wii she'd bought when we went shopping together. We'd all taken turns playing it and a bunch of other games she'd bought on Christmas and the day after, amazingly Uncle Herb proved to be the best at it, Mom kept moving too fast for the controller to keep track of her.

I did ok, but today I didn't want to play, I just hugged my stuffed dog and watched.

The doorbell rang, Mom dropped her book and was at the door before the first chime faded away. Kota put her game down and gave me a nervous look. After a long wait that felt like hours, Mom and Mrs. Richards came in. The woman was pretty, flawless dark skin, expressive emerald green eyes, a killer body, and shoulder length black hair, she would have looked perfect except for the nervous smile.

She took a sip of coffee that Mom must have given her while they talked in the entrance way. “Hi you two. So you're both changelings?”

Kota and I both stared at her having no idea what she was talking about. “What do you mean changelings?” Kota finally asked.

“Changelings are mutants who have changed sex,” she explained. “I heard the word from Dr. Sharpe over fifteen years ago, when my parents were directed to him after I noticed some problems with my face and chest that the doctors couldn't explain.”

“Yeah we're both changelings,” I told her.

“Excuse me,” Mom said, looking uncharacteristically nervous, “should I be here while you talk?”

Mrs. Richards shrugged her shoulders. “I'm not a psychiatrist, so I have no idea. I'm just going to talk about things, and do some exercises that helped me out.”

“Can you stay here?” Kota asked, playing with the hem of her shirt. “Please.”

Mom looked at me, raising her eyebrow. I nodded, not sure if it was a good idea or not, but figuring it couldn't hurt. “All right, I'll just stay out of the way, but if either of you need anything I'm here for you.” She took a seat in a chair off to the side, pulling out a pen and notepad so that she'd have something to keep her hands occupied since she'd remember everything that was said and done.

“I guess I should tell you a bit about myself,” she said, getting a far away look in her eyes. “Until I was fifteen, I was Marcel Garcia. I wasn't special in any real way, just a typical teenage boy who liked looking at girls and asking them out on dates only to get shot down, playing sports, and messing around. Then one day I realized my chest was a bit flabbier than it should be, my voice was cracking, again, and my hair was growing, becoming finer and longer. I won't tell you all the other personal details, but within a month of noticing that, I was starting to panic when I realized that something was getting smaller. I told my parents I NEEDED to see a doctor, but wouldn't explain why. Two weeks later when I finally got a checkup, I was having to bind my chest, and thanked god that I didn't have gym class during the summer.” She smiled and blushed at the same time.

“By the time he was done looking me over, the doctor who had with my family for longer than I'd been alive was speechless, and very confused. My parents were called in, and he said I was growing breasts. Several rounds of blood tests showed I had more estrogen in my blood than should be humanly possible, along with a lot more hormones that would have a prepubescent girl shooting through puberty, like a rocket. My parents and I didn't know what to do, so there were more tests. All of this took a couple of weeks, and each week brought more changes. By the time I saw Dr. Sharpe, I was having to sit down to pee, and I looked more like a twin sister than me.” She looked at her long fingers for a moment.

“Fortunately my parents and family were there for me. I went to live with my grandparents in California. My parents told everyone I was getting out of the city for the safer environment of a small town, and my grandparents told their friends I was a great niece who needed a place to stay while my parents settled some problems. I wasn't sure what I was going to do, but I knew I'd be horrified if anyone found out I was a boy turning into a girl. So I changed my name, and my parents did all the paperwork to change my identity, which wasn't easy but with all the doctors reports was possible, and I went back to school as Martina. We made sure I didn't have to worry about gym class, so all I had to do was make sure I didn't wander into the boys bathroom and make sure no one peeked when I had to go.”

“It was that easy?” Kota asked.

“I wish,” she replied, wistfully. “I had to learn how to walk in a skirt and dress, since my grandparents insisted I go to church. Learning how to talk differently, act, move, dress, and everything else so people wouldn't know I used to be a boy was hard. It helped that my grandmother was still going strong, and had the patience and stubbornness to teach me how to be a lady. At school they thought I was old fashioned, a throwback to the 40's and 50's, but it worked.”

“How did you handle it?” I asked.

“After the mind numbing terror, with a bit of denial, I adjusted. It took a few months of living like a girl every single day, but eventually it seemed right. I knew I was completely adjusted when a boy asked me out, and rather than being disgusted I smiled and said yes.” She moved her fingers like she was counting. “I think that was eight months after I started to change.”

“So liking boys and stuff is normal?” Kota asked in a whisper.

“Dr. Sharpe says it is, so did the psychiatrist I saw once a month that he recommended. The bit we have says we're suppose to be this sex, so it does a few things with the wiring in our brains to make us fit a little better.”

Kota's hands clenched up so tightly her knuckles turned white. “How do- how do you know you're still you?”

That got an understanding smile. “I asked myself that same question a lot. I can't say nothing has changed, I won't lie to you, but let's look things over. I still love football, watching it with my husband and kids, and play amateur flag football with my friends. I like guys now, but seeing a good head of blond hair, sweet blue eyes, and a nice tight body makes me weak in the knees, just like it used to. All my memories are the same, believe me I've checked with my family many times. My favourite colour is still black. As a teenage girl I still laughed at the same jokes I did when I was a teenage boy, and even now I will smile when I hear a good fart joke even if my tastes have matured. I still love spicy food that burns your tongue. I may like children more than before, but my husband absolutely adores children, so you can't say it's a man woman thing.”

She showed us her nails which were well taken care of but didn't have a trace of nail polish on them. “I did learn how to use makeup, but I only wear it for special occasions. And I'll dress up, because I like to look good, and I enjoy men looking at me respectfully, but I don't like spending more than twenty minutes on my hair, and that is mostly to dry it after a shower, and I hate primping and preening. The biggest change I think, is that I'm more open about my emotions and I like to talk more. As a guy, I would talk about things on my mind, but always look for a solution or try to show off how much I knew, unless I was killing time shooting the shit. And rather than crying on a friends shoulder, I'd do something physical alone or with a friend to work off stress. Now a good long talk that wanders around and doesn't have to solve all the problems in the world with a girlfriend feels just as good most of the time. So am I still me? I've done things that would make the old me want to puke, like giving birth to two wonderful babies, and visiting a gynecologist,” she made a disgusted face at that one.

“But I think I am me, different but not totally different or forgetting who I used to be.” She sighed as if relieved that a job was done. “Now, I want you to do something. Write down everything that you think you've lost or will lose.”

Kota and I both picked up our notepads and pens that had been set out earlier. I thought about what to write. Pretty, fashionable clothes, talking with girlfriends, talking about my feelings, dancing, having to do everything on my own, having to be tough all the time, having a baby, makeup...

There was more, but I couldn't think about how to write them down. It was all just a big confusing mess in my head. After ten minutes I put the notepad down. Kota kept writing, scratching things out, and writing again. Finally she threw the note pad down with a look of disgust.

“Now, I want one you to start, read the first thing on your list and we can talk about it, then the other will read theirs, and we'll work our way down the list. Who would like to start?” Mrs. Richards asked.

I looked at Kota who was sitting there with her head down. “I'll start. I won't be pretty anymore.”

“Do you like looking at guys?” she asked.

“Yeah. But I don't want to look like one!”

“You can't change what's happening, but you do have some choices over how you look. You don't have to try to look ruggedly handsome, or a punk, the clothes you wear, your hairstyle, they'll help you a lot,” she said. “Dr. Sharpe also has some things for you to try when you see him, he's not an expert on BIT's focusing on GSD more, but there are some things you might be able to do to help shape it a little, especially this early.”

Mom spoke up for the first time. “Estelle, why don't you and I look at some pictures of mens' clothes and styles? Maybe we can find a look you like.”

I nodded, wishing I could hide in a baggy shirt like Kota.

“Kota, what about you?”

She mumbled something that I couldn't make out even though I was right beside her.

“Kota, what is it?” Mom asked.

“I'm weak,” she whispered.

“No you're not,” Mom said. “I saw you running the other day, a weak person couldn't run like you, or talk to me like you did either.”

“Then wh- why did I let... it happen?” she asked, tears starting to fall.

Mom came over and gave Kota a hug. “Mrs. Richards, Estelle, how about you both keep talking, while I talk with Kota in private?”

I gave Kota a gentle pat on the back as Mom led her out not waiting for either of us to answer her, cradling the now openly sobbing girl to her side.

Mrs. Richards watched them leave, a sad look in her eye. Giving her head a shake she turned back to me. “Well Estelle, what's next?”

“Here,” I said handing over the list.

She took a moment to read it. “Dancing? Why can't you keep dancing?”

“I'll have to relearn everything, my balance will be off, everything is different, and, and...” I didn't know what else to say.

“You like dancing?” she asked.

“Love it.”

“Then relearning how to move won't be that hard. You're going to have exemplar reflexes, honestly you'll need something to challenge yourself, because you're going to start improving my leaps and bounds.” She came over to sit next to me. “You don't have to give up what you love, I certainly didn't. Now talking with your girlfriends. Do you know many guys?”

“Not a whole lot. I go to an all girls school,” I admitted.

“From a former boy, boys do talk, they talk about different things, and they usually try to solve a problem instead of just listening,” she rolled her eyes. “But they do talk, some more than others. And you are allowed to have friends who are girls, and you can talk with each other about all kinds of things. It's a bit more rough and tumble then with most girls, but that's one thing you'll have to get used to. And this leads us to two other things.”

She read over my list again. “Having to do everything on your own, and being tough all the time. Guys do ask for help, don't believe the stupid sitcoms on tv. They don't ask for help as quickly as girls do, they like to look tough and knowledgeable, but most guys aren't stupid and when they don't know what's going on they'll ask for help, after trying one or two things on their own hoping they can boast about it later. If you have trouble, get some friends and ask. As for being tough, boys don't want to look too weak in front of some people, but if they bottle it all up it's not good either.”

“So why do I usually see boys acting all macho?”

“Because they're trying to impress people in public,” Mrs. Richards explained. “When they're alone with friends, they'll complain about things, they'll play sports to let off tension, when they're old enough, they'll go out for a drink with friends and cry in their beer, yell a bit, or make a lot of tasteless jokes. And if they have a really good friend or a girlfriend they trust, they'll even cry on their shoulder. I married a man and we've been through a lot, the tough guy act is mostly for public consumption.”

She looked around, “Where's the bathroom?”

I gave her directions and while she hurried off, I got curious. Taking Kota's notebook, I saw that over half the page was scratched out. Guiltily I started reading the few words that were almost ripped into the page. 'Weak, helpless, alone, pretty little toy.'

I heard footsteps coming down the hall, and hastily put the notebook back down. Mrs. Richards came in and sat down beside me. “Estelle, like I said I'm not a psychiatrist, so how about we just talk as friends? Anything you want.”

“Ok,” I said, distracted and trying to figure out why Kota had written those things. “What were you afraid of when you started to change?”

We talked for several hours, until Dad, Uncle Herb and Theresa came back with supper. Kota and Mom came out of the guest room then, and while Kota was even more quiet than usual, she seemed to be walking a little bit more lightly.

**

December 28th, 2007

The next morning, Mom, Kota, and I sat on the couch while Mrs. Richards sat on a chair across from us. Mom was at one end and Kota was in the middle, she was holding Mom's hand like it was a lifeline. Mom had asked me quietly before we started if it was ok, she would have sat in between us, but they wanted Kota and I to try to talk to each other today. After seeing Kota's breakdown the other day and reading what she'd written, I didn't have a problem with it. I was still upset and unhappy about my coming changes, but with the long talk yesterday, I saw that it didn't have to be the end of the world, I was doing better than Kota to, and I could figure out why.

From listening to Kota's last question before she started crying, and what she'd written, it didn't take a genius to figure out what it meant, at least once I had a chance to think about it with my own head clear. Some of the kids my parents helped had suffered pretty bad abuse, even that. I'd overheard them talking about both girls and boys who'd come to them for that reason, and I'd met one or two of them, like with the GSD kids, I was just suppose to be there and act normal around them, letting them know they weren't freaks or anything.

Taking what I knew, I placed my hand on Kota's knee, so she would know I was there for her.

We'd both had a chance to get to know Mrs. Richards in a more relaxed way during the evening over supper, and that morning. It turned out she knew even more about football than Uncle Herb and Dad put together, and she liked rap music which gave her something to talk about with Kota.

Now, however, we were both nervous about what we were going to talk about. Kota was wearing her baggiest jeans and a hoodie. I hadn't seen the hoodie before, unlike the other ones she'd worn which were for guys, this one was cut for a girl, if fairly baggy, with a basic dark grey, blue and black, diagonally striped pattern, it also looked new. Occasionally her free hand would reach up to the center of her chest and seem to touch something hidden under her shirt.

I was almost the opposite of Kota, tight white jeans, pink socks, a pink and white V-neck shirt with 'LOVE!' stenciled on the front and a bunch of hearts. Until the last possible minute, I was going to be as fashionable and girly as possible. And after looking over a bunch of fashion sites for men with Mom the night before, I swore to myself that I would still be fashionable after the change, even if I wouldn't be as hot and cute as I was now.

Mrs. Richards made herself comfortable, and looked at both of us. “Today I think it would help if you two talked to each other. How does that sound to you?”

“Sure,” I said, having had a chance to think about it.

Kota just nodded.

She gave us a big smile. “Great. This is something we brainstormed last night, if either of you feel uncomfortable or upset, tell me and we'll take a break or change the subject. I'd like both of you to tell the other one why you liked being a boy or a girl. I think it will help give you somethings to consider.” Mrs. Richards looked at me,. “Do you think you could go first Estelle?”

“Alright. I like being a girl because I like to dress up and look pretty. When I know I look good, it just feels,” I struggled to think of the right word, “right, I guess.”

“What about when guys look at you?” Kota asked quietly.

“As long as they aren't leering, I actually kind of like it,” I admitted, thankful that my red complexion didn't show how much I was blushing. “I like to know I'm the prettiest girl.”

Kota shook her head, folding her free hand across her body. “I don't understand that. It's like they're undressing you.”

“Not really. Ok, sometimes, and that can be creepy, especially if they're ugly or old. But usually it makes me feel good, especially if they're cute.” My mouth snapped shut as Mom looked at me with pursed lips, and a promise that we'd be talking about things later on. A thought came to me. “When you were a guy, did you like girls looking at you?”

“Yeah. But that's different.”

“How?”

“Well, because... they're... it's not the same!” she insisted. “As a guy I was in control.”

“So am I,” I told her. “I don't know what it's like in some places, but if some creep is staring at me, I can glare at him, leave, ask for help, or point him out to my friends and start saying bad stuff about losers that stare.”

Her expression hardened. “I don't like asking for help.”

“Why not? You can't do everything by yourself.” It was this type of boy attitude I couldn't understand, even after Mrs. Richard had told me it wasn't really as bad as I thought.

She brought her knees up to her chest and stared straight ahead. “I used to ask... ask my brothers for help all the time.”

Mom hugged her tightly, whispering in her ear. I don't know what she said, but after almost a full minute of whispering, Kota relaxed, a little. Mom didn't stop hugging her though. “Ok,” Kota finally said, still staring at nothing, “asking for help isn't bad. But I still don't want guys staring at me.”

Mrs. Richards nodded. “That's fine, neither of you have to agree, just try to understand and see it from each others perspective. Kota, what about you?”

“Standing up to pee was great. There was almost never a line up for the bathroom as a guy,” she said.

We all smiled at that. “Alright, one very good thing about being a guy,” I giggled, thinking about the times I'd been forced to wait in line at a busy restaurant or mall. Assuming it was my turn I got my giggles under control and said, “Hugging my close friends. I don't really like touching that much, but a quick hug, a hand on the arm, things like that whenever I feel a little down, or happy, or just want to know people care about me is great.”

I immediately felt bad about saying that when I saw Mom tense a little. I hadn't really thought about her when I said it, but I should have.

Kota looked at Mom and then me. “I think I can get that one. Guys put their arms around the shoulders and pat on the back, but hugs aren't really our thing. My turn again, I guess. Boys aren't talked down to as much.”

“What?” I asked.

“People just seem to treat me like I don't know something since I became a girl, when talking about the same thing as a boy people acted like I knew something,” she explained.

I didn't know what to say to that, and a look at Mom for support, just got a shake of her head, letting me know this was all on me. “Well, I've heard of that. But I go to an all girls school, and I don't really know many boys, so I haven't really noticed. That must be really annoying.”

“Very,” Kota almost growled. “And people seem to get a lot more upset and confused, when I don't act all nice and polite.”

“Girls are usually quieter and act more easy going than boys,” I admitted.

“It gets old fast. And boys aren't weak,” she continued.

“What do you mean?”

“Girls are weak. Boys aren't.”

I'd never had a problem with being weak, with my training and exercise I could probably beat up most boys my age even before manifesting. But I knew a lot of my friends wouldn't last more than a few seconds in a fight, if they were able to fight at all. “You're an exemplar now, you're probably stronger then when you were a boy.”

“I'm not strong enough to fight back.”

“Bull!” I said, channeling some of my fighting instructors. “Sure you'll get into fights you can't win, but if you know how to pay attention, how to defend yourself, and are willing to go all out, you can buy yourself some time and let them know you won't go easy.”

“Have you ever had to fight?” she asked me.

“Once, and I couldn't win. I almost... I almost died,” I said, closing my eyes trying to hold off the images of murder and death. “But I still fought.”

I could see the anger rise in her face. “Than you're better than me.”

Mom turned Kota around to look in her eyes. “No she's not. Estelle has trained, and learned how to fight. You haven't. And the people who attacked her were strangers who were killing almost everyone they found, except for children and other sacrifices. NOT people she trusted. Believe me, THAT changes everything.”

The quavering voice was almost too quiet to hear. “I'm still weak.”

“So change it, learn to fight.” Mom bit her lip for a second. “Ok, let's move this to the gym. Martina, would you like to watch us train, relax, or take a limo to do some shopping?”

Mrs. Richards seemed a little taken back at the offer. “A limo! Are you sure?”

Mom nodded.

“How could I say no to that. Thank you, I'll do some shopping.”

“I'll make the call. Estelle, Kota, change into some workout clothes,” Mom said as she walked out of the room already phoning the limo company. Now that she had a purpose, nothing was going to stop her.

