When we get back to the school dorms, the lobby is as spotless as it’s ever been. Windows glitter, left wide open so a balmy breeze can sweep through the cavernous space. Couches are straight. Beer cans have all but vanished. Not a single scent from last night lingers in the air.. Just detergent, soap, and something vaguely lemon-smelling. Clare barely breaks her stride as she walks, quietly humming to herself as we cross the lobby. Her heels snap against the floor. My bare feet slap it quietly. Then we’re waiting for the elevator, and I’m so thirsty I finish the bottle of water with one long swallow, then wipe my mouth on the back of my hand. She takes it from me and flicks it into a trash can, smiles, and presses the up button twice more. She’s…weird. Older than me, that’s for sure. But she moves like one of those old androids, you know the ones in war museums that wear fake human skin and get hooked up to old generators so they can talk to kids about pre-nuke New York? Except I can hear her heart, smell sweat on the back of her neck, and a light dash of perfume along her collarbones. The song she’s humming sounds familiar. Really…

  Is that mom’s old theme song? I think to myself. I haven’t heard that since I was, like, six.

  “You used to watch my mom’s old cartoons?” I ask her.

  She smiles. “Who didn’t? Second most popular kids show in decades. Shame they cancelled it.”

  “Huh,” I mutter. “You know, that theme song of hers was the only thing that would ever get me to relax. I was a really fussy kid.” I guess ‘cause I hated how Earth felt on my skin. “I haven’t heard anyone sing it in years.”

  Clare shrugs one shoulder. “It’s a catchy song, you know. Guardian, Guardian, up in the sky, Guardian, Guardian, up in the stars, she swoops down low and she flies real high, and she’ll save the day with the mightiest smile.” She smiles a little more, then says, “Sorry. I sound like a dork. I just never thought I’d be working with her kid one day. I was finishing up with high school when you came onto the scene. Such a really cute first outfit.”

  I fold my arms and shrug. “Kinda hated it. Made me look stupid.”

  “True,” she says. I raise an eyebrow. She shrugs again. “I mean, shorts? Knee pads? That is so pre-war.”

  “I thought you said you found it cute a second ago.”

  The elevator dings.

  Clare says, “Let’s get you to your new room, shall we?”

  “—and then my dad had to chase after the hens because they went running all over the farm, and now there’s a huge dust storm my whole family is kicking up because, you know, we’re Speedsters, and then the local sheriff, this guy called Monroe, had to come over and—” Summer, a bored-looking Red, Jordan on her phone, and Jason half-listening, half-looking at her funny, step out of the elevator, then stop in front of me. Clare steps past them and holds the door open for me with her arm. The group looks me up and down like I’m some alien, which… Fair game. Whatever. Summer puts her hands on her hips. “Well, well, look what the cat dragged in.” She gently punches my shoulder. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. We stayed up all night looking for you! Where’d you go?”

  “I slept just fine,” Red says, shrugging one shoulder. Early in the morning, and she already reeks of smoke and sweat. She must’ve just come out of the gym, judging by the sweaty towel around her neck. “Had fun, Sentry?”

  Jordan puts her phone away, raises an eyebrow, then says, “You look like shit, no offence.”

  “Yeah,” Jason mutters. “Kinda like you got run over by Death-Racer.”

  “Death-Racer?” we all say in unison.

  He shrugs. “You know, Death-Racer. The guy who’s got a flaming skull and rides a motorbike.”

  “Dunno what kind of villains you’re fighting, but they sound shitty,” Red snorts.

  Jason sighs and scratches the back of his head. “Can’t choose your gallery, I guess.”

  “Isn’t he that guy who once said a bunch of weird shit about illegal superhumans?” I ask him.

  Jason sucks air through his teeth. “Yeah, that one. Hey, at least he’s in jail now, right?”

  Clare clears her throat, then mouths, “Upstairs. Breakfast. Now.”

  “We were gonna go and grab some grub,” Summer says, swinging her arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go on a little adventure, this time without getting you in trouble. Besides, you look like you need to eat something.”

