2103:10:21:14:12:21

  Mom sent a message she’d come pick me up later in the afternoon, at around 13:30. Like before, Mom insisted on picking me up by car despite home being an easy bus ride away. This time she didn’t even have an excuse for it, but that’s fine. If she wanted to pick me up, she could pick me up.

  She would have arrived as soon as we were done with lunch – hamburgers, omelets and fries; it felt more like dinner than lunch. But instead, she was running late.

  We were waiting outside, the three of us hanging out in Millie’s front garden. Jolie and Saga had planned to leave at around the same time, but as the minutes passed, they’d decided to wait until my mom picked me up. Even after half an hour had passed, they remained.

  Mom had never been late before, or at least, she’d never been late with me. Not that that said anything. Rare were the times Mom had needed to pick me up from something, so maybe she was always late to things? I doubted it – she was punctual enough in her morning routine and with her other appointments insofar as I could tell. Had something happened while on her way here?

  This state of uncertainty, it left me anxious.

  “She didn’t leave you any messages?” Jolie asked, arms crossed and leaning back in her chair.

  I shook my head as I paced back and forth. That was the first thing I checked, what with her admonishing me at the hospital and all.

  “She could’ve just, like, been called in for an emergency or something?” Millie said uneasily, hunching over in her lawn chair. “Happens all the time, right? Nothing to worry about.”

  “I’m not worried,” I said. “Just anxious.” Firefighting and urban rescue was dangerous, but Mom had been doing it for years now. There was no doubt in my mind that she’d make it through any emergency.

  But if it was ‘just’ another emergency, why hadn’t she sent a message?

  “It’ll be fine,” Saga said, unbothered. She was lying down in a lawn chair, browsing on her phone. “Parents are just late sometimes. Probably got stuck in traffic or something.”

  I swallowed a mean comment, instead saying, “There’re no reports of accidents or congestion.”

  I checked my phone again for any response to my previous messages, but saw nothing. Just to be sure, I sent another. Was this how she felt when I was in the hospital and failed to respond?

  Before my thoughts spiraled further, I heard the sound of squeaking wheels as a car took the turn a bit too tightly. My eyes turned to the sound’s origin, hoping to see my Mom’s car appear.

  Thankfully, my expectations were met. I released a sigh I didn’t know I was holding as Mom’s black sedan appeared around the corner.

  The car raced down the street and skidded to a stop in front of Millie’s house. If her squealing tires were any indication, she’d been going over the speed limits in her efforts to get here. Strangely, that act of law-breaking made me feel a bit better.

  A second later, the door on the driver side was thrown over and a frazzled-looking Mom stepped out of the car.

  Shoes clacking, she speed walked over to where I was standing. “Sorry I’m late! There was a bit of a, uh…” she fixed her hair as she thought of the words, “a ‘family surprise’, let’s say,” Mom said. I opened my mouth to respond, but she hugged me tight before I could say anything. “I’ll tell you about it in the car,” she told me.

  Her hug then tightened even further and she lifted me up from the ground, swaying me around like I was some kind of toy. “Ohhhh, I missed you honey!” She put me back down and took a good look at me.

  She smiled brightly after her examination and all but bounced in excitement. “Did you miss me? Did you have a good time? You gotta tell me – it’s mandatory!” Well, at least she hadn’t messed with my hair. So far.

  Millie’s laugh broke the reunion and I quickly created some distance between us, my face heating up. For the first time since my creation, I experienced the much-rumored teenage sensation of my-mom-is-embarrassing-me. My blush only deepened at the realization.

  Mom and I turned to our onlookers. Saga was grinning and Jolie joined Millie in laughing at the scene, albeit at softer volume. Clearly, my suffering was their amusement.

  “Your friends waited with you? How sweet of them!” she said. She turned back to me. “Aren’t you going to introduce me? Well, except Millie of course – already met the little bouncy ball yesterday.”