“Are we really going to fight?” Kota asked, well more like squeaked.

“No. Probably. But I think you're going to get a crash course in self defense.” Getting up, I gave her a little smile. “We'd better get ready, when she's like this hardened criminals do what she tells them.”

**

I was the first one in the gym, wearing a tight t-shirt and shorts, not quite sure what Mom was planning I started stretching. Kota came in a few minutes later wearing a track suit, it looked like a new one and actually made for a girl, so I guessed it was one that Mom had gotten her. Silently she started stretching as well.

Mom finally came in as we finished stretching, she was wearing yoga pants and a tank top, I knew we were going to do some serious training because her sunglasses were off. “All right, lets begin. Kota, have you had any self defense or fight training?”

Kota shook her head. “No.”

“Have you ever been in a fight?”

“Just school yard fights. I used to win most of them.”

That got a frown. When I'd tell her about how some of the kids fought when I'd gone to public school, she'd laughed and said that wasn't fighting, it was just slapping each other and posturing. “All right, let's see how you punch,” she said, holding up her hand.

Kota shrugged, made a fist and punched Mom's open palm. There wasn't much speed to it, her wrist twisted a little, there was very little weight in the punch, and all in all it was terrible. I wisely kept my mouth shut, taking criticism from an official superhero was one thing, but I figured with how Kota thought I was 'too' girly girly, my critiquing her fighting skills would not be taken well.

While Mom taught Kota the basics, I started pounding away on a punching bag. To work off the energy I'd been slowly building up, I gave my muscles a small charge and really let loose. Since the bag was made for my parents light training, the specially made kevlar punching bags that were full of ball bearings were kept behind some hidden wall panels so visitors wouldn't see them, it held up well to my beating, but it was still rocking pretty hard.

“I can't do this!” Kota yelled.

I stopped and looked at her wiping the sweat from my brow. Kota was red in the face, her lower lip trembling. “I can't fight anymore. Even she's stronger than me!” she shouted, pointing at me.

“Estelle, when did you start learning how to fight?” Mom asked.

“I started when I was six. And you had me doing push ups and sit ups when I was three,” I said. “When not on holidays, I train with a personal trainer for three hours every Saturday, and I train for two hours a day every three days.”

Mom gave Kota a hug. “See, it's not about how strong you are, but training. If you want I can start training you, and you can keep it going at Whateley, but if you just give up you'll stay weak.”

Kota didn't say anything, too lost in her misery. Sighing Mom let go of her and typed a code on the security panel by the door. Walls slid up revealing training equipment, Mom zipped around the room pulling out punching bags, gymnastic equipment, specially made weights and workout machines, until the room was crowded with equipment.

“All right Kota, my daughter is trained in fighting, you're trained in moving. What do you think is better?”

“Fighting,” she answered immediately.

Mom smiled. “Let's find out. Estelle, I want you to punch Kota within five minutes. No powers. Kota, don't get punched. Starting now.”

I loudly punched my palm, giving Kota a small chance to get ready. The girl looked at my Mom like she was nuts, then saw me moving towards her, fists raised. Without even thinking about it, she jumped over a stack of free weights and was off.

The next five minutes were frustrating for me. I'm not clumsy, and my dance training helped me be light on my feet, but dancing is not made for jumping and dodging like a mad person. She'd jump, slide or duck and weave around something, as if it was all planned in advance, and I'd have to slow down, look for the best way around it, and fall another second or two behind. The fact that I couldn't use a charge didn't help matters.

When Mom finally stopped us, I was breathing hard, sweaty, and really wanted to get back to punching the bag. Kota was breathing a little heavy, but was actually smiling.

Mom gave me a smile, letting me know I'd done a good job, and patted Kota on the back. “Now than Kota, in a straight fight Estelle has the advantage. Her training, and her powers are all very offensive, fighting her on her terms is about as effective as trying to beat me in a footrace. Your training and powers can become offensive, but right now they're mostly good at letting you get away and surviving, which is not something to be upset about. In my professional opinion you should look at hit and run tactics, distractions and setting people up for a very powerful hit, rather than the stand up fight you're thinking about. It's easier for you to expand on what you know, suits your powers better, and it's safer.”

“I shouldn't have to run away from fights,” Kota said, shutting down once more.

“With training, you don't have to. Moving a fight to where you have the advantage isn't weak or cowardly it's smart. When Fly By and I started being superheroes, we,” I gave her a look, causing her to backtrack. “Ok, mostly I, would go straight into a fight without planning anything more than hitting the bad guy a dozen times before he could blink. It worked just often enough that I kept doing it. But there were quite a few times I ended up in the hospital, and once... Fly By was captured because I wanted to be just like you, and I walked into a dozen different traps.” Mom clenched her fists for a moment, pushing back the memory which had hurt all of us so badly. “After that, I started learning how to use my speed as something other than a way to get from point A to B and to punch or kick people really fast. Now, while I like a good fight, I come at the criminals from odd angles, get in a good hit aimed at disabling them or setting them up for another hit by Fly By, and get out. I still get hurt, but visits to the hospital are a lot less frequent, and even when things go south, Fly By and I can still manage to get away and fight another day.”

She hugged Kota again. “Running away is often the smart thing, especially if you aren't a hero, don't think you're weak when you're just being smart. Now let's work on your punches again, once you get enough control, you can practice them on Estelle,” Mom said with a grin.

“Wow! Feel the love in this room,” I groaned.

“At least I'm not going to make you put all of this stuff back by yourself.”

**

After a full day of hard training, made possible by the fact we were all mutants with powers that gave us ridiculous endurance, Kota was feeling more confident, and I was actually starting to feel her punches as something stronger than fly bites. I didn't mind being a mobile punching bag as I had on some light padding, and I was allowed to charge myself up first. Then I got to watch Kota do her parkour thing while slamming her feet, elbows, knees and fists into Mom, since she was tough enough to take it, from all different angles, which was pretty interesting. Usually it was Mom who did that kind of stuff, and I could guess that once Kota got more experience, she'd be a real pain to fight anywhere that wasn't a flat field.

Mom helped move the heaviest equipment back into place and left the lighter stuff for Kota and I while she went to check her emails and get some work done.

“Feel better?” I asked as we put the equipment away.

“A little,” she admitted. “I don't think I'll join the martial arts class this term like your mom recommended, they're teaching Parkour in survival class. But maybe in September I'll do it.”

“As long as you keep practicing by yourself that should be good enough for now. I don't think I'll join martial arts when I get their either.”

She stopped moving a punching bag back into its' wall panel. “Why not? You hit like a ton of bricks.”

Shrugging, I answered, “I already know how to fight, pretty well to. So I don't really need to learn a new style to defend myself. And from what I read, the survival class seems pretty interesting.”

“Don't you want to be a hero like your parents?”

“Do you want to be exactly like your parents?” I asked.

She lowered her eyes, and wordlessly started pushing the punching bag again. I moved over to her and put my arm around her shoulder. “I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

“I-it's ok,” she muttered, keeping her head down.

“Want to talk about it?”

“No... Yes... I don't know.” She punched the bag. “Why are you guys so nice to me?”

There was something in her voice, like she was pleading for the truth. So I told her. “Because they wanted more kids and they could only have me, and they can't actually touch me.”

“That curse?”

“Yeah. Mom comes from a big family, Dad has lots of cousins, so they wanted a big family to. Then they were cursed, and they don't want to risk having another kid who can't touch them. So they help out kids like you and Theresa as much as they can.” We walked over to a bench. “If they were baseline they'd be foster parents, maybe adopt a few kids, but because Mom is a known mutant they're not allowed, it would not be a safe environment for the children. And I help them, because I've been doing it since I could walk.”

“So we're not just charity cases to make them feel better?”

“No, you're not. Once Mom and Dad get their hooks you, you're unofficial family.” An idea popped into my head. “Come on, we can put the rest of this stuff away later. I want to show you something.”

Grabbing her hand, I made Kota follow me to the library. I made her sit at the table, while I went to a wall that was right beside a bookshelf. Opening a hidden panel I typed in a code, and the wall opened up revealing photo albums. Taking several of them I brought them to the table.

“That's pretty elaborate security for photo albums,” Kota said.

“These are special photo's that could reveal a lot more about my family than we want.” I opened up the first one, there was a boy with a parrot beak sitting beside Prairie Sun and Fly By, and another with my parents not in costume, and me all swaddled up. “This is Bobby, he was the first boy who actually stayed with them for a few weeks. Before that they would just keep newly manifested mutants for a few days, maybe a week or two before passing them onto Whateley or a family member. That was thirteen years ago, just a few months after I was born.”

I slowly flipped through the pages, each one was of Bobby, showing him growing older. The pictures were taken in the house, in the headquarters, the surrounding prairies, a few were in Edmonton, where Bobby wore a surgical mask, that bulged oddly. In quite a few I was being held by him or sitting beside him, my little hands were often grabbing for his beak, which he seemed to love. “He's working as virtual assistant now over in Vancouver, we visit each other two or three times a year.”

Taking another album out, I showed her a picture of twins, a boy and a girl, they had been badly beaten, each of them had a cast on their arm, and the girl was in a wheel chair because both her legs were broken. “Dylan and Tanya, they called 911 when their parents called H1 and walked away after they manifested. Mom and Dad looked after them for a whole year, while they recovered, mentally and physically.” The pictures showed the twins getting healthier, but at first they were always holding each other, as if they were afraid to let their sibling go. I was three years old when they had lived with us, and anytime I was in the picture, Tanya was holding onto me like I was her most precious doll. Then the pictures started showing them apart, Dylan playing ball or fishing with Dad, Tanya working on a computer or reading a book, still in her wheelchair.

“What happened to them?” Kota asked, when the pictures ended abruptly with the twins just in their late teens.

“They died. They were on their way back here after graduating from Whateley, they were driving across the country, playing tourist. They got caught in a bad thunderstorm and they were at least an hour away from a hotel, there was a car accident.” I wiped my eyes, remembering riding around on Tanya's lap as she pushed her wheelchair around as fast as she could go, which since she'd been a speedster, had been pretty fast. “They were going to go to school here, Tanya had gotten a great scholarship to study psychology, and Dylan was going to study policing to be a hero. My parents were helping them pay for it.”

I held Kota's hand. “We've got over fifteen photo albums each one for a different kid, and a bunch more for kids who only stayed with us for a short time. If you come back, you'll be getting one of your own. My parents don't care who you are, or where you came from. They see you as a teenager who needs help, and they'll help you as best they can.”

“My parents aren't like that,” she whispered. “They didn't even want me.”

I hugged her. “It's ok, you're wanted now.”

Tears hit my cheek and ran down onto my shoulder. “I-I thought my brothers loved me. But-but they didn't. I changed, and th-then they used me.”

Kota had been a bitch when we first met, but with her crying on my shoulder I pushed that aside as water under the bridge. There was a girl just barely older than I was, grieving at being abused and abandoned by her family, and I was the only one there to help her. “If you want, you can come back every vacation. You'll always have a place here, and our summer reunions are pretty spectacular.”

She was crying too hard to make out her answer, but from the way she was hugged me closer, I took it as a yes.

The next day it was my birthday and the day that Mrs. Richards left, Kota was seeming more relaxed, and a lot of my fears were becoming lessened. I would be lying if I said I wasn't scared, but talking to someone who'd gone through it and come out happy was a relief. Surprisingly Kota also helped. At first she'd had me thinking I'd be miserable and nothing good would happen with my sex change, but the very tiny bit she was willing to tell me about her family, let me know that I was really lucky to have my parents, even with all the screwed up things.

My birthday supper, which was just my parents, Uncle Herb, Kota and Theresa, serving my favourite meal of excellently cooked medium rare steak that had marinated in Uncle Herbs special ginger marinade over night and all day, mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables, a mixed salad made by me, and a tray of melt in your mouth brownies, was quiet just the way I liked it. I'd have a big birthday party near the end of January with all my friends. The one time I'd tried having my birthday party on my actual birthday, I'd had two out of fifteen people invitee's show up, most people we knew went away just after Christmas or sooner and didn't come back until just after New Years, and so soon after Christmas, my birthday had a way of being forgotten. So this was a time for family, and occasional guests, while on the last Saturday in January we'd go all out.

For the rest of the vacation, I spent the morning meditating with Dad, the afternoon I'd go outside with friends, taking Kota and Theresa when they wanted to come out to see the sights, go skating, skiing and snowboarding, and even a dogsled ride, which Kota and Theresa thought was great.

We did go to Vancouver, which was no fun for me, since I had to spend pretty much the whole time getting studied. It was interesting in one way. Dr. Sharpe taught me a new technique that could possibly affect my bit. Meditating on what you thought your body should look like, could theoretically change your bit safely, although you couldn't make big changes like staying a girl or something. So, while Theresa, Kota and Mom met up with the Vancouver heroes, and did all the fun touristy stuff, including a sleigh ride which I would have loved, I was busy thinking of the ideal male body that wouldn't leave me too disgusted seeing in the mirror. That wasn't much fun when everyone else was fishing for Winter Chinook (King Salmon) around Vancouver Harbour, at least I got to eat the fish they caught. I did get to meet Ms. Rozic's daughter, who was also going to Whateley. She seemed pretty nervous about things, especially Uncle Herb, but from the little I saw of her she was nice enough. And Uncle Herb seemed even happier than usual with Amanda around, I even saw them kissing when they thought no one was alone. Kind of icky to see, but if they were happy I was happy for them, Uncle Herb deserved someone in his life.

When it was time to put Theresa and Kota back on the plane for Whateley, I didn't have to join them. Between not being so scared anymore, the meditation which I had to keep practicing at school, and the devise I'd gotten for Christmas, I had my powers under control for the most part. So the three of us hugged, quickly, at the airport and promised to stay in touch until they came back for their short break in March.

And then I had to get back to school.

I was amazed at how easy everything was. I had to get my own dorm room, which made me stand out, but it was ok. I got a little lonely at night, seeing all the other girls going off to bed with their roommates, and gossiping, but it helped being a bit introverted and I could deal with my changing body in peace. It wasn't noticeable if you weren't paying a lot of attention, but I was, measuring myself, seeing how my clothes fit, studying my body. Having my own room helped with meditation to, my parents hired an artist to work with me creating a actual picture of my ideal male body, thin, with long limbs and gracefully defined muscle, longish hair (for a boy) that could be styled, not hairy, slightly feminine features, Dad joked I was making myself into a pop star. I smiled and agreed.

By February my bra's were a little looser. Where the other girls were filling out, I was shrinking. And my waist was getting larger. Again not much I would have thickened just as much by eating a bit more food at every supper, but I was slowly going up in size. The same was true for my feet and height. My powers gave me another problem, eating.

Because of how my power worked, I didn't need to eat as much as other energizers unless I used my power for more than a few minutes. But I still had to eat at least one huge meal a day, which would look strange to my classmates. So my Mom gave me something she used everyday to pass as a mostly baseline, the strongest protein drinks on the market. How she drank the gritty water that tasted like bitter tea, I have no idea, but she carried a bottle of the stuff everywhere, and had packs of the powder in her purse so she could refill it every two or three hours. I just had to drink two of them one in the morning and one at night and I was fine. When I drank it around other people, I said it was a medicine and left it at that. The same went for the jewelry, I told them it was a devise which kept the skin problems in check and everything was fine.

Most days I could even forget that I was changing.

Mom and Dad had a fairly normal time, as normally as they could anyways. They fought a couple of supervillains over January, just C and B list ones who thought they could form a group and take control of the Edmonton underworld, which was a fairly important drug route for BC grown marijuana and drugs from Mexico moving from BC ports to Ontario, bypassing the US entirely. Mom, Dad, Snowflake, and Big Horn, got some help from Uncle Herb, Mo Shu Shi, and Cloud Master, to send half of them to prison and the other half running for the hills. So all in all nothing out of the ordinary.

And then it all went straight to hell, all thanks to a group I'd practically forgotten about.

Edmonton, Alberta
1:30pm, March 1st, 2008

My body was still changing. I was wearing gel pads in my bra since I was a plain B cup, and my waist was getting wider, if I was wearing skin tight clothes that would have been noticed, but with my new baggy and layered look no one had really commented on it. Now that I wasn't exercising quite so hard, I was still developing real definition with my muscles, but it had slowed down and I could cover most of it. For the moment. Mom and I were out enjoying the day, trying to get in some more mother daughter time before I turned into a boy.

Mom had gotten me out of school for the afternoon and all the next day, because Theresa and Kota were coming for a visit during their winter break, and would be arriving later in the evening. We were downtown to watch a chick flick together, it was actually pretty warm at about plus 5 Celsius, so we were wearing sweaters and warm pants. For a workday the street was crowded with people enjoying the warm weather. We'd had some fantastic pizza for lunch and I was actually having a good time.

“So after the movie, I'm thinking ice cream,” Mom said.

“And milkshakes?”

“Sure,” she agreed. “But don't tell your Dad, or he'll get jealous. And then we'll pick up the girls and meet your Dad for supper. ”

Looking at my watch, I started to pull her along by her sleeve. “Come on, the movie's about to start.”

“It starts in fifteen minutes, and it has at least that long to just go through the previews.”

“But I want to watch the previews, they're the be-” I stopped in mid-sentence, blood splattered across my face. Mom staggered backwards, a red stain spreading quickly across her shirt.

People screamed and ran. I grabbed Mom as she fell to the ground a look of shock on her face. I think I was screaming to, my hands were red, trying to stop the bleeding. Before I could get a handle on my shock and remember my first aid training, hands grabbed me from behind, yanking me away from Mom, a cloth covered my mouth and I smelled chemicals. I didn't even think, electricity flared around me, the hands were flung away and shouts of pain filled the air.

I spun on the people who had tried to grab me, they looked normal, men and women wearing everyday clothes, some who hadn't gotten shocked pulled out pistols. I clicked my bracelets against my belt. Only two thoughts filled my mind, they'd killed Mom, and I was going to hurt them.

The electrical aura crackled around me, I was able to rip a car door off its hinges at this point, and the enemy had guns. I'd been taught when dealing with guns to either run and get under cover, or get in very close. There was no question what I was going to do.

