whispers into my purple hair. “I always knew you could do it.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Now, tell me every single detail!” she demands, grabbing us some plates. “Do not leave anything out or I will know—mothers always know.”
NDA be damned—I tell her everything. I mean, this is my mom; I can’t keep secrets from her. Over multiple slices of deep-dish pepperoni, I spill about secret slides, underground offices, Millie, Teddy, and Joy. I only wish I didn’t have to end the story on a sad note.
“There is one more thing,” I say, setting down my crust.
“Whamp?” she mumbles through a bite of cheese.
“So, you know Joy? The new girl? She’s replacing Blue Streak. He’s…gone.”
Mom starts violently coughing, spitting out her last bite. “What happened to him? I’ve been buried in spreadsheets all day. Is he…?”
“No! OMG, no, he’s not dead. He’s just retiring.”
She presses a hand to her chest. “Claire! You nearly give me a damn heart attack!”
“Sorry. There’s going to be a press conference tonight, in like ten minutes.”
She nods sadly. “Okay. Let me go put on pj’s and pour some wine—I wasn’t ready for this.” Mom loves Blue Streak just as much as I do. How could she not? He saved both our lives.
We settle into the couch, each wearing our officially licensed Warrior Nation pajamas we gave each other for Christmas. The laptop sits between us, and before I know it, the heroes’ blue-and-silver insignia lights up the screen as Millie Montouse and Roy Masterson, Chicago chapter president, take the stage. Millie walks right past Roy and steps up to the podium, giant glasses making her humorless eyes appear double in size. It’s so weird to think that I was actually talking to her mere hours ago!
“Did you know she’s like four ten?” I tell my mom.
“No way! She’s always scared me a little.”
“I know. She’s even more intense in person.”
“Thank you all for being here today on such short notice,” Millie begins, her voice calm and clear, without a hint of emotion. “Today, Warrior Nation is saying goodbye to one of our most prolific heroes, a man who has guided this chapter with strength, wisdom, and dependability. While we are saddened to lose a true legend, we are honored that he dedicated his life to the city of Chicago, protecting its citizens as if they were his own family and bringing peace to the Windy City. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Blue Streak.”
The room breaks out into thunderous applause, as reporters jump to their feet, waving their notepads and recorders in the air. Blue Streak takes the stage, wearing his hero suit: red-white-and-blue spandex, with a long blue cape trailing him. Only today he’s not covering his face with his mask, letting everyone see him for the man he truly is. Mom grabs my arm, snuggling her cheek into my shoulder. I realize I’m holding my breath, not wanting to miss a word.
The first reporter begins. “Blue Streak, let me be the first to say thank you for your service. You are the true embodiment of a hero.”
Blue Streak nods. “Thank you.”
“We were all shocked to learn of your retirement today. Was this something you’ve been planning for a while?”
Blue Streak rubs his chin, massive fingers grazing over stubble. “As a younger man, I couldn’t imagine walking away from this life. But after thirty-four years of serving this great city, it is time to hang up my cape.”
Another reporter jumps in. “What prompted your deci-sion, then?”
“Sometimes life takes…unexpected turns.” He looks off, wistful. “I’m fifty-five. There were days I wasn’t sure I would even make it this far. And now the game has changed.”
“I don’t blame him,” Mom interjects. “I wouldn’t want to be out there in tights at his age. Although he’s still pulling them off.”
“Shhh!” I scold.
“The remaining Chicago heroes are less than half your age,” starts another journalist.
Blue Streak waits, then asks, “Was that a question?” Everyone in the room laughs.
“Do you think Warrior Nation is trending toward younger members?”
He frowns. “Look, Warriors tend to start young. I was only twenty-one when I joined. It was a big adjustment even then, and that was before selfies and social media.” The crowd laughs again. “There’s a lot of pressure on these heroes today to not only save lives, but build personal brands. My focus has always been on one thing: public safety.”
“Were you part of your replacement’s selection?” someone asks.
“No.”
“Any advice for the next generation?”
He considers this, scanning the room. I want him to spout off