fighting but quickly give up as the car pulls away. This is exactly what I didn’t need right now. To be kidnapped. Again.
Is there a punch card for this kind of thing?
Kapow Ad Spot
Matt: There’s nothing that gets me more fired up than a Cubs win—except a Kapow energy drink! Packed with a powerful punch of caffeine and super-natural ingredients, every can of Kapow brings out the Warrior in me! Yeah!
THE BROWN LINE CAR SWAYS AS I SCRIBBLE down notes about my first week at Warrior Nation. I could probably write a novel at this point about all the things I’ve seen, especially since the only one I can confide in is my grail diary. But instead of writing about all the different training rooms (thirteen in total, including martial arts, aquatics, and ax throwing) or how many retired hero suits are hanging in the Hall of Honor (thirty-six), I focus on one hero aspect in particular: Joy. Now that her superhero branding is being reimagined in a more practical yet powerful direction, I’m finally ready for Girl Power to have her own page in my records.
Girl Power
Power: super strength
Weaknesses: no knowledge of Warrior Nation
Highlights: -when she took her first official hero headshot and I helped advise during the shoot
-when she told Millie she wants all Girl Power branding to be approved by our unofficial teenage-culture correspondent (aka me!)
-when we bumped into each other in the kitchen and ended up talking for an hour over ice cream sandwiches we found in the back of the freezer
I stop writing, unable to contain a grin. I should probably erase that last point, since it’s not legitimate Warrior business, but it was definitely a high point in my week. Seeing her tough, determined face melt into something soft and sweet was like a sucker punch right in the feels, but it’s been pinned to my heart ever since.
I wonder what she’s going to do this weekend, or if heroes even get days off. What does she like to do when she’s not flexing her super strength? Is she an outdoorsy kind of girl? An athlete? A gamer? Her husky laugh rings through my ears, cracking up at me for thinking of her outside of work, but thoughts of her bright blue eyes and pale pink lips are interrupted by another face, this one not in my head, staring back at me.
A man just a few rows away on the train has fixated on me. Hungry eyes rove my body, making all the hair on my arms stand at attention. Wearing a large woolen hat and a bulky turtleneck that is completely off-season, a subtle, thin-lipped smile creeps across his bearded face. I look away, my heart taking off like a machine gun. Why is he looking at me like that? I glance over my shoulder to see if there’s anyone else in his line of sight, but no, there’s no one behind me. I hear him crack his knuckles, sending a shiver down my spine, but my eyes are glued to my lap.
Stay calm, I tell myself, although my stomach has already tied itself in knots. Think. What would Blue Streak do? The train comes to a stop in Wrigleyville, and even though I still have four more stops to go, I jump off, unable to spend one more minute breathing the same air as that creep. Stepping onto the Addison platform, I exhale deeply as the train pulls away. But my relief is short-lived, because once I reach the sidewalk, I hear those knuckles crack again.
It’s him! He followed me! Shit, shit, shit!
Adrenaline taking over, I pick up my pace, pulling out my phone. Mom doesn’t pick up, texting back that she’s in a meeting, but I’m walking too fast and my hands are shaking too violently to write back. I dial Demi, who lets it ring and ring and ring. PICK UP THE PHONE!
“Claire, why are you calling me?” she groans when she finally bothers to answer. “You know I have Latin lessons on Friday nights.”
“DEMI!” I pant, tears streaming down my face. “Someone is following me!”
Her tone immediately shifts. “Holy shit, are you serious?”
“Yes! There was a guy on the train…. He followed me off…. He’s right behind me!”
“Claire, run! Where are you? I’ll call the police!” my friend yells.
“I’m—” But the man grabs my arm, callused hands pulling me into an alley. He throws my phone, smashing it on the sidewalk, pinning me to the wall. Foul breath wafts