Shooting a bolt of energy at the furthest gunman, I threw myself at another one. They weren't expecting me to attack, they really weren't expecting me to use my powers like I was. My fist drove into the mans' stomach, he folded over unable to even scream as electricity ran wild through his body, making him spasm and dance on the ground. Ignoring him, I sent another bolt of energy into the attackers.

Something hit me in the back. There wasn't any pain, being so full of adrenaline and energy a car hitting me probably wouldn't have hurt, but I did fall to my knees. Rolling with the fall, I let my aura turn me into a weapon, the smell of cooked meat filled the air as I hit a pair of legs while throwing my arms out sending electricity arcing from my fingers into the group. I was hit again a lot harder, it actually hurt, but I was so tangled up in a mass of bodies, I couldn't tell what had hit me. Rolling onto my back, I started heaving people away.

The little bit I could see went white, and I started choking. Wet powder covered me, cutting off my breathing and damping my electricity. Wheezing, vomiting, trying to clear my mouth so I could get some air, I was grabbed again. People were shouting orders at each other. A damp cloth was put to my mouth again.

Then Moms' voice, weak, quavering and full of fury cut through the chaos. “GET AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER!”

I was thrown into a van, and tires squealed as it pulled away leaving the sounds of screaming behind. On the plus side they weren't trying to drug me anymore, and I could breath a little. Feebly I tried to wipe the gunk from my eyes.

“Why isn't she dead?!” someone screamed.

A woman answered. “I don't know! Drive faster!” She's catching up!”

“We shot her with a 30.06! How did she survive? How is she keeping up?!”

“I DON'T KNOW! Call the Elders. We have the God Shard but we have a super following us.”

“Dammit!” the first man yelled. “Traffic jam!”

“GO ON THE SIDEWALK YOU IDIOT!”

The van lurched and bounced. There were screams and thuds from outside.

My eyes burned, but I could open them. I saw five blurry people, some of them looked like they had guns. A window was broken, and a gun shot echoed in my ears.

“Police are coming! Go right, GO RIGHT!”

There was shot and swearing as the van almost tipped over. “Stop swerving! I almost had her!”

The van lurched to the side, as what sounded like an explosion hit right next to it. “Shit! It's Fly By!”

“Don't worry. Reinforcements are coming, just keep them off of us and get to the backup site.”

Whatever they'd covered me with had sucked up all the energy from my aura, and that had taken almost all of my charge. I tried to click my bracelets against my belt, but nothing happened. I could feel my own internal charge slowly recovering, but I was only a little stronger then a healthy teenage girl. I had to do something. They'd tried to kill Mom, they were going to get reinforcements soon, and they were probably going to kill me painfully.

The van jerked again. A man fell beside me, he was holding a gun. I threw myself on top of him, Krav Maga training doesn't focus much on ground fighting, so I didn't go for any arm locks or grapples. I started by trying to punch him in the throat and hit his chin instead. He hit me on the side, knocking me off of him and then grabbed me by my sweater. Before he could punch me, I kicked him in the diaphragm, and was back on top with my sweater ripped open, gouging his eyes and nose. He dropped the gun trying to throw me off.

I let him, scrabbling under the seat to get the pistol. They pulled me back out, but the gun was in my hand. Before they realized what was going on, I put three bullets into the back of the drivers seat.

We hit something and the van flipped over with a crunch of metal. Someone landed on top of me and I suddenly couldn't breath again. Every part of me hurt, I wasn't sure I could stand up even if I wasn't being crushed. There was the sound of ripping metal, the weight lessened as people were pulled off of me, and thrown aside, their cries cutting off with painful sounding thuds. Hard hands enveloped me.

Clutching Mom, I started to cry. I'd always knew that some enemy of my parents could try to kidnap me, or that one of my parents could die, but I'd never experienced it so closely before. Even the ritual I'd helped stop wasn't aimed at me or my parents personally, and Mom had never been in any real danger. But I'd just seen her shot, I was beaten and battered, and they had been coming after ME.

People were taking pictures of us, even as Dad started disarming and rounding up the kidnappers who weren't unconscious. Through the haze of tears and pain, I realized that everyone had seen Mom running faster than a car with a chest wound and ripping a locked door off like it was made of cardboard. She didn't seem to care, and I was crying too hard to say anything.

Trucks screeched to a halt. “MCO! Everyone step aside,” a man shouted over a bullhorn.

I looked up to see a squad of MCO agents hopping out of the back of two armoured trucks, four light suits of power armour came from the third. Dad put himself between us and them. “There are the kidnappers. They seem human, so you'll have to talk to the RCMP about jurisdiction.”

A few cop cars came to a stop. The officers didn't seem to know what to do about the superhero and the MCO facing off against each other, so they started handcuffing the kidnappers and radioing for ambulances and backup.

“We have reports that two mutants are involved, is that them behind you?” the MCO guy in charge asked.

Dad nodded. “Yes. They were acting in self defense, you can talk with them at the station.”

“There are reports of two people killed and four more badly injured from electrical burns. I'm afraid since this was declared a mutant incident by the RCMP, you have very little say in the matter.”

“Under section 22.1, mutants can use their abilities to protect themselves and will deal with the MCO through the RCMP. If there are any questions, a judge will decide who has control of the matter. I can recite all the laws and regulations in my sleep, shall we continue?”

Mom had gotten up by now, still holding me and was ready to fight or run depending on how things went. Her left arm was shaking, she was breathing hard, and pain was written on her face. People were shouting out to us, asking her to sign their t-shirts, or to pose for a picture. Half the onlookers were shouting out the name Prairie Sun.

I saw Mom's face tighten as she saw her secret identity go up in flames. The MCO agent and Dad were still spouting regulations at each other, more police had finally arrived and they had higher ups with them. Mom held me one handed for a minute, while she reached into a secret pocket of her purse, which had somehow stayed with her through the chaos, and pulled out her MID.

“Harold, we need to get this girl to a hospital,” Mom said.

The MCO agent tried to rush us, he bounced off of Dad, but that didn't stop him from shouting. “Do not listen to her. That girl and Prairie Sun are to be questioned by the MCO and will receive any necessary care from trained specialists.”

Moms' voice was like steel. “This girl was in a car accident after a violent kidnapping attempt and was doused in chemicals, I have a slug very close to my heart. We were defending ourselves, so I am requesting as an auxiliary constable an ambulance and an RCMP/MCO escort to the hospital, until a judge can determine who has jurisdiction.”

Harold took one look at the situation and pointed at four officers and an ambulance that just pulled up. “You will escort these two to the hospital. They are not to leave until this all sorted out.” He walked over to the MCO agents, as Mom staggered with me to the ambulance. “Agent Campbell, you will pick four agents to escort these two witnesses to the hospital. Not your power armoured unit, they have done nothing to warrant them, and we don't want you scaring the other patients. They will remain in the hallway of the hospital with the RCMP escort and will only intercede if either witness tries to leave the premises. Is that understood?”

“I must object to this intrusion in MCO affairs-”

Whatever the MCO guy was going to say was cut off as I was lifted into the ambulance and then the paramedics helped Mom inside. There was the sound of shouting outside, but I didn't care, the police weren't about to throw my parents to the dogs, and if they tried Mom and Dad wouldn't stand for it.

“I'm a level 3 regenerator, my blood is a biohazard,” Mom said weakly, when the paramedic went to look her over.

The paramedic backed off and opened a box with a face mask, and some heavy duty gear. “What about her?” the second one asked pointing at me.

“Treat her as a baseline, she's perfectly safe.”

A minute or two later, the ambulance started rolling. Mom was left largely alone, after they found her wound wasn't life threatening anymore. They had me take off my clothes which I found out was coated in chemicals to deal with electrical fires, then they flushed my eyes, mouth and nose, by then we had reached the hospital where Mom walked out her head held high and I was wheeled in under a nice protective blanket.

Reporters were already there, shouting questions at Mom and I, asking if it was true that I was her daughter, if this was a hit against her or her family, and more. The RCMP escort did their best to keep the reporters away, the MCO didn't care. For my part, I hid my face and wished the nightmare would just end.

**
Edmonton International Airport, Alberta
6pm, March 1st, 2007

Kota looked around nervously, gripping her phoenix necklace, feeling exposed in a thick white sweater, black tights and a knee length black skirt. She really wasn't comfortable in the clothes but wanted to wear the outfit for Mrs. Young. Now if only they could find her.

Theresa was walking around looking for any sign of their friends. They had been told that someone would meet them when they got off the plane, but no one had shown up. And once they'd gotten out of customs, there was still no one waiting for them. Kota tried to phone Mrs. Young for the tenth time, but once again a mechanical voice said the number was unavailable. Mr. Young and Estelle just didn't answer.

She wondered if they should get a taxi and drive to the house, or maybe their headquarters. The only problem was that would use up almost all of their money. They could wait a bit longer, the Young's were superheroes after all, and were probably held up stopping a crime or something.

“KOTA!” Theresa yelled at her.

Running to her friend, looking for any sign of danger like she'd been taught in survival class, Kota skidded to a stop beside a coffee shop where her roommate was staring at a tv in shock. Not really understanding what could be wrong, she looked to see what disaster had happened, her blood turned cold.

Mrs. Young was on tv, the video was shaky and poor quality but it was obviously her. Tears came to Kota's eye when she saw the blood soaked sweater, and the pain filled purple eyes. Mrs. Young was clutching a girl who was crying and covered in some kind of foam, Fly By was behind her talking to someone. The announcer said something about an attack and a kidnapping attempt against Prairie Sun and a young teenager who early reports were saying was her daughter. The video skipped to the woman looking around at the crowd who were calling her Prairie Sun. With shaking hands, she pulled out an ID card and walked rigidly to a police officer, it was hard to hear but it was possible to make out the police officer following her orders.

Kota listened carefully until the reporter said the name of the hospital Prairie Sun was being treated at. “Come on!” she said grabbing Theresa's hand and dragging her back to their suitcases.

“What are we going to do? Are they ok?” her friend asked.

“We're going to the hospital,” she said. Her voice left no room for argument, and the nervousness she'd been feeling before was gone.

**

Mom and I were kept in the same room. Mom was actually doing better then I was, she was still having chest pains, but the bullet had been removed and the the wound was sealed and healed up. If she hadn't run after the van, tearing the muscle even more, to save me, she would have been healthy by now. I felt like crap. My skin was covered in a rash, my eyes ached, and to top it all off my sinuses and throat hurt. The chemicals in the fire extinguishers they'd used to counter my electricity wouldn't kill me, but they weren't exactly healthy either, especially after they coated me in so much of it.

I was laying in bed listening to music from my MP3, letting the eye drops and ointment they'd given me do their thing, while Mom worked on her laptop sending messages to her lawyers, clients, agent, and friends. She wasn't showing it, but the exposure and the kidnapping attempt had her in shock. I saw it in the way she moved, how she'd kept asking Dad for more information, and the moments of soft crying she tried to hide from me.

For my part, I was trying not think. Everyone knew who Mom was, it wouldn't take long for my face to be on the net and tv. They'd know all about me, and they'd put two and two together like my friends already had about Target and Prairie Sun. Even if they didn't, with my using my powers like I had, it would be obvious who I was. What would my friends say? Would I be allowed to stay at school? Did I even want to stay at school?

It was easier to ignore everything and focus on the music. I was still in pain from the kidnapping, the fight, the accident, and to top it all off the pain killers they'd given me weren't working very well. They wouldn't let me shock myself either to get a charge which would at least help me feel a little better. If my skin wasn't so tight and itchy I might have been able to fall asleep.

The door opened. I heard a sob and running feet. Opening my eyes, I saw Kota wrapping her arms around Mom, while Theresa was looking at the two of us like she was afraid we were dead or something. Dad in his civilian clothes, stood in the doorway.

“Are you ok?!” Kota asked frantically. “We were at the airport and didn't see you, then we saw the news and we came as fast as we could! Who did this? Are you ok?!”

Mom pushed the girl back a little so they could look at each other. “I'm ok now, Kota, don't worry. I'm sorry we weren't there to get you. But we're ok and we're just here overnight for observation.”

Kota took a deep breath to calm herself down. “Estelle how are you doing?”

“Been better. Talking kind of hurts,” I admitted.

She came over and gave me a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Didn't you learn not to get into cars with strangers?”

I shrugged and smiled at the little joke. Then I noticed what she was wearing. “You're wearing a skirt.”

The tomboy blushed, and crossed her arms as if to cover her clothes. “I wanted to surprise your Mom. Since she got it for me at Christmas, I thought she should see me wear it at least once. I still prefer pants.”

“You look good dear. And thank you, I'm glad you gave it try,” Mom told her.

Dad gave a little cough. “Ok, girls. The nurses are starting to growl, you've seen them and said hello, now it's time to go. You'll stay at the headquarters for tonight, its safer and the reporters can't bother us as much there.”

Theresa gave Mom and I a hug, and a few words of encouragement, while Kota gave Mom another embrace before leaving. When the door shut, I got up and sat on the side of Mom's bed.

“What are we going to do about them?” I asked with my raspy voice.

She leaned her head back, letting it thump against the mattress. “I don't know. The school isn't going to be happy when the paparazzi's take their picture. But we can't easily put them back on a plane tonight, and they've probably already had their pictures taken just coming into the room. Sending them back to school tomorrow is already too late. And I think it could be worse for Kota to send her packing, than to keep her here for a few days while we weather the storm.”

“What about us?”

“You're father and I are going to hold a press conference tomorrow. We're also upgrading security at the house and getting a security team.”

“Ok, what about me? Do I go to the press conference? Will I be talking to reporters? What will they say about me and my... changes?” I asked.

She wrapped the blanket around her hand to pat my arm. “You are not talking to anyone or being put in the spotlight. They will get pictures of you, we can't stop that, and they will try to talk to you, but you are to not say anything or do anything that could be used against you. For now you are going back to school on Monday as planned, with a small team of body guards. After you finish the term, you will disappear, we'll say it's for your own safety. Then you'll be going to Whateley as a boy who is under the protection of Fly By and Prairie Sun, just like Theresa and the others we've helped. We'll start working on the paperwork next week so there aren't any problems when we need it.”

I felt my stomach drop. I knew they were coming up with a plan to slip me into the school without letting anyone know I used to be a girl, and I thought we'd do something like making me a nephew to deal with friends not in the know. But this... this was like they were disowning me. I was already trying to deal with coming up with a new first name, now I wasn't even going to have my last name.

Tears started to fall. “I don't want to just be some kid. I... I want to be yours!”

“I know. I know you do honey,” Mom cried with me, still holding my arm through the damn blanket. “But this is the best we can do to keep you safe.”

I hugged her. I didn't care that her skin was cold and hard, or that her hair felt like it was cutting me. Her breath was warm, and her tears were hot against my skin. I needed to hug my Mom. I deserved to hug her like so many other kids had. I shouldn't have to kiss her with my stuffed animals, or only give her a quick hug when we were both bundled up.

It wasn't fair and I was through with playing nice.

“I'm not hiding,” I said.

“What?”

It was my turn to push her back and look her in the eye. “I don't care what they say. I'm going to be your child when I go to Whateley and I don't care what people think.”

“Estelle, you're upset and not thinking clearly. Th-”

“You can have me at the news conference I won't say anything, but I'm going to be there. They'll see me soon enough anyways. And you will not throw me away once I change too much. If you try I'll talk to any reporter who will listen and tell them everything. You can either help control the message that comes out or watch me make a lot of mistakes,” I told her.

She glared at me. “No.”

Glaring right back, I laid down the facts. “Then you'd better lock me in my room with no computer, telephone or paper until I die. I'm your daughter, and soon I'm going to be your son, you can't get rid of me!”

We stared at each other in a battle of wills. Normally I'd have given up, but the threat of losing everything filled my spine with iron. They were not going to abandon me. I wouldn't let them. I couldn't hug them, or feel them properly, but there was no way they were going to take what little normality I had away from me.

She blinked. “You'll be at the news conference. But you are not to talk to any reporters about anything, or talk about your changes to anyone. We've got a few months to work things out, you WILL NOT jump the gun.”

“Ok.”

Mom wrapped me up in her blanket to give me a hug, even placing a piece of the fabric against my cheek to give me a kiss that wouldn't hurt. I let her tuck me into bed, and went back to listening to my music, blanking out the thoughts running through my head.

Much later, when Mom thought I was asleep, I heard her get out of bed and felt her leaning over me. Keeping my eyes shut, I wondered what she was doing. To my surprise, I heard her start sobbing, tears fell on my pillow and hair.

I opened my eyes, just able to make out her face which was twisted with grief in the darkness. I sat up and wrapped part of my blanket around her shoulders and breasts, hugging her to me I cried with her.

Downers Pub, Edmonton, Alberta
Morning of March 2nd, 2008

Super Bear walked up to the metal door of the criminal bar that was allowed to remain, so long as no obvious criminal actions happened on the site. It had that special privilege so that the heroes and the villains would have somewhere safe to share information, and no innocents would get hurt if a villain got too drunk one night and decided to cut loose.

As per the unofficial agreement, no heroes would show up in costume, but this wasn't normal times, and the heroes were in no mood to play nice. While Super Bear dented the door banging on it, Eddie, also known as Carapace was in full armour mode, looking like a humanoid beetle with razor sharp spines on his arms. Edmonton's two part-time heroes, Snowflake and Big Horn were behind them watching their backs.

A voice spoke through a hidden speaker. “Go away, we're closed for renovations.”

Super Bear pulled a pack of C-4 from his pocket, placing it on the door. “You have until I find the detonator for this C-4 to open the door, or your renovations are going to be a hell of a lot bigger than you planned.” he growled.

The door opened almost immediately. A single pretty boy, who had to be an exemplar from his looks was standing there, his hands held up and away from his sides. “Hey dudes, we don't want any trouble. We keep everything clean here and don't ask anybody questions. You got a problem with us, go talk to Fly By and Prairie Sun.”

“It's them we want to talk about,” Super Bear said shoving the bouncer aside.

The four heroes walked in, Snowflake paced around the edges of the large room her icy, white blue skin and armour reflecting the light and her footsteps leaving frost on the well polished hard wood floor. Big Horn closed the door behind them, leaning against it, with his rhinoceros like horn almost touching the ceiling, his dark grey, leathery skin seeming to absorb the light.

