“Um…” I’m fumbling and not just because I have a pack of dogs winding around my feet. “How’s it going at HQ?”
“Surprisingly not terrible.” She smirks. “Roy has actually stepped up to be a real leader, and now that Teddy feels like he helped save the city, he’s become way less insufferable.”
“That’s good.” I’ve seen Roy on TV, standing up during all the Warrior Nation press conferences. He’s already made some waves as far as how the organization will operate moving forward, emphasizing more inclusivity and support systems for those who struggle with handling their powers. The WarNats are still freaking out over all these changes, but I feel he’s making the right moves.
Joy nervously inches closer, careful not to step on any paws. “I do miss seeing you around HQ, though,” she admits, voice soft. “Supply closets have mysteriously lost all appeal.”
I blush, imagining her hands grabbing my waist, her lips on mine. I still think about her—all the heroes—all the time. Warrior Nation has left a gaping hole in my heart, one I’m not sure how to fill. But I did take down my mural. While I couldn’t bring myself to throw away all my Blue Streak stuff (not yet, anyway), I also couldn’t have it staring at me while I sleep. In its place, I’ve started a new collage of stuff that’s really important: pictures of Bridgette and Demi, me and Mom, brochures from college visits. And a picture of me and Joy, because…I’m not ready to let go of her yet. “I miss you too,” I say honestly.
“Are you sure you won’t take Roy’s job offer?”
“What, and leave all this?” I laugh, gesturing to the dog pile.
“Yeah, I guess that’d be pretty hard to walk away from.”
“I’m glad you came.” I reach for her hand, and she gives a quick squeeze, big blue eyes wanting more. Sometimes I wonder if I made the right decision turning my back on Warrior Nation. If I’d tried to stick it out a little longer, to make the stress and drama of hero life work, would it have become the new normal? Would I have gotten used to the constant fluttering in my chest and knot in my stomach? I still struggle to take a relaxed breath, though it’s getting easier every day. Even if being without Joy has stirred up a new kind of pain.
“Can I call you sometime?” she asks, hopeful, and I nod, intertwining her fingers in mine. My skin prickles with goose bumps, relieved to feel her touch again. I’d hoped the next time I saw her I’d feel this way: feelings soaring without the weight of Siege causing doubt. Maybe now I can step forward instead of retreating. Maybe now I’ve been granted the power to heal.
“Maybe we can finally go on our first real date,” I suggest.
Joy smiles. “Okay, talk soon,” she says, before turning to walk away. Part of me wants to call her back, to wrap her in my arms and kiss her right now. But I don’t want to rush it.
I once thought my days had to be larger than life for me to amount to something.
But as it turns out, following your heart can be an equally epic adventure.
MY COLLECTION OF ART PAPER IS SPREAD over the floor like a rainbow magic carpet. It’s been a while since I’ve had time to lay them all out like this, taking stock of all the colors, patterns, and textures. I have an assignment due soon, to create something that projects strength. I finally got my cast off, and it feels so good to have my X-Acto knife back in my right hand. Working with my left actually created some interesting results, but I’ll never admit it to Matt.
“How many cookies do you want?” he calls from Becca’s kitchen. We’ve slowly started hanging out again, focusing on our friendship first. I know he wants our time together to blossom into something more, but I’m not sure if I’m there yet. While our wounds have healed, I can still see Matt’s bruises and feel Charles’s fingers around my neck. I refuse to let either of us cause the other any more pain. Still, he asked if he could come over and bake me some “creativity fuel” while I work, and I couldn’t very well say no to cookies. The scent of cinnamon and sugar has been wafting