  Millie let out an affronted ‘hey’, but everyone ignored her.

  “That’s Saga,” I said, indicating her with a nod. “And that’s Jolie.”

  Mom beamed with pride. Had I done something impressive? “Nice to meet you. I’m Sam’s mom– obviously – though you can just call me Kati. Thank you for being friends with my daughter. Hope she wasn’t too much trouble?”

  While my friends shook their heads in denial – except Millie, who nodded but was ignored as usual – Mom’s hand went for the top of my head. Naturally, I anticipated it and dodged like my life depended on it – I’d already been embarrassed enough this past minute, no need to suffer any more.

  Mom snorted in response at my antics, turning towards my friends. “Anyway, before we go, any of you need a lift?”

  “No thank you,” Saga and Jolie said at the same time. “My home is within walking distance,” Jolie told Mom. “I think mine’s easier by bus than by car,” Saga said after.

  “Alright then,” Mom said and turned to me. “Go ahead and say bye. I’ll be in the car.” And off she went.

  I turned to my friends. I’d said goodbye many times to them before, but it had always been at school, in the flow of conversation and with somewhere else to be. I’ve never had to initiate goodbyes like this.

  I shuffled awkwardly for a bit, unsure of what to do before Jolie sighed and walked up to me. She stretched out her arms and moved in for a hug. “‘Bye Jolie. Yesterday was a lot of fun Jolie. See you tomorrow Jolie. Bye Sam, lots of fun Sam, see you tomorrow Sam,’” she said, holding the entire conversation by herself. “There, now you try,” she finished, stepping away from me.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  I smiled, but instead of imitating her, I decided to take a page out of my mother’s playbook. I stepped in for a hug, then lifted Jolie from the ground and swung her lightly to the left and right, saying, “Ohhh, I’m going to miss you,” in the most deadpan voice possible.

  Saga and Millie both laughed as Jolie spluttered in my loving embrace. That is, until I let Jolie back on the ground and fixed my eyes on them, and charged. Millie yelped and leapt out of her chair, going for distance while Saga took on a wrestling stance.

  Naturally, I responded to the challenge and charged her. I tackled her and although I limited the amount of force I used, I was surprised to find I had a difficult time lifting her. Nevertheless, I upped my output and lifted Saga up – this time to her surprise – and made to swing her around when I was attacked from behind.

  Millie struck unseen and pulled the scrunchie from my hair, a crime so foul it could not go unpunished. I abandoned my offensive on Saga and grabbed Millie before she could run away. Millie stretched out her arm to deny me my scrunchy, so instead I hugged her close and held her up in the air.

  And yet I was ambushed again, this time with Saga attacking me while I was distracted. Her long arms encircled the both of us from behind, and she managed lift both of us up.

  It didn’t last long. As Millie and I struggled against her grip, Saga lost her balance and all three of us ended up tumbling to the ground, once more finding ourselves in a mess of entangled limbs – something of a common occurrence over this weekend.

  While we were stuck in the mess of our own creation, Jolie walked over and grabbed my scrunchy, dusted it off and held it in her fist. Placing one leg on our three-person pile, she raised her fist to the sky and proclaimed, “Victory!”

  “My loss,” Saga moaned, voice sounding muffled coming from the bottom of the pile.

  “My loss,” Millie cried theatrically from the top.

  I hesitated for a second, before also declaring, “My loss.” I twisted my body free from the pile, Jolie yelping as she nearly fell to the ground herself.

  I rose up and held out my hand. “Now, can I get my scrunchy?”

  Jolie sniffed disdainfully, nose held high in the air. “Fine. And away with you!”

  I smiled. “Thanks,” I said. As the other two rose, I continued, “It was fun. See you tomorrow.”

  We did a final group hug as a goodbye, after which I joined my mom in her car.

  As I entered the car, Mom’s smile was so wide it seemed to almost bring her to tears. “It’s rare to see you so active,” she said. “They are good friends.”