A well dressed man in black pants, a white button up shirt, and a mauve vest came out of the back room, polishing a wine glass. “I don't usually see superheroes here, but welcome to Downers Pub. My name is Benny, can I offer you a drink?”

Eddie started forward to get in Benny's face, Super Bear held him back. “We want to know everything that you know about the Blood Cult that attacked Vancouver a few months ago, and has been in the city looking for a girl.”

“Estelle Young,” Benny said. “Yes I heard about that, it's all the local news is talking about now. Of course it only concerns a minor hero in a small city, so I could listen to the news about the Middle East or Karedonia and never hear about it, but still for the area it's big news.”

“Don't act like it's not important, Prairie Sun almost died!” Eddie shouted.

Benny smiled. “So, I see the rumours are true. I wonder how Mr. Young feels about you fucking his wife?”

A jagged fist passed through the space where Benny's head had been. The bartender appeared by a shelf of glasses, and calmly put the one he'd been polishing beside it's mates. “Now, now, I am not a violent man. I deal in drinks, friendly chats, and information. I also like things to be discrete, unlike what you four are doing right now. When Fly By, who I consider a friendly acquaintance, as well as a good tipper, told me about the cult, I passed on the word within the hour, by the end of the next day, everyone who had any connections to the community in Edmonton and a few friends I have in nearby cities were made aware of the problem. They knew if they shared any useful information, they'd be rewarded by the heroes, and by myself. No one heard a thing until yesterday.”

“And yesterday?” Super Bear asked.

“Yesterday during the attack, several gang members downtown saw a number of cars suddenly speed away from a building all in the same direction, some of the men were cursing, asking what was going on and looking very upset. They returned soon after. Fifteen minutes later yet another car came up, it was burned on one side, and they had to help a man get out, his face was raw and blistered as if he had a very nasty sunburn.” Benny smiled. “Quite a coincidence isn't it?”

Growling, Super Bear reached into belt, pulling out a wad of cash. “How much?”

“I said Fly By is a friendly acquaintance, always polite, friendly, never causing trouble. And cults are bad for business. No charge. Here's the address,” a piece of paper appeared on the bar. “But move quickly, a little bird told me they're up to no good.”

Super Bear nodded, grabbed Eddie's arm and waved for the other two heroes to follow him outside.

**

Conference Room of Edmonton Heroes Headquarters
10am

I sat on stage staring as confidently as possible at the press who were waiting for my parents to speak. I wore my best pair of slacks and a white blouse with mother of pearl buttons, and my turquoise necklace and earrings. I could feel the energy surging in her, threatening to spark despite my best efforts, unfortunately the devises from Uncle Herb had been completely destroyed yesterday. So I was forced to concentrate on keeping my emotions nice and level. Not exactly the easiest thing in the world. At least Mom had warned me against wearing a skirt or dress, like I'd planned at first, she'd politely pointed out that there were going to be lots of cameras and when nervously crossing and uncrossing legs it was possible to accidentally let certain things show.

So pants it was.

Kota and Theresa were waiting upstairs well away from the camera's. Mom had called Whateley informing them of what had happened, and while they had recommended sending the girls back immediately and as secretly as possible, the way Kota had been looking at Mom since we got back from the hospital had Mom saying that wasn't possible. The person on the other end had been less than happy sounding, but there wasn't much she could do.

Mom and Dad came out, they were both dressed in conservative suits and looked like they usually did for press conferences, but the tension in the room was all different. Dad spoke first.

“Thank you all for coming. We realize this was abrupt, but after the incident yesterday we feel that it's best to clear the air as quickly as possible. As has been rumoured for years my wife and I are Prairie Sun and Fly By.” The reporters started shouting questions, which made Mom and Dad step back from the podium until their was silence.

“All evening yesterday and this morning, there have been people asking if our daughter is the mutant who manifested and stopped the mass sacrifice in Vancouver,” Mom said. She paused a moment, steadying herself. “That is also true.”

The camera's turned on me, snapping my picture as I gave them a very small smile. I wasn't in the mood to play for the camera like I usually did.

“I am going to ask that after the press conference you respect the privacy of our daughter who is not a public figure and has no desire to be one,” Mom continued after a short pause. “Yes, she has been declared a hero for what she did in Vancouver, but that was her manifesting event. Since then she has happily returned to her normal life, and the horrific events of yesterday have impressed on her that being a superhero is not for her.”

The next fifteen minutes was all about why they felt the need to keep their identity secret, how nothing would change in policing the city, and reiterating that they were private citizens and granted the same right to privacy as everyone else. Then it was time for questions.

“Mark Meyer, GNN, will you be returning the money you received after suing certain parties seventeen years ago, when they revealed your civilian identities?” a reporter asked.

Dad took that one. “No we will not. The situation with the GNN affiliated magazine, was not that they revealed our identities, but that they did not consult us first putting our friends and family in danger. It was unprofessional, dangerous and considering the other articles the publication had used before then, vindictive.”

“Will your daughter continue to go to school with baseline students?” another reporter asked, I recognized him as one of the ones my parents liked, and frequently used to ask certain questions and report stories from angles that they wanted, without appearing pro-mutant or hero.

“She has been going to a private school since she was eleven, and there has never been any cause for concern. Are you suggesting that she should not get an education?” Mom asked.

“Well is it safe for a mutant to be learning her powers alongside other normal students?”

“Certain powers can possibly,” she stressed that word, “be dangerous to others. That's why we work with the MCO for powers testing, and encourage young mutants to contact us to learn how to use their powers in a safe environment. Once that is done, and believe me we have worked extensively with our daughter in that regard, they can learn, work and play alongside baselines with no real concerns. What would be a better option, setting up reservations for mutants in some out of the way place, so that they can be kept out of sight and out of mind?”

Another reporter, who my parents did not like stepped forward. “What about the rumours that have been circulating for years that you have kidnapped mutant children from their families. You're well known for hosting teenagers at your home, declaring them friends of the families, yet we never see their parents?”

“As we have said every time you bring up that question, Tyler, if we have kidnapped any child we encourage the parents to come and speak to us or the police. We have done nothing wrong, who we associate with is of no concern of yours, and we will continue respecting the privacy of our friends and guests,” Dad said.

There were dozens of more questions, and I lasted twenty minutes before I quietly left the stage, unable to keep my energy contained anymore. My parents had told me to leave if it became too much, because having me start to spark uncontrollably wouldn't look very good on camera after saying how safe and well trained I was.

A quick trip upstairs to the workout room, and I was wearing a spare outfit I kept in a locker for working out, pounding away at a punching bag for all I was worth. I heard the door open and expected to see Kota and Theresa, but it was Annie, she looked terrible. The blue feathers that made up her hair were puffed up and her eyes were bloodshot.

“Oh Estelle! Are you ok?” she asked, embracing me.

I hugged her back. And in the warm soft arms, the barrier that had been up since the day before holding back my thoughts and memories of the day shattered. Images and sensations flooded my mind. Not just seeing Mom getting shot and being hurt, but smelling burning flesh, knowing that I had done it, hearing the scream from the driver as he died. It wasn't like in the movies where it was quick and easy. I smelled the gun smoke, and the blood again, the groans of pain. It was as bad as the sacrifice in November.

Putting my head on her shoulder I cried like a baby.

Vaguely I was aware of someone else hugging me. When I finally stopped crying I saw that Kota and Theresa had come into the gym at some point and were holding me as I sat and cried on the floor. Annie picked me up. “Come on, lets get you cleaned up. Have you eaten anything,” she asked.

I shook my head. I'd only picked at the breakfast the hospital had served.

With Kota and Theresa's help I was able to clean myself up a little, while Annie ordered in a big lunch. As I dried my face, they started telling me everything they had done since January. It sounded so normal. Kota had made a few friends, mostly just Theresa's friends, but also Rona and a girl called Ruth, she sounded happier. Theresa was talking about maybe going to stay with her boyfriend's family for a lot of the summer.

By the time the food arrived, I was calmed down again. I felt terrible, but the crying was over with. As we settled down to eat, Mom and Dad rushed in. “Estelle, we have an emergency, you'll be ok here?” Mom asked.

“Yeah,” I replied, trying not to sound too bad.

She ran off without a word, while Dad gave me a small smile before following her.

“What are they doing?” Theresa asked.

“Their jobs. They have lots of free time, but when something happens they have to be there,” I said.

Annie stroked my hair, then began serving everyone. With all three encouraging me, I started to eat some pineapple chicken.

“Kota, how did you pick your name?” I asked.

“I needed to tell the Windy City Guardians something. And I remember watching War Of The Worlds with Dakota Fanning, it didn't sound too bad so I picked it,” she told me. “Have you thought of any names?”

“I've been making a list. Ellison, Skylar, Ashley, Erin, Aubrey, Emory, Riley, Sydney, Taylor, a bunch of others,” I told them.

Kota gave me a small frown, “Most of those are girls names.”

“They're used by both. I checked.”

“You know what would be a good name? Clark Kent Young. Because you're parents are superheroes,” Theresa chimed in.

Kota snorted. “You want her going to a school of mutants with a name like that! Just call her Logan to really fit the cliche.”

And with that the great name debate was on, as everyone gave their opinion.

**
Downtown Edmonton

The apartment was straight out of a nightmare. Ten bodies laid out in a pentagram, there skin lacerated, entrails pulled from gaping stomach wounds, a mark burned onto their foreheads, and a knife in their hands. A man, if you could call the bloody, eyeless, mutilated creature who somehow was still talking as he castrated himself, a human, stood at the center of the pentagram as people in dark red robs chanted around him.

“Father hear my sins. I allowed the god shard to escape. My failure came of haste, and not following the orders of thy priests. Accept my body, my blood, my soul, and send forth that who can achieve your will,” he said through bloody lips and toothless gums.

Prairie Sun felt sick as she watched the live video of the cultists lair, it had taken Super Bear hours to get his drones to see past the magical defenses. She wished that someone who knew magic was there, she hated dealing with the stuff and this looked very bad. “Super Bear, did your drones find the guards?”

The screen switched to a map of the interior, circles showed where every known cultists was, dark red for guards, red for those doing other tasks, light red for those sleeping. Fly By and the other heroes studied it closely.

“I wish we had more time,” her husband said.

“We don't. That ceremony is almost done, so let's get in there and stop it now,” Carapace, her lover, said.

She reached out and put a hand on her husband's shoulder pad with one hand, and behind his back clasped Carapace's bare hand in her own. Big Horn let out a harsh laugh at the sight, until Snowflake jabbed him in the ribs.

“What's the plan, honey?” she asked Fly By.

“The ceremony has to be stopped at all cost. You, Big Horn, and Super Bear go in the front door, you're the strongest, make some noise get their attention. Carapace and I will go in through these windows, and take out the last sacrifice a minute or two after you enter. Snowflake, you're back up, and our eyes outside. Be ready to come in and support either team if something goes wrong.” He looked at them grimly, only she could see the fear hidden deep within his eyes. “We have permission to use deadly force. These men are willing to kill anyone and anything to bring about the end of the world, don't hold back.”

There were a few questions confirming details and clarifying others, but they all knew they were on the clock, so it only took a few minutes. Prairie Sun squeezed Carapace's hand, then kissed her husband on his masked cheek, wondering if this might be the last time she saw either one of them.

She walked outside with the other two heroes, past the Swat vans that were ready to move in as backup, while the other three flew to their positions, staying low and keeping buildings between themselves and the target.

“So Sun, how can I get in on that MILF action?” Big Horn asked.

“Horn, we're going into deadly combat, do you really want to piss me off more than you usually do just by breathing?” she asked, not looking at him.

Super Bear chuckled at the sudden silence.

They came to the street where the nearly abandoned apartment waited. Police had been redirecting traffic for the last five minutes, so there were just some people walking along, not many considering the rundown neighbourhood. Super Bear threw a large drone into the air and there was a faint shimmering around them. To all eyes they'd just be a bit of haze drifting down the street.

The door was the most obvious way to enter, so there were according to the drones four heavily armed men. Since they were dealing with a proven apocalyptic cult of mass murderers, the usual rules were not in effect. Tapping Big Horn on the shoulder and pointed at a part of the wall that was suppose to be the sleeping quarters for some of the cultists. The goon grinned and nodded.

Pounding his chest, which he claimed was needed to really build up power, Big Horn ran at the wall slamming a brawny shoulder into it. The wall exploded as if hit by a bomb.

Ignoring the dust and haze, they followed Big Horn inside, tossing stun grenades and sleepy gas to either side, relying on the filters in their masks and abilities to deal with everything.

There was shouting from the hallway, overpowered by Big Horns roar and the rapid crack of machine guns filled the hallway. Super Bear tore through a wall into the next door apartment, letting his PFG take the brunt of the blow, flash bangs went off as he kept going through the next wall. With her hard skin and armour, Prairie Sun wasn't worried about the bullets, but rather than follow Big Horn's path of destruction, she charged into the apartment across the hall not bothering to open the door.

There were five men and and women in the room grabbing guns. There wasn't enough time for them to react before she dropped two flash bangs on both sides of the room, kicked and punched them while they were dazed and threw down a sleepy gas canister and ran out the door on the heels of the explosion.

The next room was harder, and she felt slugs hitting the Kevra armour, it didn't hurt much, no more than a slap for a baseline. With her smile hidden behind her mask, she drew her crowbar and in ten seconds had broken both arms of the shooter and her three companions who were trying to get their own weapons up. She didn't bother with sleepy gas, the bones were shattered, and would need months to heal .

Heading into the hallway, she heard fighting in an apartment down the hall. A few people were lying in the hallway, they'd been trampled and shoved through walls. The entire bottom floor went the same way. There wasn't any challenge to it, not that they'd expected much. But as the three heroes gathered at the main stairs going up, they could hear running feet and people shouting orders. They'd done their job, everyone knew they were there. The police sirens wailed outside, warning people to get off the street as swat teams prepared to head inside and arrest the the survivors.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Oh yeah!” Big Horn shouted.

Super Bear nodded, tossing three balls up the stairs, they ricocheted off the walls, going higher up before exploding. Prairie Sun led the charge, the crowbar hitting the jaw of the only person still standing.

**

Fly By, Carapace, and Snowflake waited as the sound of explosions, screams and bullets got louder. Snowflake, who had only started superheroing part time a year ago after graduating college, was biting her nails, which sounded like she was chewing ice. Carapace was buzzing his insect wings, in irritation, and his claws were carving into the bricks of the building.

While the two younger heroes looked tense and nervous, Fly By watched the action in his mind, following his wife's every move thanks to the devise that let them read each others mind. It was the closest they could come to really touching, and they used them almost constantly. Only when they needed true physical contact with someone else did they take the devises off. Now he felt Sun's pent up rage at what had almost happened to their daughter. He doubted that she knew just how close to going berserk she really was, he could tell because he was one step removed, and had spent years focusing on his emotions where she had gone for the body.

Wincing involuntarily, he saw and felt his wife snap the neck of a suicide bomber. If they hadn't had permission to use deadly force he never would have agreed to the two of them taking part. It would have led to an epic fight, but while they argued the others could probably have handled the cultists.

Windows blew out, showering the street and police below in bits of debris and glass shards. Closing his eyes, he saw that Big Horn was down, alive, but out of the fight for a few seconds at least. Super Bear, bloody from his PFG being overloaded, threw a cultist through a wall, and fired his tazer rifle into the smoke.

Sun was completely silent, a very bad sign. Someone rushed out of the smoke, holding a row of grenades. She grabbed him by his shirt, spun him around and sent him hurtling back, from the startled cries she'd hit a small group of cultists. There was an explosion and he felt her excitement at cutting loose.

'Sun! Calm down!' he mentally yelled at her.

'They want to die for their god. I'm helping them,' she thought back, stalking into the smoke.

'We're suppose to try to take them alive. You're not a murderer.'

'They tried to kill our daughter! They wanted to kill all those children!' she screamed.

'You're not their executioner!' he roared back.

'They're child killers. They deser-'

Whatever she'd been thinking was cut off in an explosion that rocked the building he was standing on. “Move it! That's our cue!” he shouted. “Snowflake go check on them, second floor, near the main stairs.”

He and Carapace jumped over the side and flew through the upper windows of the apartment where the ritual was occurring. The smell of the blood, sweat, incense and oils was overwhelming, gagging, he fired a force bolt at the man sacrificing himself, while Carapace went towards the head priest.

Fly By felt his bolt shatter against a shield. He sighed, knowing it couldn't have been that easy, but hoping for a break. Carapace was having no more luck, a tattooed man was grappling with him. Despite the hero's strength, he was being pushed back. A nasty kick with a clawed foot to the tattooed man's knee didn't have any affect.

Ignoring the two bricks, Fly By shot at the priests and chanting cultists. That went better, knocking the fanatics to the ground. The tattooed man snarled, and slammed Carapace through the floor. Fly By tried to move back, putting distance between himself and the brick, but it was no good in the confined room. The man grabbed him and squeezed. Even with the kevra suit, and his stronger than normal body, he felt his bones bending, his back popped and he heard his left arm cracking.

Sending bolt after bolt of TK straight into the face of his attacker, let him wriggle out of the deadly grip, gasping for breath and wanting to cradle his arm and body. But there wasn't time, he flew backwards, firing more bolts at the man.

It wasn't enough. Before he made it five feet, the man was on him again, driving a knee into his stomach, and as Fly By doubled over, gagging, a fist hit the back of his head slamming him face first into the floor. He felt his nose shatter.

Carapace crawled out of the hole in the floor.

“Carapace, help!” he shouted, struggling focus.

The hero took a look at the scene, as the tattooed man began stomping on Fly By's back, shaking the floor with every hit. The bug like hero turned and ran at the priests some of whom were still chanting, knocking them down once more.

Fly By didn't have time to care about the betrayal, his spine was about to break, and the sharp stabbing pain let him know there were internal injuries. Flicking his hand up in a special move, a flare caught the attacker in the face. It didn't do any damage, but the man instinctively jumped back from the flames. Not bothering to move physically, Fly By flew up and away, throwing his hardest TK bolts wildly behind him.