  “Actually,” Clare says loudly. They look over their shoulders at her. “She’s busy today. I can fit you all in for…” She checks her tablet, then says, “Friday next week. Maybe for an hour tomorrow night, depending on if I get her an interview for Behind the Cape. If you’re looking for something to eat, the pavilion isn’t gonna be open for another ten minutes. I suggest you wait for a little while longer, or get some coffee. PU is a little slow on Sundays.”

  “Who the fuck is she?” Red asks me. “Since when did you have a personal assistant?”

  I smile—smugly, but only a little—then fold my arms. “Jelous, sparkles?”

  “No, not at all,” she says breezily. “What the nepo-hero wants is what the nepo-hero gets, right?”

  I clench my jaw and want to hit her, but my knuckles are still sore, so… I sigh and say, “Yeah, whatever. Maybe if you work really hard, and not to get more people killed”—she glares—“you’ll be important someday.”

  She looks like she wants to torch me alive.

  Clare tilts her head at Jordan. “I’m surprised Hailey hasn’t gotten to you yet. Where did you sleep?”

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  “Oh, that little blonde girl with the nose ring?” Jordan asks. “I told her to leave me alone. She was being weird all night and kept asking me if I wanted my wings fluffed, which…gross, by the way. You don’t go around asking girls if you can touch their wings in public. Then she had a meltdown because she thought I was angry, so I told her to stop crying into my blouse and begging me for another chance. She ran off crying last night, I think.”

  “So that’s who you made cry in the hallway,” Jason mutters. “I thought she was hitting on you.”

  “Hm,” Clare says. “Well…I can get you another one if you like. Hailey has always been a little…” She drops her voice into a whisper and says, “She’s on the chopping block. She’s probably gonna get suspended from school soon, but that’s just what I heard.” Then she smiles again, all bright and wide. “Anyway, where’d you sleep?”

  “Top floor,” Red says, jerking her thumb at Jordan. Then she looks at me. “How was the pavement?”

  “Cozy,” I say. “How was staying up all night worrying about your best friend?”

  She snorts. “Like I give a shit about what you get up to at night.”

  “Aw,” I say, then hit her shoulder. She cringes and glares at me. “That’s so sweet, Red.”

  “I’m fine,” Jordan says. “I don’t do personal assistants. My mom loves them, but I’m not my mom. I can get shit done on my own, thanks for asking.” She looks at me. “C’mon, let’s go find something to eat. You def need it.”

  “Look at me,” I say. Jordan does, making her nose scrunch up. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

  “Later…” Clare mutters, typing something into her tablet. “You’re free for ten minutes at five o’clock.”

  “Does she wipe your ass, too?” Red asks me. “Jesus, just tell her to leave already.”

  “What do you care if she’s here to help me out?”

  “Because you don’t need someone constantly buzzing around you,” Red says. “You’re not in PU to get everything spoonfed to you, because this isn’t high school anymore.” She stabs her finger into my chest. I narrow my eyes at her. “Just grow a pair for once and get things done on your own, supes. Unless you want to graduate and the only thing anyone knows about you is what your mom’s name did for you instead of anything you achieved.”

  “Get your finger off my chest,” I tell her quietly.

  “Looks like I hit a nerve,” she says, staring at me. “Gonna call mommy and tell her I’m being mean?”

  “I should’ve hit you harder when we were kids.”

  “That’s not very golden-girl of you, is it?” she asks.

  I swipe her hand away. She jabs her finger harder into my chest, making me step back.

  “Red,” I say hotly. “I’m not in the mood for this right now.”

  “Then tell her to get out of here,” she says, waving her free hand at Clare. “I mean, goddamit, supes. You’ve always had people licking the dirt off your feet, but this? You’re shallow, but some of you must find this at least a little bit ridiculous. You don’t even work with other Capes out there. Why do you need her of all people?”

  “Why the hell is this such a big problem for you?” I ask her. “Get your hands off me and leave already.”

  Red looks at Clare. “Well? Gonna do something about it?”