  I nodded, feeling a bit sheepish at the comment. It was a true one, though. As my relationships developed, so had my social skills and personality. In hindsight, it was a bit frightening how much I’d changed over the past months, and especially how much that was caused by outside influences rather than something more innate.

  Not that I regretted it. There was little ‘innate’ within me. I hadn’t realized it at the time, but the decision to emulate Samantha Pearsson with her- with my mother providing the framework was likely the best decision I’d ever made. And it was one I made, personally. Even if I hadn’t understood its full implications.

  As for proof? For one, my Heroic Impulse had all but stopped giving me input. Even when masking, it rarely sounded the alarm anymore. Only in the case of Crowsong’s prior… zealous interrogations did it feel the need to warn me, something I agreed with. On my personal life, it hadn’t influenced me since Amber. For another, my Mom was happy, my friends were happy, my mentor was happy, and I was well underway toward a great heroic career.

  The only stumbling block was parts of my personality didn’t seem to be filling out as well as it should’ve, as I’d discovered yesterday and the day before that. But for the most part, things were going great.

  As we drove away from Millie’s house, I remembered something Mom had said before. “You said you’d tell me something in the car?” I prompted.

  “Oh, right,” Mom said, sounding… some type of way. Her voice was heavy with emotion, but I couldn’t tell if it was positive or negative. “Your brother called.”

  Silence lingered for a moment, my mind processing the information.

  “My brother?” I asked.

  I vaguely remembered his name – Michael – from the document I received back when city hall ‘discovered’ I had a family. I’d seen images of him around the house, but couldn’t recall Mom ever having talked about him directly. At most, he’d been mentioned in passing, like when a tiny Samantha Pearsson was holding him or when Mom showed me old family photos. But never once did she mention where he was, what he was doing, why they were on non-speaking terms or anything else about him.

  To be honest, I half believed he was dead and that it would be rude to ask Mom about it.

  “Things were… difficult after you and your father got displaced,” she said. “Michael was just twelve-years-old at the time and not ready to deal with it – not that anyone ever can be, really. He quickly grew distant, became quick to anger, starting arguments all the time...” She trailed off in thought for a second before snapping herself out of it just as quickly.

  “Not that I blame him!” she answered, frantically denying an accusation only she herself heard. “It was my fault. Your, ah… deaths, I suppose, and then work demanding my attention… Michael was just a kid. Can’t expect a kid to deal with something even the most stoic, hard-boiled adult can’t process. Something I myself couldn’t deal with…” she whispered the last part to herself, trailing off again afterwards.

  “So, why did he call?” I asked once it became clear she wouldn’t snap out of it on her own.

  “What? Oh, yes, he called to say he’d finally found the opportunity to come visit.” Here, she actually smiled, even if traces of sadness lingered at their edges. “He’s been trying to ever since he heard of your return-” yet he couldn’t find the time to send me a single message? “-but his work-study program in New York has mandatory attendance for specific lessons and tests, and shuttle flights over the American heartland can be difficult to arrange, so it can be difficult to get from coast to coast. Unless you’ve got the money to splurge on a masked or otherwise powered detail. Or pay off the villains. Or have the Caravanners ship you. Or teleportation. Or-”

  Mom cleared her throat. “Well, either way, he managed to find both the time and a way to come by shuttle! Some kind of deal he got through his employers or something – wasn’t quite clear on that. Might be staying a long time as well – again, he wasn’t exactly clear on that, could be November only, or ‘till the end of the year or even longer. Really, can’t that boy be clearer on things like that? I swear, sometimes he-”

  She cut herself off and cleared her throat again. “Anyway. He’ll be arriving the tenth next month and will spend at least a couple of weeks with us.”

  “And you were late because of that?”