**

Prairie Sun got to her knees, shaking her head, blood dripped from her mask. She saw Super Bear groaning in pain his pink fur singed and smoking. Big Horn who had taken the brunt of the explosion was unconscious, only the gasping wheeze that was barely audible over the ringing in her ears let her know he was alive.

Snowflake appeared in a gust of windswept snow, she took one look at the situation and sent a thin sheet of frost over Super Bear smothering the sparks and burns. Sun waved off the young heroine as she went to check her over, Big Horn needed help more than she did.

It was hard to breathe, her mask was soaked with blood filling her nostrils and mouth every time she took a breath. She chuckled, dazed from a concussion, there wasn't any need for a mask now. Ripping it off, she spit, trying to clear her mouth. Concentrating on the devise, which was difficult as waves of dizziness kept making her want to vomit, she got a mental image of pain and blood. She saw Carapace coming out of a hole in the ground, as Fly By was pummeled.

The shock she felt as her lover ignored her husband, turning instead to attack the priests was like a dagger. They'd done so much for him. Got him onto the Vancouver Heroes Corp, helped him pay for his house, her stock advice had made him close to a millionaire. She'd given her body to him, doing things for him that she'd never done for Steve even when they could touch each other, and her husband had still treated him as a best friend.

Grunting with the effort, she went to the stairs, ripping a piece of twisted metal railing from the banister. Fighting off a wave of nausea, she ran up the stairs.

**

Fly By shot the tattooed man in the back, with one hand while trying to blast through the shield protecting the cultist who continued to mutilate himself, apologizing and begging for forgiveness at ordering his team to attack the god shard before everything was ready.

Carapace was just trying to survive as his shell cracked under the powerful blows of the tattooed man who ignored the annoying TK blows. White pus leaked from the dents and damage. The cultist didn't know how to do more than street brawl, but he had enough strength that he didn't need the skill.

There was a blur, a woman's scream of rage, and the impervious cultists chest bulged a little. The man looked down in amazement, took a few steps forward and fell a metal rod sticking out of his back through his spine.

Fly By didn't waste time on words, instead turning his entire attention on breaking the shield. He still watched what was happening from the corner of his eye, his wife's thoughts were murderous, but there was nothing he could do except push a thread of calmness into her mind.

“Sun...” Carapace began to speak, swaying and shaking his dazed head.

She grabbed her former lover, spun and threw him through the outside wall. Twenty seconds later, every one of the dozen or so cultist in the room was unconscious or worse, and Sun was slamming into the shield at full speed, over and over again. As the shield held, refusing to even budge, Fly By heard his wife begin to scream, getting a little louder with every hit, until her screams of rage was all that could be heard.

The cultist in the pentagram ignored them. Throwing his testicles to the ground, he stabbed himself just above his waist and dragged the knife upwards. Reaching into the wound he grabbed hold of his intestines and pulled. As his organs fell, he plunged the knife into his heart.

The gore began to bubble and writhe. The dead bodies screeched, raising their arms in supplication as the blood rose, swirling. Fly By looked away, his brain tried and failed to comprehend what was forming in the center of the pentagram. He saw Sun pounding and kicking the shield heedless of the obscenity growing within it.

There was a shriek from a thousand demons and something erupted, tearing a hole through the ceiling as it escaped.

When it didn't come back to kill them, Fly By felt his blood turn to ice. Racing to Sun, who was tearing apart the now unprotected pentagram he slapped her as hard as he could. “SUN! It's going after Estelle!”

His wife became deathly still as the words sank in. Her face slowly twisted into something he'd never seen before. For the first time ever he was afraid of her.

Then she was gone. From the hole in the wall there was the sound of metal crumpling and shouts of surprise. By the time he got to the window Prairie Sun was gone, a police car with a crumpled hood told the story.

Flying down, he went to the man in charge. “Contact the station, a demon is about to attack it's going after Estelle.”

Theresa, Kota and I were watching the news to see how my parents were doing. When the explosion rocked the building, the two girls screamed, I took it in stride. It hadn't taken the building down, so Mom was probably all right. Seeing Eddie battered and his manifested shell leaking what he called his shock gel, come flying through a brick wall and hitting the building on the other side of the street had me start to panic. I don't like the guy, but he's a three hundred kilo bug, whoever was strong enough to do that was not someone I wanted my parents fighting.

Two minutes later when the roof exploded, and... something came flying out, followed twenty seconds later by Mom jumping out of the building and running after it, and I was on the edge of my seat.

Then the alarms went off.

Police came running in. “Estelle, come with me,” a lieutenant who was in charge of general security that day said, grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet. Other officers began to usher Kota and Theresa out of the room and not in the same direction.

“What's going on?” I demanded.

He didn't slow down to answer as we jogged to the elevator surrounded by heavily armed officers. “We believe a summoned entity is coming for you. You're being put into a safe room until it can be stopped.”

That shut me up and I actually began running faster than him. The staff was going into emergency procedures, the general workers going to the safe room which could withstand an explosion that would take down the building, and the guards who were heading for the armoury. Visitors to the gallery and gift shop were being hustled out through emergency exits leading straight into the police station.

I knew from the emergency test runs, that this section was being sealed off from the rest of the building, giving the police time to prepare the SWAT teams. This was the first time that anyone other than a few crazy people armed with basic weapons, had actually planned on attacking the building. With the heroes and defenses in place, along with the police and their heavy weapons, only the biggest villains would want to risk it, and Edmonton is too small and unimportant for the big villains to bother with. The biggest attack was by Dr. Diabolic almost fifteen years ago, which my parents really didn't like talking about, and that was mostly a simple smash and grab on a citywide scale.

So everyone was looking worried as we headed downstairs to a very secure basement, that was primarily used to hold very dangerous supervillains in isolation. Before the elevator was halfway down we heard a screech that couldn't be made from anything on earth.

The radio came to life, telling police where to go, asking if I was secure yet, ordering anyone who wasn't suppose to fight the thing to get away from the top floor, avoid stairwells, and the elevator. Then we heard the screams and gunshots over the radio as officers called for reinforcements.

I grabbed the lieutenants arm and pressed myself against him as if he could protect me from whatever that thing was. He and the other officers ignored me, double checking that their guns were in place, feeling their body armour, muttering prayers, getting ready to die.

The second the elevator door opened, we ran down the hall. Steel vault like doors slammed shut behind us, I could feel the electricity being turned on, making them lethal to the touch as soon as they were fully closed. Force fields surrounded them, probably causing brownouts in the city, this section was made to hold the worst possible threats that could kill hundreds or thousands if not contained it had top priority for resources. We reached the end of the hall, where ten officers were already waiting, hastily donning their gear. The cell was open, and I didn't stop running until I was inside, three of the officers joined me. The door slammed shut, the slight flicker of a forcefield surrounded the entire room. There was a chair, a bed, a squat toilet with a shower head above it in the corner.

It was absolutely silent except for the nervous shuffling of feet, the creak of the heavy body armour, and our breathing.

Sitting on the bed, I really wished that Mom and Dad were with me.

The lights flickered, and the room shook. I could hear the sound of gun fire along with some small explosions.

Tapping my belt, I charged myself up to the point where I was feeling giddy. Sparks began to fly off of me, much to the discomfort of the police.

The screeching started again. It sounded close. The lights flickered again and there was the sound of metal being ripped apart, as if it was tinfoil.

'Estelle Georgina Young, by your true name and blood I come to collect,' a voice whispered in my head.

I gave a small cry of fear, looking around the room to see who was talking to me. Backing into a corner, I started whimpering.

Metal shrieked again, and the police outside opened fire. It wasn't controlled firing, but wild, empty the clip as fast as you can hoping something dies firing. It ended very quickly.

'Estelle Georgina Young, I am here,' the voice spoke again.

The door exploded off of its hinges, as if the forcefield wasn't there, cutting a police officer in half. A monstrous hand on an unnaturally long arm appeared through the door. The two surviving officers opened fire. The red mottled arm twisted like a snake grabbing the nearest office by the leg. The man's scream was high pitched and warbling, I covered my ears sliding down.

The monster swung the police officer into his partner. They hit the forcefield and crumpled. The hand felt their bodies, found their necks, inch long talons pierced their throats. The blood seemed to rush out, the hand moved quickly, catching it, absorbing it into the slimy, sickly looking skin.

Screaming, I started to pray, knowing I was going to die.

The body of the thing finally came into view. It looked a little like a sea slug, a long body that moved bonelessly on hundreds of limbs, but the limbs themselves were a parody of real animals. Oversized claws, bloody fur that seemed more like needles, grasping hands that grew and shrank with every step, bug like feet dripping with acid, hooves that were razor sharp cracking the hard steel floor. It came towards me, a dozen hands reaching out to envelop me.

I couldn't think, only react. I sent every bit of energy into a blast that sent it rolling backwards through the doorway, bellowing in pain and anger. The arms became longer, still reaching for me, even as the monster rolled and writhed trying to escape the blast.

Slamming my bracelets against my belt, I let the energy surge around me burning the hands, before they touched my skin. As they recoiled, I sent another blast at the creature, catching it in the gaping maw.

It threw its hands in front of its body, slowly moving towards me as if it was fighting a strong wind. As my charge wore down, I hit my belt again, and again and again, my skin was hot and tight. Opening my mouth I hit it with everything I had.

The arms turned into smoking pools of slime, the slimy, leathery skin dried and cracked. But it kept coming. As I started to faint, I felt a hand grab me.

The only thing I remember after that was moving quickly, surrounded by blackness, the smell of blood and gunpowder and Mom screaming my name.

**

Late Afternoon

“We can help you,” Kota said, as Steve packed her suitcase, he was wearing his spare Fly By uniform sans the mask. Theresa already had her things ready to go and was standing awkwardly off to the side.

“I know you want to help, but you're a teenager, not a hero. It's safer and better if you go back to Whateley. As soon as we get Estelle back, we'll phone you to let you hear the good news, but right now it's not safe,” he told her.

Evelyn walked into the room, she was also in her costume without a mask, her face drawn and pale. Moving slowly, she scooped both girls into her arms. “Please, Kota, go back to Whateley. I want you back here for the summer, but right now, I... I need to make sure no one else gets hurt. Please.”

“Ok,” Kota said softly, feeling how Sun's body softly shook as she held back tears. “Don't get hurt.”

“I'll try.”

Two police officers escorted them out of the room so they could catch their plane back to Whateley. Evelyn was grateful the girls wouldn't have to walk through the bloody corridors of the top floor and the basement. There were a few places in between where the demon had found an unlucky person either trying to get to a safe place, or trying to stop it, for most of them they'd be using DNA and dental records to find out who they were, but they were well marked out and easily avoided by a few minor detours.

She went to her husband who was putting on a braver face then she was, but couldn't hide his feelings from her. Hugging him she put her head on his shoulder and tried not to cry. This was all her fault. If she hadn't taken Estelle to the school assembly in Vancouver, she'd be safe at home now. They wouldn't have had their personal lives ripped open. They wouldn't be faced with reporters whenever they tried to go outside. And her baby wouldn't be god alone knew where, helpless and alone.

Steve held her close, but not tightly, breathing on her skin but not touching her. Just letting her pretend that they were a normal couple and not cursed to never really touch each other ever again. He stiffened but didn't move his hands and Evelyn realized that someone was behind them.

Turning she saw Eddie watching them. Before when she saw him, her body would tingle at the thought of his touch. She didn't love him, but she needed physical contact she couldn't get from her husband. Steve was the same way, they found the physical pleasure elsewhere, but for everything else they were together.

“What do you want?” she asked, keeping her voice very level.

“Today,” Eddie started, and stopped. “I was trying to stop the ritual. I thought Steve could handle it on his own. Please, you have to believe me.”

Evelyn tapped the ear bud. “I saw you. I felt Steve getting crushed. He had fractures all along his rib cage, and his internal organs were badly bruised. He was being stomped to death and you turned away.”

Steve put his hands around her shoulders, offering his silent support, letting her deal with her mess in her way, but ready to step in if necessary.

“NO! I would never... I owe you both so much, and I wouldn't do anything to hurt you.” He got down on his knee reaching for her hand.

She usually liked his extravagant gestures, it was one reason she'd chosen him, but now was not the right time. “You saw my husband getting beaten to death, and you were going to help him when you hesitated and turned away. Did you think I would fall into your arms if Steve died? That you could sweep me up off my feet and carry me away?”

“How can you say that? After all that we've done. I love you, and I think of Steve as a brother.”

“You love me, but you don't realize that I don't love you. I'm sorry, I should have dropped you two years ago before you got too attached.”

He looked at her like a hurt puppy dog.

“Steve and I can't satisfy all of our needs, so we look elsewhere. It took a lot of years to admit that, but it kept us sane and together. Despite that, we are still in love and nothing is going to get between us,” she said. “You think you can have a future with me, but you can't. It was fun for you, and filling a need for me. I shouldn't have led you on like I did, but I considered you a good friend.”

“Considered?” he asked, his voice taking a dangerous edge.

“You let my husband get hurt. It was spur of the moment, so I won't go beyond throwing you through a wall. But that is all I'm willing to grant you.”

He started to speak, his lips and face twisted with anger. He stopped, punched a wall and stormed away. Evelyn watched him go, feeling a very small twinge of regret. She had liked him, but only as a friend. Turning back to Steve, she led him back into the guest room, where they sat on the bed and waited for word on their daughter, gently holding each other, desperately wanting to do more.

**

I woke up being dumped on a hard cement floor.

'My work is done. Retrieved the one whose true name you told and whose blood you fed me,' the thing hissed in my mind.

“We thank you, honoured seeker. But won't you stay?” a woman asked.

'Asked to seek the one true named Estelle Georgina Young. I found her and brought her. No more was asked.'

“But what if the infidels come? How can we complete the work of the Blood Father?”

The creatures voice sounded amused almost. 'You ask more of me? Can you pay my price?'

There was a sound of cloth rustling and footsteps moving back. “I am sorry for my impertinence, honoured seeker. You have done your job well, and may return to paradise, where we the faithful wish to go after completing the great works here on Earth.”

I felt the thing leave, the air became easier to breathe, and my skin didn't crawl so much. I couldn't move, my body felt like a limp noodle, so I very carefully opened my eyes a little, keeping my head still. I couldn't actually see much, just a metal screen all around me.

“Get the God Shard ready as planned, while we prepare the ceremony,” the woman said.

I expected them to pick me up and drag me to a locked room where I'd be forced to wait until they were ready to do god only knew what to me. Instead a man grabbed my blouse and ripped it open.

I was punching him before my eyes were even open, but with the exhaustion it was like punching a brick wall, he didn't even flinch as I lightly tapped his stomach. Jerking me up, the nice white blouse came off, and I flopped back on the floor. I tried to tap my bracelets to my belt, but there was a whine declaring it was out of power. I started screaming for help. With one hand holding my stomach so I couldn't jerk away, he undid my belt and slacks and pulled them off. I was screaming and cursing, feebly hitting his arm for all the good it did me. He just grabbed my panties and ripped them off, my bra went the same way. Taking me by the arm, he took off my bracelet, and then the other one. For a final bit of humiliation he took off my socks, leaving me completely naked, and trying to cover myself.

He didn't seem to care that he had a pretty, young girl completely naked in front of him. He put my things into a pile, picked me up over his shoulder and took me to a tiny room. Throwing me onto the bed he left, locking the door behind him.

A few minutes of desperately fighting down a panic attack from thinking I'd been about to be raped immediately after being kidnapped by a demon and seeing people murdered right in front of me, I was mostly functional, if you count being weak as a kitten as functional.

Pulling the dusty blanket around me, for decency and warmth in the cool March air, I searched the room. There was a sink with a clean glass, a plastic bucket and some toilet paper, the bed, a tiny vent that a rat might fit through, old dirty brick walls, and a metal door. Pushing against the brick wall at various points showed that while it was old and dirty, I wasn't about to break through any walls unless I was fully charged. With the way I was feeling and the slow build up of my natural charge, I was really hoping they would wait until late the next day to do anything.

Sitting back on the bed, completely out of breath after that little bit of exploring, I laid down and tried to sleep. It wasn't easy, but I had to try so I'd be prepared and ready to run when the opportunity arrived.

**

Pouring gasoline into the barrel he had brought into the Faraday cage the cult had specially made for just this occasion, the cultist lit a match and threw it in. The clothes, and jewelry the God Shard had been wearing burned quickly. Satisfied that any possible tracking devices were destroyed or well on the way to being destroyed, he threw on some lumber and enjoyed the fire, thinking about how beautiful it was, and how beautiful it would be to see the whole world burn just like it.

Finally walking away, the cultist didn't realize the bracelets were made to handle worse punishment than a little fire. An electrical signal that usually went off every two hours, just to let Super Bear know that Estelle was safe and where she was suppose to be, switched to a subspace frequency, beeping urgently as sensors detected the increasing heat of the fire.

**

Late evening

Herb thundered into the room where Steve and Evelyn were sleeping. The bears eyes were bloodshot, his fur badly singed, and he had an almost jerky way of moving that spoke of devisor drugs meant to clear the mind and let someone work well past the point of exhaustion.

“Get up! I found her!”

Years of training came to the fore, and the two heroes were out of bed grabbing their weapons before they were fully awake.

“You found Estelle?” Evelyn said, barely believing it was possible.

“I had a subspace tracker in her bracelets, it goes off if they're damaged,” he explained. “The signal was really weak, so it took a few hours to triangulate it, the batteries have to be virtually dead, but I have her within a one block area.”

The two frantic parents moved even faster, and were running out the door a minute later. Jumping into Herbs' modified SUV, they took a back exit to avoid the media circus outside.

**

An hour or two after throwing me into the locked room, five women came for me. I was still too weak to fight so rather than waste the energy, I let them dress me in a long, dark red robe that felt clammy and sticky. I desperately tried not to think about where the red had come from or why it smelled a little like iron. Pungent oil was dripped onto my hair, I gasped in pain as they held me and the oldest woman slashed five, deep, parallel marks on both my arms.

The woman dipped her finger in the first cut and used my blood to draw a symbol on my forehead. She did the same with each cut, covering my face and neck in strange runes that tingled and itched with an energy I couldn't seem to use.

Dragging me from the room, each woman singing a strange song, I was taken to a a room that was covered in symbols and artifacts, each one drawn or coated in blood. My mind tried to figure out how many people had died for the ritual.