  Clare, face blank, clutching her tablet, says, “You’re Sydney, right? Phoenix. Former number one in Texas. Congratulations.” She steps out of the elevator. The doors silently shut behind her. Now Red has to look up at her. Clare only has to look down her nose to see into Red’s sharp eyes. “I’ve seen your admission letter from Eddie March. Pretty impressive that you know your state’s governor. Even more impressive how much he begged PU to give you a chance, considering the twelve lives you lost in that school bus, or the thirty-seven more that died when Rocker Bridge collapsed.” Red’s shoulders tense. The air stinks of smoke. The lounge, large and sunlit, is deathly silent as Clare blinks slowly. “Tell me,” she says. “Why does Eddie March care so much about you? You’re not related to him. Your family comes from a cutesy little trailer park. You’ve got…nothing, and now you’re pointing your finger at the same girl who’s gonna lead Ultra Force into a new dawn one day, and you’re gonna watch from the same couch your grandfather is wasting away in right now. Belly fat with five kids, just like your momma. A grease monkey who welds things with her hands, just like daddy.” I blink. My gut coldly coils. I look at Red. She tenses her jaw, chews her tongue. Summer’s frown deepens. “So,” Clare says, taking Red’s wrist in her index finger and thumb, pulling it off my chest. “Yes, I’m going to do something about it. Thirty minutes at five o’clock today, she’ll be free enough to console any feelings I’ve hurt. Otherwise, I hope you have a pleasant Sunday. Samantha?” I swallow, then look at her—at that thin smile, at those cold, green eyes—as she presses the elevator’s button. “Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart. I have got a very busy day planned out for you, being that it’s your birthday, too.”

  Heavy silence. Slow wind. I hear Phoenix’s heartbeat thumping loudly against her ribs. Clare’s, though, is flat, easy and stable and slow. She’s not even looking at Red anymore. Red almost can’t take her eyes off of her.

  My mouth is drier than it first was coming to the elevator. Now it hurts to swallow.

  Red steps back.

  The sound of her flip-flops echo.

  “Happy birthday,” she says quietly, barely through her lips, then slowly turns around.

  She takes a deep breath. Air rattles up her chest.

  I open my mouth to say something, but I find nothing coming out of it, either.

  She leaves without another word, trailing smoke in her wake, turning the air gray.

  A lump sits in the base of my throat, because sure we insult each other, but…

  How did Clare know any of that? Heck, I didn’t even know most of that, and I’ve known Red for years.

  “See you at five, supes,” Jordan mutters, then peels away, following the trail of smoke. She looks at Clare one more time, who gives her a tiny finger-wave. Jordan tenses her jaw, then strides across the wide open lounge.

  Jason nods, smiles tightly, then says to Clare, “You got dirt on all of us or something?”

  Clare shrugs. “Entry-level knowledge. Nothing that a quick internet search can’t help.”

  He stares at her, then nods again. “Sinclare Jackson, right?”

  She tilts her head. Then smiles. “Lucky guess.”

  “Yeah,” he mutters, then turns around. “Pretty lucky.”

  Summer is the only one left, standing a foot away, still frowning at Clare. She takes her eyes off her, then looks at me with this soft, pouty face that…does absolutely nothing to my resolve. I’ve heard grown men shriek like toddlers when I rip them apart, begging to see their kids one last time, promising they won’t murder anyone else. Ha. Red has done nothing but degrade me for years. Online. In big, nation-wide interviews. She only stopped when she got arrested. But… I scratch my arm. Summer nods a little, smiles even less, and gently pats my shoulder.

  “Five o’clock,” she says, then walks backward. “I’ll get you a birthday cupcake.”

  And then she’s gone in a burst of wind.

  I’m left standing with Clare in the massive, empty lounge, sun-kissed, warm, and filthy. I look at her. She’s back to humming mom’s old theme song, watching the elevator swing open again. She waves me inside and smiles.

  I smile back, barely, and fight the urge to look over my shoulder.

  And finally step inside the elevator.