  “What?” Mom asked, experiencing whiplash at the return to topic. “Oh, yeah the conversation kind of went a long time. We, ah, don’t speak a lot, and whenever we do things can get a bit… heated. Even forgot my phone 'cause of that…” she admitted sheepishly.

  “Is that why he’s never sent me a message?” I asked.

  I thought I’d asked it calmly and neutrally, but from the way Mom almost jumped out of her seat I must not have.

  “No! No, no, no, of course not honey-!” Mom coughed as her words tried to force themselves out all at once. “No, it’s just, ahhh- as I said, he had a difficult time with when you disappeared, and now all of the sudden you’re back? If I hadn’t seen you for myself, I would’ve found it difficult to believe too.”

  I stomped down my guilt with practiced ease.

  “Sooo…” Mom began when silence lingered. “What do you think?”

  I shrugged. “I think you’re making excuses for him.” That seemed the most likely option.

  Mom blinked rapidly at that. “What- No, I meant, what do you think about your brother visiting?”

  Oh, right. That.

  Intellectually, I knew I should fear it a little. Another person that knows the real Samantha Pearsson meant another chance for me to be discovered. But really, as long as I had Mom on my side – and I saw little cause for her opinion to suddenly shift at my brother’s insistence, especially with how difficult their relation seemed to be – I figured I’d be safe.

  A cold calculus, but a necessary one.

  So, carrying that coldness, I shrugged. “Okay.”

  She turned and stared at me for a second, studying my expression before turning back to the road again.

  “Okay then,” she echoed nonchalantly, then smiled. “On to something hopefully a bit more fun: how was your weekend?”

  Like her, I shifted gears. “Great. Was a lot of fun,” I said. “We went to the mall on Millie’s insistence and shopped around for the most part, though I did get to eat some bad wok.” I smiled at the memory. “Then we went to the beach, which turned out to basically just be another mall, but in the open air.”

  “Not really beach weather anymore, huh.”

  I shrugged. “Was still fun though. We went to a music shop Jolie knew the owner of and she taught me a little piano.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “Don’t really know. It was fine, but maybe that was just because I was with friends? Jolie did promise to help me find some music I enjoy though.”

  “Hmm, it’s good to try new things,” she said. She made a turn left. I recognized the street – it was ours. We were getting close to home.

  “Did anything else happen at the beach?” she asked.

  Watching the houses go by, I answered, “We went to some smaller stores, like where they sold small souvenirs and other novelty stuff. Millie did drag me to a jewelry store where we talked about my ‘clothing style’ or something, but that was cut short when it got robbed.”

  I saw our house come appear in the distance when suddenly, I shot forward in my seat as Mom all but slammed the brakes, my head prevented from slamming into the dashboard by the seatbelt locking in place. I turned to look at her and saw her staring at me, wide-eyed and frightened. “Wait, you got robbed? It wasn’t that store that got robbed by a villain, was it?”

  Oh. “No- well, yes, but nothing was actually robbed. The villain got stopped by some other masked before they could do anything.”

  “Some other masked, huh,” she said, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “And this happened yesterday?

  I scratched my cheek. “Yes.”

  “And you decided not to call your mother immediately about this dangerous thing that just happened, because…?”

  “It wasn’t that dangerous?” I said hesitantly. Seeing Mom’s glare, I elaborated, “I mean, they were just there to rob the store and they got stopped before they could even do that.” I shrugged and looked away, avoiding her penetrating eyes. “Just, didn’t think it was a big deal.”

  Mom took in a deep breath, then released. “I’m going to take this in good faith and say you didn’t know any better.” She nodded at her own decision. “What about your friends? They didn’t pressure you not to tell?” she asked, concerned.

  “No,” I quickly – and truthfully – denied. “They just didn’t see it as a big deal either.”

  “Hmm,” Mom hmm-ed disparagingly. “Let’s see what their parents have to say about that.”

  I felt a shiver run down my spine as the car began moving again, crawling the last hundred meters to our home.