Manacles were placed on my wrists and ankles. I screamed as they closed, jagged pins lined the inside, cutting into my skin, causing more blood to flow.

Twenty people came into the room, each one painted red, singing and chanting.

Helpless, I screamed, begging anyone who was listening up there to send help. The chanting got louder.

It was almost impossible to think.

I could feel something touching me. My skin twitched and my body recoiled as the filthy thing that I couldn't see explored my body, getting under my skin, leaving a layer of filth everywhere it touched. The chanting was beating against my brain, numbing my senses, yet forcing me to notice everything that was happening around me. I tasted the blood of the cultists who flayed their skin catching the blood into a cup of bone and forced it into my mouth. The bloody symbols on my face grew hotter, it felt like they were burning through my skin, I could actually see the symbols clearly in my mind. They cut me every few minutes, or hours, or seconds, I couldn't tell anymore, a small cut felt like they had peeled the skin off my body.

My screams had stopped long ago, I didn't have any energy left in me. But even as I begged for it, unconsciousness didn't come.

As the thing touching me moved further under my skin, making itself comfortable in my body, one thought kept me sane. My parents were coming.

**

Prairie Sun ran from one building to the next, drones were exploring more closely, but they were slower than she was. She had terrified workers and homeless in the poor block of run down buildings, by breaking doors down running, demanding to know if they saw anything and if she didn't believe them searching the building at a run. A very small voice at the back of her head told her that their was going to be hell to pay, the rest of her mind shouted it down. She was going to save her daughter or die trying.

Super Bear came on the radio. “Sun, she's in the basement of the apartment at the end of the street. I don't know about traps, guards or anything else, but get their fast.”

“How's Estelle?” she asked, jumping out a window to the street below.

The pause was short, but long enough for her to get to the apartment. “She's in the basement, they're doing something to her. We'll be there in a minute.”

The front door shattered under her impact. Two men watching for trespassers weren't given a chance to scream or fight, grabbing them at a run their necks snapped back from whiplash. To turn the tight corner, she slammed them into the wall, softening her own impact as she turned direction. Jumping down the stairs, she didn't look back to see if the two men were dead or just unconscious.

Practically ripping the railing out of the wall, her feet briefly touched the ground to change direction and then she was wall running down the next flight of stairs. She was still doing an impressive 60kph in the basement. Stopping very briefly, she listened for the cultists, pulling out a baton made of pure iron and blessed by a priest.

Sun heard chanting from down the hall. Sprinting down the hall, she peered around the corner. There was a shout, and a single guard raised his gun. She threw a blunt dart, striking and breaking his shoulder, she followed it up by snapping the baton off his skull as she ran past.

The chanting continued.

Entering the room she almost came to a stop in horror.

Estelle was hanging by her wrists covered in blood, looking dead except for the tears running down her cheeks. A thing of blackness dripping blood cloaked most of her body. Her daughters' skin bulged and writhed like a living thing where the demon touched her. The chanters didn't stop, they didn't even look in her direction.

Taking a grenade from her belt, she threw it at the woman who seemed to be leading the ritual. It exploded, bathing the room in light and deafening even Sun who was wearing earplugs. Iron dust filled the air, making the demon scream, shaking the building with its' anger.

Grabbing the nearest cultist who was struggling to keep chanting as she tried to get on her feet, blinking hard and her ears bleeding, Prairie Sun threw her at the demon. There was sickening slurping sound and the cultist was drawn into the gaseous mass. More blood fell from the cloud coating the floor.

Running at the thing, she hit it with the baton. It seemed to pass harmlessly through the demon, but it reacted as if it had been burned, placing Estelle between it and her. A tendril of darkness touched her foot. Sun jumped back, feeling her strength being drawn out by the simple contact. Dodging several more tendrils, she couldn't go too fast and risk her momentum sending her straight into the demon, but she couldn't go slowly either. She ran around the room, hitting the demon, breaking cultists, and trying to avoid getting hit all at the same time.

The last of the chanting died with a kick to the head, the demon roared, making the hair on Sun's body stand on end. Dust and debris fell from the ceiling, and Estelle screeched like a damned soul.

The demon began separating from Estelle, reaching out to absorb the fallen cultists, leaving bloody puddles behind. The darkness coalesced, becoming firmer, more humanlike, its' fingers were as long as its' arms, waving in the air, snapping at Prairie Sun from halfway across the room.

Sun threw another iron grenade at the demons feet. The thing flinched and howled as the iron dust coated it's legs, the smell of burning metal permeated the air, along with the sound of sizzling fat. She ran between the flailing tentacles, tearing one of the chains holding Estelle out of the ceiling.

A long thin finger of utter darkness, jabbed her in the back. Teeth tore away the Kevra armour, and a sharp spiked tongue pierced her skin.

Screaming as loudly as the demon, Sun twisted around bringing the baton down as hard as she could, bludgeoning the demons tentacle. Using her last grenade, she ran at the demon, feeling her skin and some muscle stretch and rip away from her body, and threw the weapon straight into its' mouth. A dozen tentacles wrapped themselves around her, biting her, trying to crush her, when the explosion ripped off its head.

The demon fell, releasing her, but even as it was falling, the dark cloud was reforming, sloughing off the parts contaminated by iron.

Sun didn't hesitate, grabbing Estelle, she tore the last three chains off, and ran for the door, diving between the tentacles that tried to stop her.

“Sun, we're at the apartment, where are you?” Fly By called.

The wall behind her was shredded by the demon, who was running almost as fast as she was. Jumping up the stairs, she said. “Got Estelle. Demon is following me.” There wasn't time to say anything else, she was outside, and looking at Super Bears SUV.

The demon was right on her tail. With a relatively clear street ahead of her, Sun went all out, hitting 200kph. The demon took to the air, creating wings and a long snake body. She heard the SUV start up, and the blast of plasma and missiles. Her back was peppered with bits of shrapnel, but the demon took the brunt of it.

Risking a look, the demon was actually starting to overtake her. People on the street screamed and ran from the flying monstrosity. Fly By was leaning out the SUV window, shooting not only his TK bolts, but a laser gun as well. The demon didn't bother trying to avoid the hits, even though its' flesh was burning from the laser.

Sun felt her muscles tightening. After being shot the day before, fighting that afternoon, barely sleeping from worry, and getting bitten by the demon, she was starting to flag. Looking at her daughter, she bit her tongue to ignore the growing muscle cramps and kept going.

**

I came to in Mom's arms. I knew it was her from how she felt. The wind was bitterly cold and when I turned my head to look where we were going, the wind made it hard to breathe. I heard explosions and screams all around us. “Mom,” I whispered.

“Stay calm,” Mom gasped. “Going to get you somewhere safe.”

Looking behind us, a whimper escaped as I saw the demon. I could feel its anger and rage. It was hurt by the little insects, and was being kept from its prize. My whimpers became sobs as I realized it's prize was me.

The part of my mind that had stayed calm during the waiting for the ritual, was at work again as we kept running for several minutes, avoiding the busier streets with the demon flying overhead swooping down occasionally if it looked like we were about to enter a building or find cover.

“I need a charge,” I said.

“Not now,” Mom said through gritted teeth.

“I have to charge up!”

“I know you're tired, but we're running for our lives here,” Mom told me.

We had to stop talking as Mom jumped over a car that was coming straight at us, the driver staring dumbly at the sky. As we were airborne the demon dived, it's shriek shattering the windows near us. A plasma cannon fired a burst into the demons side, knocking it into the side of a building. I felt the still wet blood on me dry and crack from the heat of the plasma that almost washed over us.

Mom broke a street sign in half as we turned down a side street. With some of the momentum bled off, we headed down an alley, and tried to put some distance between us and it. I knew it was useless. I could tell exactly where the demon was and it could do the same to me.

“Mom! Listen!” I shouted at her. “The demon that attacked me, I hurt it. I don't know how, but I really hurt it. If I have a big enough charge, I could do the same to this one.”

The demon appeared overhead. Mom looked up at it and then back at me. The wounds on her body still hadn't healed over, and she was slowing down. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” I actually wasn't, but there wasn't much choice in the matter.

Mom obviously agreed. “Super Bear, get your ass up here,” she said into the radio. “We need to charge Target up, and keep her charged.”

I couldn't hear what Uncle Herb said, but there was a roar of an engine and the SUV came up beside us, still peppering the sky with lasers, plasma and TK. Mom tossed me through the back passenger side window. Without me burdening her, she scrambled up the side of a building, drew a gun and started shooting while still running.

Dad didn't have time to look at me, the demon was flying straight at us. He flew out the window grabbed the roll bar, and I heard him start shooting from the roof of the SUV. Uncle Herb growled something that sounded bad, hit a few buttons and turned around in his seat. “How much of a charge do you need?” he asked as the vehicle began driving and shooting itself.

“As much as you can,” I told him.

He grabbed some gadget from under the back seat that looked like a waffle iron on steroids. Stripping the cable connected to it, he cursed as sparks burned his hand. With the tools he kept under the drivers seat, and cannibalizing some gadgets and devises, he handed me something that looked like a pistol grip just two minutes after I got into the car. “Pull the trigger and you'll get as much power as we can spare.”

I squeezed it as hard as I could and felt instantly energized. The plasma gun stopped working. “Oh crap!” Uncle Herb said.

The demon saw it's chance. Dad took to the air shooting rapidly for all the good it did. The SUV rocked to the side, scraping against a brick wall and battering it's way through a few signs and a news paper stand. A claw came through the window catching my wrist, my hand felt like it was being absorbed, darkness crawled up my arm.

Taking the rapidly building charge, I let the electricity run straight through me, adding in my own power, amplifying it and releasing it straight into the demons body. The thing jerked and spasmed, actually lifting the SUV a few times and dropping it. I didn't stop, blasting it with everything I had. Whatever was connecting us, it seemed to make it impossible for the demon to let me go.

Darkness started flaking off of it. It's arm became skinnier, less substantial. The shooting from Mom and Dad started hitting the roof of the SUV instead of the demon. I began to feel a little spot of hope.

Then the demon drove it's foot through the hood, cutting off my supply of power and stopping us in our tracks.

The darkness reached my shoulder. My arm suddenly felt like it was on fire, and it was heading for my heart. I screamed. I could see my skin moving like worms were underneath, chewing their way through my flesh, absorbing me into the thing. My mind went blank, I knew what was happening, but there was nothing I could do, my screams turned to shrieks.

Uncle Herb ripped his door off, using it like a club to pummel the demon, ignoring the tentacles and claws that dashed themselves against his PFG. Mom jumped off of a building, landing on top of the demon, plunging her baton into its back like a sword. Dad came down right in front of me, actually straddling mine and the demons arm, took one look at my face which I could feel pulsing and moving as the demon worked its way into me. He took a grenade out of his pocket, pulled the pin and held it in place right around my hand.

The grenade exploded, my body and face was protected by Dad, my hand wasn't. The demon, Dad and I screeched in unison. My arm was completely numb, and I think I blacked out for a few seconds because I came to in Dads arms flying through the sky. Looking at my hand all I could see was black blood gushing out of me.

With the demon following us, more slowly, losing bits of itself with every second, and Mom running along the street still shooting, Dad seemed to know where he was going. Then I saw where we were heading, St. Joseph's Basilica, one of the largest churches in Edmonton. Dad couldn't seem to control his flying very well, and at the very last second, he rolled onto his back, still flying forward, and cradled me as we flew through a stain glass window. He couldn't stop in time and we crashed through the pews, before coming to a stop against the platform at the front of the church.

A priest was there, reading loudly from the bible. A part of me recoiled from the words, they didn't really hurt, but hearing them was like nails on a chalkboard. Pain blossomed in my arm, even worse then when the demon was absorbing me. The demon followed, much smaller, but actually looking more lethal now.

The priest faltered, and Dad tried to get to his feet only to fall, screaming as the stump of his hand touched the ground. The demon came at us, it's gangling shoulders hunched down, the claws scraping and scoring the floor, leaving trails of thick, greenish black smoke.

It reached for me, and I couldn't move, so paralyzed with pain and fear.

The church door was ripped off it's hinges. The demon saw Mom in her blood drenched uniform, bitten, bruised, and exhausted. It rushed at me, but Mom was faster, bull rushing it. The two went past me, towards the alter. Mom sprang onto the alter itself, and jumped still holding the demon that was shredding her back, straight at the large crucifix that watched over the church.

The demon was pressed against the holy symbol, it's scream made the stone building tremble. Mom grabbed the crucifix, and tore it from the wall, keeping it pressed against the demon as they fell to the ground. She managed to roll clear, but the demon was pinned to the floor.

The priest began to pray with a firmer voice, as he did the demon turned to vapour, still connected to the crucifix, finally the vapour itself disappeared.

Mom came over to me, swaying weakly. Blood was dripping from her back, ignoring that she grabbed me, her eyes glassy. Taking my hand, she burst out crying, ripping apart her suit, she elevated my arm, and wrapped the bloody rag around my hand. Looking at it, I suddenly realized I was missing some fingers, red blood was leaking from the wounds now, the black ichor had vanished. The pain suddenly became even more agonizing.

There were sirens in the distance.

The priest came over, still praying. The strange feeling of unpleasantness I was feeling, receded, but didn't go away completely. As I sobbed and whimpered in pain, Mom eased me down, still holding my arm up. I saw her doing the same to Dad who was lying beside me.

Unable to keep my eyes open, I fell unconscious.

**

Late that night, I came to in a hospital bed. I was still exhausted, and wondered why I had woken up. Then I felt something on my chest.

Jerking up, hissing as I put weight on my bandaged hand, I saw a dark red cat looking at me. It licked my nose, and curled up beside my face, purring away.

Staring at the thing, I suddenly realized that it felt right that it should be there. Lying back down, I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.

**

Mom was beside me when I woke up. She was wearing a track suit, and sat very carefully so her back wasn't touching the chair. Her face was lightly bruised, since it was sunny out, I had to have been asleep for at least all night, if Mom was still bruised, her face had to have been almost broken from the fight with the demon.

“Morning Estelle,” Mom said, reaching down she pulled my stuffed dog out of a bag, kissed it and pressed it against my cheek.

“Thanks for saving me,” I whispered, my throat felt raw. Rolling over, I reached out with my left hand to take a drink of water. Stopping, I saw that my hand was swathed in bandages. “How bad?”

“You lost all your fingers on that hand. They're thinking they'll have to amputate part of your hand as well if it doesn't heal properly or you'll suffer chronic pain.” One thing I can say about Mom, she doesn't sugar coat things. But she wrapped the blankets around me extra tight and gave me a hug.

“And Dad?” I asked, my fuzzy memory called up an image of him screaming at a bloody stump where his hand should have been.

The hug got tighter. “He lost all of his right hand. The bones were so splintered they didn't even try to save it.”

I started sniffling. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get caught.”

“Estelle! Don't you dare apologize for this,” she scolded me. “Your father and I knew exactly what we were risking when we came for you, and quite frankly we got off easy. Mo Shu Shi came from Vancouver last night, he says we faced a very tiny fraction of the actual demon. If you hadn't hit it like you had it would have been able to stay materialized on earth for at least a few more hours and it WOULD have killed us and everyone nearby.”

“But if I hadn't been captured, if I hadn't been in that damn ceremony, none of this would have happened.”

“Honey, listen to me,” Mom said, using my dog to make me look her in the eyes. “If you hadn't been there in Vancouver, that demon would have materialized forever at full power. You saved millions of people. You fought the demon that captured you, which is better than a lot of people could have done. And you kept your head, helping fight a demon that wanted to use you as it's bond on earth. I have never been more proud of you than I am right now. We all got hurt, but it's a price your father and I accepted as part of doing business. The ONLY thing you need to worry about is getting healthy again. And on that note, we can charge you up,” Mom said handing me my tazer.

While I was happy to charge up, I didn't believe what she said about the demon. There had to have been something I could have done, but I nodded rather than argue about it. “Where's the cat?”

“What cat?” Mom asked, looking around and clearly surprised at the change of topic.

“There was a cat sleeping with me last night, a dark red one. I felt... I felt like it belonged there.”

“There aren't any cats in the hospital, dear. You must have been dreaming.”

Shaking my head, I could picture the animal perfectly in my mind. “No he's real. He's right over there,” I said pointing at a comfortable guest chair.

“There's nothing th-”

The red cat suddenly appeared as if by magic. It yawned and blinked at us with big brown eyes so dark they were almost black. Seeing our startled expressions, it stuck its' tongue out at us, jumped off the chair and came over to sit by my head. In the daylight, the colour looked uncomfortably similar to dried blood.

Mom pulled out a phone and hit a button. “Mo, come to Estelle's room now. We have something you need to see.”

Petting the strange cat, my fears and sadness seemed to fade away. The gibbering terror, guilt, sadness, and disgust that had been threatening to overwhelm me were still there, but behind a glass wall, making them easier to deal with. I wondered what to call him. There wasn't any doubt that it was mine and he was helping me, that knowledge didn't strike me as strange either. It was like knowing that the sky was blue, a simple fact of life. “Hello Beetle,” I said to the cat not knowing where the name came from but knowing it was right.

The cat bobbed its head, licking my nose like it had last night.

“Beetle?” Mom asked.

“That's his name.”

The Chinese-Canadian wizard from Vancouver came in, as usual his face looked different from the last time I saw him, but his robes were hard to forget. “Estelle, it's good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

“Like I was blown up a few times,” I joked.

“Mo, can you look at this cat?” Mom asked. “It was invisible until a few minutes ago and Estelle says it's hers.”

The wizards eyes misted over for a few moments. “It's her familiar,” he said, frowning. “She's not a wizard is she?”

“She wasn't when we got her MID.”

He looked at me more closely, his eyes once more becoming cloudy. “Sun can you please give us some time alone, I need to try a few things. Fly By is awake now, he's asking for you.”

Mom gave me a proxy kiss with the dog, and gave him to me, before leaving. Hugging my toy dog and my new cat, I wondered what was going on now.

Mo pulled out some candles from his robes, where he held them I didn't know. Lighting them he had me concentrate on the flames, thinking about them in different ways, they flickered, changed colour, flared up and almost died down. I had no idea what any of it meant, but it was clearly important.

Then he pulled out some tea leaves, filling a wooden bowl he pulled out of his robes, he made it hoe with a wave of his hand threw the leaves in and had me drink it. Then he took a wooden disk with Chinese characters on it, and spent half an hour fiddling with it, spinning different parts changing the position of some symbols and removing or adding others. Finally he seemed satisfied and put it away. He didn't look happy though. “Estelle I'm going to speak to your mother, we'll explain everything soon. Stay here.”

“Ok,” I said, wondering where exactly I was suppose to go. I didn't like the way he looked at Beetle, almost as if he were afraid my cat would claw his face off.

I charged myself up again, since it would help me heal, even if I couldn't regrow fingers, and turned on the tv. The news was talking all about the demon attack yesterday, and once more my family was all over the news. Flipping to MuchMusic, I relaxed to some pop music, petting Beetle and enjoying his purring.

I'd dozed off again when Mom came rushing in and I woke up to an incredible feeling of fear.

“MOM! DON'T!” I screamed, before I'd even opened my eyes. My hands reached out unerringly for Beetle who was yowling at Mom who was holding him by the scruff of his neck.

“It's a demon,” Mom said, trying to grab my cats head so she could snap it's neck as I held onto her hand sending my charge into my muscles so that I could actually have a small chance of slowing her down.

The fear turned to pain. “OW! Mom, it hurts! Stop!” I shouted.

Mo came running in and threw himself on Mom. “Evelyn DON'T! You'll hurt Estelle!”

With me practically throwing myself over her arm, and Mo on her back, both of us yelling at her loudly enough to have half the hospital coming in to see what was going on, Mom eased up and merely held Beetle firmly rather than trying to crush him.

“Explain,” she said to Mo Shu Shi.

“A familiar is attracted to the essence of a wizard, or sometimes their soul, or even their personality, it can get a little confusing at times. When the magical creature finds the person that it's attracted to, it forms a link between the well of essence within the person and it's own soul. They are symbiotic, helping each other, gaining power from each other. Usually the familiar is a fae creature, at least the ones that people admit to having, but demons have been known to do it as well. The smarter ones what we'd call imps are tricky and must be watched carefully because they will try to hurt their wizard.”

Mom tightened her grip on Beetle.

Mo put his hand on Moms'. “But this isn't an imp. I'll need to examine it more carefully in a purified place, but I swear to you that killing that animal right now will do great harm to Estelle for no real purpose. If I'm right, this creature is one of the lowest orders of demons, it needs Estelle to survive and grow. It will not harm her knowingly.”

“So what will it do?”

“It will help her, letting her cast spells through it, adding it's power to hers, it can spot enemies often even if they're invisible to normal means. It has some intelligence and can warn her if she's doing something wrong, and use it's own initiative to help her,” Mo explained quickly.

“How will it help her?” Mom asked.

“That's where it gets complicated,” Mo said warily. “With fairy type familiars, the cute ones you hear about when wizards want to make themselves sound harmless and beneficial, will help with work, maybe playing relatively harmless pranks on friends and foes alike, offering a shoulder to cry on. Others are more martial oriented, turning into larger versions of their type, to stop, maim or even kill threats, depending largely on their wizards personality.”

“And with demons?”

“If they're able to, they'll go for the throat immediately, some have been known to kill rivals when it's not a life or death situation and even when the wizard doesn't want them to.” He raised his hands when he saw Mom's expression. “But this one doesn't look like that. You're actively threatening it's life, and the best it can do is claw at you, it is just a fairly strong, and very smart house cat. You said it was invisible when Estelle pointed it out to you. It's a thief and a spy. Estelle is going to have to be careful to keep it firmly under control, or it will likely steal anything it thinks she needs or wants, but it is controllable.”

I touched Mom's arm, crying a little. “Please don't hurt Beetle. I'm not screaming right now because of him.”

“What?” Mom and Mo Shu Shi asked.

“I can feel being scared, sad, hurt and lots of other things, but it's at the back of my head. He's doing it. If he wasn't, it would be all I could think about,” I whispered, shaking at the thought of feeling all of that at full force, I didn't know if I could survive that.

She looked at my new cat, without quite as much disgust. “Can we safely get rid of it, after Estelle recovers?”

“Not really. With the proper rituals, we can make it go away with limited risk, but it could damage her well of essence, scar her soul, and if done poorly hurt her physically. If she can't control it, I can talk to some people about removing it, but I do not believe it's worth the risk. And if Estelle is telling the truth, it may be the only reason she's still sane.”

That didn't make Mom very happy. “It can understand me?”

“Yes, as long as you don't make things too complicated,” he said.

Holding Beetle up to look him in the eyes, Mom glared at it. “Beetle, if you hurt my daughter in any way, I will kill you very, very slowly. Do you understand?”

Beetle meowed once, and gave a very human-like nod, his tail curling up between his legs.

Putting my familiar down, Mom took a seat, clearly tired. “So Mo, why didn't we know Estelle was a wizard?”

“I think, and this is an educated guess at best,” Mo cautioned, “that when she was trapped in the ritual in Vancouver, she did suffer a minor burnout and with that powerful magic running through her, she gained a wizard trait. Not much at best a level 1 or 2, but it was there. She's slowly been gaining essence, and with the proper training could have sparked her essence, which means being able to gather and control essence better than a baseline. The ritual yesterday pushed her over the edge, sparking her, and giving her a familiar, probably a demon who felt the ritual, sensed a new wizard who hadn't been claimed by a familiar and hitched a ride.

“That could also explain why she was able to hurt the demon with her powers. Most demons would shrug off her attack as a mere annoyance, or a painful but not very damaging attack, like the plasma and laser blasts. The ritual in Vancouver probably, somehow attuned her powers to be a touch magical, just enough to hurt creatures on that same... frequency for lack of a better word. If the MCO had had an actual wizard or better sensors for the magical, they would have been able to detect it during the power testing.”

Now that I wasn't afraid of my new best friend dying, I was perking up. “So I can really cast spells and things?” I asked.

“With training yes. But it's not that easy,” Mo said.

I hadn't really thought about doing magic, but I was interested in it. And unlike my main power, magic could be useful for lots of things. I grinned like an idiot.

“And the best place to get training is at Whateley,” Mom said with a grimace. “But we don't want her to go to Whateley until next term so no one knows she used to be a girl. And if we send her away suddenly it will look bad to the press after we made so much noise about how mutants can go to a regular school with proper training.”

“With Fly By injured, I'm willing to stay in town at least until he's healed to help out, I can train Estelle on the weekend and maybe during the week,” Mo offered.

Mom started to lean back in her chair only to wince when her back touched it, sitting ramrod straight she considered me for a few minutes. “Estelle, it's going to be difficult for the next few months, the media, your friends, your teachers, they're going to act differently around you now that you're not only a mutant, but that they've seen you on tv being attacked. I think Whateley would be better for you, but I promised you could stay the term, so it's your decision. Do you stay here and weather the storm, or go to Whateley?”

That was easy. “I want to stay.”

She sighed. “I was afraid you'd say that. Ok, Mo, you have a new student. I'll send you a few short term rentals to look over this week, pick the one you like best and we'll cover everything.”

They left me alone to get some rest, promising to let me see Dad once he was up to having visitors. With Beetle purring on my chest, happy now that the scary woman was gone, I quickly fell back to sleep dreaming of casting spells and doing cool things like flying on a bike. Yes a bike, riding on a broomstick sounded painful and a good way to get a wedgie.

**

Some of the older girls at Everest were on prozac, and I knew quite a few girls who said their mothers practically lived on the stuff, but for feeling good nothing beats morphine.

The next morning when I got up, they had lowered the dosage of painkiller I was getting, and not only did I feel like crap, the good feelings I had at getting what could best be called a new best friend and learning I could do magic crumbled, even with Beetle helping. No crumbled is too small of a word, it was atomized leaving nothing but a wasteland of depression and guilt behind.

I managed to make it to the bathroom on my own, and looked at myself in the mirror. And then I burst into tears.

My face wasn't too bad, I stretch marks and saggy skin on the left side of my chin, cheek and neck from where the demon had pushed itself up towards my brain. My arms were mostly healed thanks to my charged up healing factor, but something about the cuts seemed to make them slower to heal and I had big ugly scabs on my once smooth skin. But that wasn't the worst. They could be covered up by makeup and long sleeve shirts. And since I was an exemplar as my changes progressed they'd go away. The worst was my hand.

I couldn't see anything under the swath of bandages, but the way it cut off halfway made me look lopsided. I could still feel my fingers, they were itchy, and no matter how much I tried to ignore them or scratch the stump it wouldn't go away.

One thing I liked so much about being a girl, even if it sounded vapid and bubble headed, was being pretty, and my last few months of girldom was going to have me being the scarred freak with the mutilated hand.

And Dad had it even worse. I hadn't seen him yet, but he'd lost all of his dominate hand. How was he going to do anything? Would he still be able to type, fight crime, cook with me in the kitchen? Hell could I cook anymore without my fingers?

And it was all because of me. If I'd fought harder, done more, fuck if I'd died before they came to rescue me, Dad would be in one piece. But I'd ruined everything. It was my fault they'd been exposed, ripping their lives to pieces, I'd made it so Dad was mutilated, Mom was injured, and soon I'd turn into a boy and everyone would know, so they'd know I was a real freak and Mom and Dad would be humiliated by that to. Crawling back into bed, I pulled the blanket over my head and found I didn't even have the strength to cry. I was almost on the verge of looking for razor blades or stealing a bottle of pills from the pharmacy.

Beetle jumped on the bed, nosing his way under the blanket and curled up against my chest purring hard enough to shake the bed. Whatever type of bond we had, the little demon was sending as much love as it could straight into my heart. Hugging the cat, I lost some of the suicidal thoughts, but there was still no way I could face Dad.

A nurse came in to check my vitals, and Beetle vanished, I could feel him, but he was invisible and totally silent. The nurse checked my vitals, asked how I was feeling, did a few things like changing my IV, and left promising that breakfast would arrive soon.

I just shrugged and gave a grunt when she told me that, which was pretty much how I'd answered everything else. As the nurse went to leave, I felt and heard Beetle stealthily get out of bed and follow her.

Without my kitty letting me know I was loved, the depression quickly built up again.

Before it got back to the dangerous level earlier, Uncle Herb came through the door munching on a box of donuts, Beetle followed him in, tail held high. My uncle did not look to be in good shape, his pink fur was a mess of burnt patches, cuts and swollen bruises covered his body, and he moved with a limp.

“Hey Kitten. Your new pet found me and seemed pretty insistent that I ignore visiting hours and come see you. How are you doing?” he asked, sitting down carefully on the chair and reaching out to stroke my hair.

Getting up I sat on his lap, burying my face in his soft fur. “I got Dad hurt. If I... if I hadn't done anything this never would have happened. Everything is all my fault,” I cried.

“Hey now, none of that, Kitten. You didn't do any of this. You didn't ask for it, and you sure as hell didn't do anything to deserve it. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. None of this is your fault,” he insisted, wrapping his arms around me so only my head and legs could be seen.

“Dad lost his hand because of me! How can he forgive me!”

“I was there when he did it. When he saw you being taken over by that demon, he didn't hesitate. He could have dropped the iron grenade and let his suit take the brunt of it, but there was too great a chance it would roll off. He held it there, knowing exactly what was going to happen and he accepted it, because he loves you more than anything. Both your parents do. Your mom was half crazy when you were in danger, she broke a few dozen laws trying to find you and she doesn't have a single regret.” He nuzzled my hair. “We all care about you, and we'll kill anyone, and accept any consequences to keep you safe. Your Dad wants to see you in a little bit, to make sure you're ok, and to let you know he's ok to.”

“I'm not ok,” I whispered, not really meaning for him to hear me.

“I know. I'm sorry we couldn't do a better job of keeping you safe,” he said softly. “But like everything else, we're here for you through thick and thin. Don't ever forget that.”

He held me for a long time, not talking, just letting me know that I wasn't the horrible, disgusting person I thought I was.

**

“Hey Dad,” I said, when a nurse wheeled me into his room.

His bed was set so he was almost sitting. His right arm was under the blanket, so I didn't have to see the stump. Dad's face was pale, he must have lost a lot of blood before they got him to the hospital. “Hey yourself, Princess. Is your hospital food better than mine?”

I couldn't look him in the eye. “Probably not. They overcooked everything by at least five minutes.”

“Maybe we should get you into the kitchen to show them how it's done.”

“Like that's going to happen,” I said, wiping my nose with my good hand.

“Estelle, you can still cook, you're still beautiful, and you're still a wonderful person,” he told me.

I held up my mutilated hand, forgetting the speech I'd made up apologizing for everything. “This is going to make me so popular, and I'm sure I can do just about anything without my fingers.”

“Since when have you let a problem get the best of you? You can sulk about it, but I expected you to keep going and deal with it, not just roll over and die,” he said.

That hurt. “What am I suppose to do? I'm scarred! I'm mutilated! Everyone knows I'm a mutant! I got you and Mom hurt! And I... I killed people.”

Dad flew out of bed, wrapping me up in his blanket. “I know it's bad now, princess,” he said, holding me tightly. “But it's going to get better. You just need some time to rest. All of this has been so sudden, we all just need some time to think and find our balance again.”

“Why did they do it?” I sobbed. “Why did they make me kill them?”

He didn't answer me, I don't think he could. Like Uncle Herb, he just held me and let me cry, making sure I knew he was there for me. Mom came in a moment later, she must have been listening at the door, and she hugged me to. For a few minutes I could almost pretend we were a normal family.

**

That afternoon I met with a psychiatrist. For the first time I could let everything out, not holding anything back. It was strange telling things that were always kept a secret except with close friends. At first I hesitated, petting Beetle, as I tried to control my emotions, but after a few simple questions I couldn't shut up.

By the end of the session, I was so drained emotionally and physically, I just crawled into bed and collapsed.

With Beetle at my side, I didn't have any nightmares.

I spent a week in the hospital and lying in bed at home before they let me go to school. My time was spent doing homework, reading the lectures from class, going over class notes sent to me by friends, and studying magic with Mo Shu Shi. I had to go back on Wednesday for the doctors to check my hand, remove some more bone splinters, and see if they had to take off any more of my hand, but it was healing so nicely thanks to my continual charge that they decided to leave it alone. I was on a steady dose of painkillers, and I could feel my fingers under the bandages, sometimes they felt so itchy I was ready to take a knife and cut them off if they were real.

Not having to go under the knife again was a relief. The get well bouquets, class notes and get well cards, along with more chocolate than I could eat in a month, from my classmates and friends were really nice to. A few girls I thought were my friends didn't send anything, not even a text message. When I got home from the hospital I had a few hundred texts and missed calls. A lot were from people who knew my family and wanted to gain some influence, but at least half were genuine. It took about two days to go through and answer them. Do you know how hard it is to use a phone with only one hand. I can do it, but that was usually just for quick things, not scrolling through dozens of messages and trying to answer them.

My parents were talking about rehabilitation therapy to limber up my palm, and learn how to do all kinds of things with only my right hand and a tiny stub of a thumb on my left hand. But that had to wait until my hand was healed enough to use without ripping off stitches, aggravating the wound and other stuff.

The magic classes with Mo were interesting, and I saw his real face for the first time. His face wasn't what I expected, he had a round, chubby baby face, with a very sparse mustache. And when he wasn't in his hero persona, his jokes were... bad. I thought some of the stuff my girlfriends and I talked about when we were alone was naughty, but they didn't come close to the tamest jokes coming from Mo's mouth. I'm not sure if he was trying to get me used to the types of jokes boys would make or not, all I do know is that he had me blushing and speechless most of the time when he didn't have me struggling to learn how to contain my essence.

I was disappointed that I wasn't learning any real spells right away. He only taught me a simple light spell that's suppose to test your level of magic, I could light up my bedroom nicely for a little over an hour, which made me a Wizard 1. He had me meditate, imagining essence was fireflies and I had to keep them close to me, and he explained that later I'd be able to store essence and spells in objects ready to be used like a one shot holdout. To get ready for that he started teaching me Chinese calligraphy, which was how he placed his spells onto paper, bamboo darts, and even oriental fans he used when fighting.

Trying to draw on the rice paper, without being able to use my left hand to hold it in place because of the jagged bolts of pain that shot through my hand and up my arm when any pressure was put on it sucked. I didn't need to put my hand on the paper, but it was a habit and keeping the remains of my hand on my lap didn't feel natural.

At the end of the week, we'd made a magic schedule where I'd train for three hours every Saturday and Sunday morning, and the rest of the week I'd practice meditation and essence storing exercises for one hour a night, more if I had time.

My regular homework was actually more difficult than studying magic. Have you ever tried to type using only one hand? I went from typing a thousand word essays at seventy words a minutes, to thirty words a minute because I was hunting and pecking like I was six years old again.

Sometimes I'd be about to go to bed, look at the pile of homework I still had to do, which I could normally finish in a single evening, and I'd burst out crying. Everything just felt so overwhelming,

Mom or Uncle Herb would come in then, since Dad was on mandatory bed rest, and try to comfort me. And Beetle wouldn't leave my side, even when Mom was in the room. My Mom and my familiar had an unspoken agreement, when I wasn't having an emotional breakdown when Mom appeared, Beetle vanished. Say what you will about the little demon, it had a very good sense of self preservation. Mom never threatened Beetle directly, in fact she made sure we had catfood and kitty litter for him, but it was pretty clear if Beetle suddenly disappeared one day she wouldn't spend much time looking for him.

Every morning after breakfast I had a two hour long therapy session, instead of going into the city, Mom and Dad paid extra for the psychiatrist to come to our home. With everything that had happened, my parents didn't want me exposed more than I absolutely had to be until we were all healed up and the media wasn't snapping at our heels. Like the magic lessons, once I was back in school we'd go to a weekly session every Saturday morning, and I'd see the school psychologist three times a week.

Getting everything organized for school took quite a bit of work on Mom's part. Since she was the only one of us who was on her feet, even if her own wounds were healing more slowly than normal, she was doing everything that had to be done in person or over the phone, while Uncle Herb and Mo Shu Shi helped with forms, emails and other things.

At first the school was leery about having a mutant student. Mom called up various human rights codes, the school rules and charter which said nothing about mutants, and raised the fact that I was being called a hero in Vancouver, and it would look very bad if they threw out a heroic young girl, who had just been through serious trauma and only wanted to go back to school. That decided them, and I could reenter school as soon as I was healthy enough, but I was not allowed to participate in any dance events, or other competitions of any kind.

Beetle was another problem. Pets weren't allowed, but since he was a familiar there was a potential loophole. My parents lawyers actually had to go and speak to the headmaster in person and I was allowed to bring Beetle with some pretty strict rules, namely he stayed in my room except during evening free time, and if anyone complained of being allergic I had to remove him from the area. It was better than I thought I'd get so I wasn't about to complain.

The final thing we had to get used to were the security guards.

My parents had hired a very good security team within hours of our exposure. Their experts had gone through the house, improving and expanding our already good security system, set up a security office in a spare office, and had converted two of our guest rooms into impromptu rooms for six of their men so we had guards at all times. By the end of the month we were going to start building an actual guard house so that the security team would have more room, and proper facilities. My Mom complained about the money being spent, but Dad was spending his bed rest talking to his agent about a book deal, speaking gigs and trying to start a bidding war on interviews and possibly a documentary. You can call my parents a lot of things but they were very good about not letting a crisis go to waste.

So with all of this happening, my life utterly flipped around, and still popping a few painkillers every day, I went back to school on Monday.

**
Joan Everest School for Girls
Moose Lake, Alberta,
March 12th, 2007

I'd been out of school for only a little over a week, and when I went back, everything had changed. The first difference was driving through a swarm of reporters around our house, in a heavily tinted SUV with my Mom beside me, and a driver, while three security guards following in another identical vehicle behind us. When we reached my school, and Mom had to go and sign a bunch of papers, confirming who the security guards were, and that if my injury was aggravated in certain ways she would not hold the school accountable. While Mom did that, I walked to my dormitory followed by two of the guards, while the others went to stow their equipment in a special guest dorm for this type of thing.

Ms. Kent, the dorm head, fussed over me and clucked over my hand which was in a sling, saying if I needed any help to ask her, as I signed in. I gave her a big relieved smile, at least she wasn't treating me differently.

Walking to my single, I passed quite a few of my classmates who were going through their morning rituals. A few saw me coming and ran for their rooms, like I was some knife wielding maniac. Others just edged around me, giving me a quick hello, staring at my hand, my security guards who were allowed into the dorm to look at my room first hand and help me carry my things, or Beetle who was in a carrier case that I was holding.

I heard some girls whispering about me, but they shut up as I got close enough to make it out. Hunching my shoulders and ducking my head I kept going.

Then my former roommate, Faith came running up, threw her arms around me and gave me a massive hug. I almost screamed as my hand was crushed against my body.

“Ow! Please let go!” I gasped.

“Oh, did I hurt you, El?” my friend said, looking like she was about to cry.

“A little,” I squeaked, seeing spots in front of my eyes from the pain. “My hand is really tender.”

“Oh god, I'm sssooo sorry. Here let me take your things,” she insisted, taking Beetle from me.

Clutching my wrist as if that would make my hand stop hurting, we made it to my room, where I dumped my bag on the bed and took out two pain pills, swallowing them as quickly as possible, not even bothering to get a drink. Sighing in relief, I went to my drawer and pulled out a uniform.

Faith sat on my bed, and waited until the security guards left before talking. “So... is it true?”

“What part?”

“That you're a mutant, and you're parents really are Fly By and Prairie Sun, and you were attacked by a demon, and you saved the world, and that you're turning into something weird like Super Bear.”

If that was what my best friend at school was asking, I wondered what some of the girls who didn't like me had heard. “I'm a mutant. I was the girl who you guys saw on the net after the fighting in Vancouver. My parents are superheroes. I was attacked by two demons and that's how I hurt my hand. But I'm going to still look human, and Super Bear is my uncle.”

“Really?! Um, how does that work?” she asked, her look of confusion probably coming from wondering what it would be like giving birth to a bear with horns.

“He's a good family friend, and we unofficially adopted him. And he looked normal until he was fifteen. He's a really nice guy.” As I struggled out of my pants and t-shirt, the pain came roaring back. Unthinkingly I grabbed my taser and zapped my arm, letting the electricity rush through me and dulling the pain a little. Then I realized Faith was there watching, her eyes bugged out.

“You-you tazed yourself!”

“Yeah. I absorb energy and I can use it for healing and stuff. It doesn't hurt,” I said, suddenly very self conscious. I began throwing on my clothes, which was really awkward when I got to the buttons on my blouse.

Faith came over and began doing them up for me. “What's it like? Being a mutant?”

“My parents love it. I'm not too happy with it. So far the best thing I've gotten out of it is a cat.”

“Yeah, I was going to ask about that,” she said, eyeing Beetle a little enviously.

“He's my familiar. I just got him after the demon attacked and it turned out I'm a wizard. He can turn invisible and he's really smart.”

“You're a wizard Harry!” she teased.

“Yeah. If I try really hard I can make a reading light, but I'm hoping I'll learn more soon.” Filling up my water bottle with protein powder, I put it in my bag and headed for the door. “Let's go get breakfast,” I said as butterflies decided to hold a dance party in my stomach.

We walked to the cafeteria, Faith peppering me with questions, and quite a few girls offering sympathy, but acting pretty nervous around me. Before my parents were outed I was used to being known, but lost in the background of richer and more important girls, now all eyes were on me and no one seemed to know quite what to do with me. Usually in the morning there'd be some jockeying to be the first in, no actual pushing, but nudges, getting uncomfortably close, things like that. Now it was as if there was a bubble around Faith and I.

Sitting down at the usual table, only Faith sat with me. I sat there and ate my granola, eggs and toast, wondering what I'd do for lunch and supper if there was something I had to cut.

Then unexpectedly Tammy, the hero hater who I sometimes argued with sat down beside Faith. “Hi Tammy,” I said.

“So you're a mutant,” she stated.

“Yeah.”

“When were you going to tell us?”

“I was hoping never. I liked people thinking I was normal.”

“You should have more faith in us. How's your hand?” she asked.

I had to close my mouth, it was opened in shock. This girl always complained about heroes and mutants, we had bets going on that her parents were H1 sponsors. “It hurts a lot. I won't be able to use it for a couple of weeks, and even then, I only have like half my thumb left.”

“If you need help you can ask me,” she said,

Ok, who had replaced this girl and where was the real Tammy? Actually change that, they could keep the original, this one was better. “Thanks.”

With a bit of a happier feeling, I finished breakfast and headed off to class.

**

It was a relief to get back home for the weekend, the entire week had been rough. I didn't have to worry about any obvious name calling or blatant bullying, but I was being treated by most of my classmates like I was a leper. Even some of my teachers had avoided me and seemed to be trying to make my life miserable.

**

“But Ms. Ransom, I just want to practice some basic steps. I have a note from my doctor saying that I can. I'm not going to use my arm or anything,” I told my dance teacher.

The gray haired woman shook her head, not even letting me through the door into the dance studio or glancing at the note. “I'm sorry Ms. Young, but you cannot come in here in this condition.”

“Please read the note, I need to do light exercise everyday, just fifteen minutes worth. You can watch to make sure I don't over stress myself. I can't do Krav Maga, so I can dance or run, and with the rain my bandages will get soaked.”

“I have other students who need my attention, I can't spend my time with someone who won't benefit from my class,” she said.

My jaw dropped. “What do you mean? I love dancing, why can't I benefit from it?”

“You're a mutant. You can't enter any competitions or dance professionally. I've already had to deal with a dozen calls demanding to know if I have allowed mutants to unfairly compete with baselines.”

“I manifested in November, and I used my claim about illness to drop out of the competitions. Now all I want to do is use my free time to relax and follow my doctors orders. I'm not going to do anything else.”

She crossed her arms, not moving an inch. “If you come in here, we could be accused of having a mutant helping us win competitions, I am not risking the other girls getting disqualified after all the hard work they put in.”

I could feel the sparks start to pop just under my skin. Rather than risk coming off as a dangerous mutant, I turned and walked away, refusing to cry.

**

The safety goggles were almost impossible to put on over my head with only one hand, and Tracy, my assigned partner was not about to help me. Turning on the Bunson burner, I reached for the beaker full of chemicals. It was still empty.

“Tracy, why haven't you put in the stuff?” I asked.

She let out a squeak and backed away, almost tripping over her stool. Rubbing my forehead, I counted to ten. “Tracy, we're partners, we each need do our part. And I can't do everything one handed,” I said slowly, hoping to get some pity points.

“I-I-I,” she stuttered turning white.

“Tracy, have I done anything to you since you've known me?” I asked, speaking as if to a small child.

She shook her head.

“Right. I'm not going to hurt you or anything. I need your help, and we need to do this together if we're going to get marked for the work. Do you want to lose your A?”

Another head shake.

“Ok. Good. Can you put the chemicals into the beaker?”

Very slowly she did her job. Every step was like that, where I had to quietly walk her through everything.

When I finally got back to my room that night, after dealing with silence, fear, looks of contempt, and only a few friendly faces, all I could do was fall onto my bed and cry as Beetle licked my face.

**

I struggled to hold my supper tray, which was loaded down with ham, steamed vegetables, and mashed potatoes. Having to hold it against my body, it kept tapping my hand, and threatening to cover my t-shirt in gravy.

Faith came over with a few of our friends, and discretely took the tray.

“Thank you,” I said.

At our table, Faith quickly and efficiently cut up my ham for me. For a little while it actually felt like old times, we were talking happily about everything I'd missed, the junior high drama, what funny stuff had happened, and things like that. Even Tammy was nice, going to get me my usual Caesar salad so I wouldn't have to.

But then I noticed something.

“Why isn't anyone sitting close to us?” I asked, when I saw that every table next to ours was empty.

My friends looked at each other, their food, the ceiling, everything except me.

“Oh, ok,” I said.

Faith broke up the awkward silence. “We still don't know what your powers are, you only told me your a wizard and can taze yourself.”

Looking around, I realized that with quite a few of the girls I was either a social pariah, or a dangerous person, so there really wasn't much reason to keep things secret. Holding up my hand, I made some sparks shoot out of my palm. “I'm an energizer. I make an electrical charge and I can absorb a lot of energy. Once I've got it I can make myself stronger, faster and things, or shoot energy out of my hands.”

“Does it hurt?” one of the girls asked.

“No. If I shoot it from my mouth, it makes me faint because it takes everything I have, but it doesn't hurt. And getting charged up actually feels nice, if I get too much energy it's like I've just eaten a huge bowl of ice cream.”

“Did you really shoot yourself with a tazer?” Tammy asked.

“Yeah. I can't build up much of a charge quickly by myself, but when I put the charge into my muscles, it helps me heal faster and not hurt so much. So Super Bear made me a special tazer that really helps out. The bracelets and belt I was wearing for the last few months were another gadget he made for me that would give me an emergency charge,” I said.

“And those tacky rings and chains?”

My face turned red. “I was sparking a bit, the rings and chains took the extra power and used it to recharge the bracelets.”

Faith's eyes went wide. “That's why you ran to the bathroom sometimes or hid your hands in your desk!”

I nodded, trying not to look too embarrassed.

“What are Fly By and Prairie Sun like?”

“My parents are...” what was I suppose to say? I had always kept my personal life personal, just not talking about it, and letting my parents reputation as pillars of the community speak for itself. “They're ok. A little intense sometimes, but they act like normal parents at home. I just can't- couldn't, tell people what their real job was.”

“But what about when they fight supervillains?” another friend asked.

“It's scary. But I grew up with it, so it's normal. It's just like having parents who are in the army or police or something.”

As we kept talking, it was really interesting finally talking about my family. I didn't give away any big secrets, just talked about Mom and Dad's regular work and lives. I'd NEVER done anything like it before. I kept wanting to look over my shoulder, having a paranoid idea that Mom or Dad was coming over to stop me.

In grade two we had to make a class presentation about what our parents did. Mom and Dad had spent weeks dealing with a very nasty villain who liked upping the body count as he worked, and I was really proud of what they were doing. So I made a big presentation all on my own about Prairie Sun and Fly By. It had a pretty collage, pictures of them fighting, and I had printed everything as neatly as I could in colourful markers. The morning of the presentation, I'd shown Mom. She had spit out her coffee, immediately called the school saying I was sick, and spent the rest of the day explaining why I couldn't show my work to anyone ever. She kept the project, but only close friends saw it. I'd gone in the next day with a boring, simple piece of bristol board, a few pictures of my parents shaking hands with Fly By and Prairie Sun, and a very simple outline of what they did as assistants.

Having the freedom to be openly proud of my parents was not something I was used to.

It almost made up for the way half the dorm avoided me in the bathroom as we got ready for bed.

**

Three weeks after I got to school I was taken out again for a few days to go to Vancouver with Mom and Dad. It was a bit of a rush, so we took the plane, and as a family we walked through the MCO checkpoint. In the terminal a few people recognized us, and took pictures as we went to the VIP lounge, our body guard, who was weaker than anyone of us, but was there to act as a paranoid set of eyes, did his best to block me from the amateur photographers.

Fortunately that was the worst thing that happened, because I was pretty self conscious of how Dad and I looked. Dad was still bandaged up, but because his faster than normal healing rate he was using a thin bandage, while the last of the scabs healed. He just kept his wrist in his coat pocket, so it didn't look strange. I was wearing a type of compression glove to pad the stumps where my fingers used to be, and to ensure the blood flowed properly in the rest of my hand. It also had fake fingers that were the right general shape and size, so while my fingers didn't move, it looked like I had them. As we waited, I kept flexing and stretching my palm, like my rehabilitation therapist had taught me. Now that my hand didn't hurt so much, I was figuring out how to do a lot of things without my fingers, even cutting my own food. Two very useful tricks my therapist had taught me were how to tie my shoes one handed, it had only taken me two days of frustration to do it. The other one was how to button my shirts.

At the Vancouver airport we were met by Uncle Herb and Cloud Master. There was the usual condolences, and then we were off to their headquarters to see Dr. Sharpe.

Everyone except Eddie greeted us as we walked in, even some of the part time heroes were there. Dr. Sharpe however cut the party short for me, which since it was a bunch of adults talking about how much everything sucked, made my day. He seemed a little put off by having Beetle come in with me, but other than a muttered complaint about familiars, didn't object.

“Estelle, I have great news for you,” Dr. Sharpe said.

“You've found out how to let me stay a girl and regrow my hand,” I said.

“Uh, no,” he replied, his smile disappearing.

Smiling I patted his arm. “I was joking. What is it?”

“Oh, yes, I see. Well, because you're growing I can't fit you with cybernetic fingers like I'll be using on your father, but there is an alternative until you reach your adult, male size.” He pulled out a glove that looked similar to what I was already wearing.

I didn't know what to say. I knew that people had cybernetics, but they were awkward, clunky things, unless you wanted to spend a very large fortune even for my parents, or devises that risked exploding and breaking. And with the rapid changes in bone size, muscle mass, and other things it was almost unheard of for children or teenagers to use them.

“Now then, this is a gadget, if you lived in Vancouver I'd make you a devise that was ten times better than your original hand, but the regular tune ups make it unwieldy, so don't worry about it exploding or gaining sentience and trying to kill you, I learned my lesson after the first trial run,” he told me. “I'm going to put a cap over your remaining thumb and your knuckles. They'll keep your skin open but protected by a self sealing membrane. This glove I made using your last measurements when you were here, is stretchable so we'll only need to change it maybe twice a year, until you stop growing. The cybernetic fingers will pierce your muscles, attaching themselves to your nervous system, it takes about a half hour to do so, and you'll want to use a general anesthetic while it works. The glove ensures you have a firm grip, so don't worry about the fingers tearing your bone or flesh if you lift something too heavy, and they work exactly like your original fingers, possibly a little better. The surface of the glove passes sensation to your nervous system, and receives signals from the same. Best of all it's washable with ordinary soap and water, lets your skin breathe, and you can wear it continuously for up to three days before you need to take it off to clean it and the cap with a basic saline solution.”

That sounded nice. One possible problem. “What about when I use powers?”

“That's why it looks like a glove instead of being much thinner and skin coloured, all of that is insulation to keep it from being destroyed. Please don't send any energy directly through your hand. But the insulation will let you arc your energy around yourself without too much worry,” he said.

So I could still use my powers, just had to be careful, and I'd look a little odd wearing black gloves all the time, but really who cared about that. I had worn chained finger rings for a few months which looked even worse, I'd survive. “Thank you Dr. Sharpe. When do we put the cap on?”

“Right now if you're up for it.”

“Give me two minutes to change,” I said, heading for the change room.

**

I woke up to Mom, Dad, and Dr. Sharpe looking down at me.

“Estelle, please raise your left hand,” Dr. Sharpe said.

I did, and saw the black, skin tight glove covering it. It wasn't really uncomfortable, but I couldn't feel much of anything from it.

The doctor pulled up a remote and started pressing buttons. My hand went ice cold, then burning hot. Then it found a nice medium. “Please make a fist.”

I did, actually feeling my fingers move and press against each other. It seemed odd after four weeks of only an occasional phantom pain to be feeling my fingers again. Tears of joy started to fall, as I did all sorts of things gradually getting more and more feeling, until I could feel the air from someone blowing on my fingers.

When we were done, I jumped out of the bed and hugged Dr. Sharpe, giving him a kiss on the cheek, which left him red faced, and stuttering.

“Mom, Dad it's just like my real hand!” I said, blowing them kisses.

Mom gently took my gloved hand and ran her hand over the black surface. I stopped bouncing, and my jaw dropped.

“What's wrong Estelle?” Mom asked, dropping my hand afraid she'd hurt me.

I tried to speak, but only a sob came out. As everyone stared at me, I reached out and touched Mom's cheek, it wasn't cold and hard, it felt real. I really started to cry, running my new hand through her hair, feeling the warmth of her her skin, marveling at how soft it was. After a whole life of not knowing Mom's real touch, I could really, truly feel her. Gingerly, my other hand touched her arm, all it felt was hard stone. It would have been too much to hope for that the curse was totally over, but it was enough.

Finally I was able to speak through my tears. “I can feel you.”

Mom broke down in tears, clutching my new hand in hers, kissing it as quickly as she could, making up for lost time.