I guess the time has come. “Mom, I’m not going to college,” I reveal, my voice shaky.
She stares at me, unable to process. Once the weight of my words finally settles, she almost shrinks an inch, like my plan has somehow increased the gravity pushing down on her body. “What are you…What are you talking about?”
“I don’t want to keep going with school after I graduate.”
“But…your grades, your extracurriculars! God, Claire, you’re almost valedictorian!”
“I know.” I rub my bare arm, feeling exposed after baring my secret. “I did all that for this. To get where I am, to get a foot in the door. Mom, I’m actually making a difference there! I’ve been helping with a new hero—Girl Power, the one who saved me. She listens to me, and other people do too!”
“But you have to get an education!”
“Why? Why do I have to? School is all about figuring out what you want to do with your life, but I already know! I’ve been in like a hundred clubs, and gotten As in every possible subject. But nothing has ever made me feel like this. Like all my time and talent could be put toward something that matters.”
Mom eases herself into an armchair, spacing out. I kneel beside her, placing a hand on her teddy-bear pj pants. She turns, slowly, to face me, blue eyes welling with tears. “I just want what’s best for you,” she chokes out. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“Mom, I love you, more than anything. But I’m almost an adult. I don’t need your protection; I need your support.”
A tear runs down her cheek, and I do my best to curl my lanky arms and legs up into her lap, holding her as she cries. I never meant for any of this to happen; I never meant to cause my mom pain. All I can do is try to be more careful, to make sure I never get in any dangerous situations again.
“I’m gonna make this okay, you’ll see,” I say as her tears begin to slow. “I’ll do anything it takes to make you feel better about Warrior Nation. I’ll live-tweet my commute to and from…. I’ll check in every hour, on the hour…. I’ll wear a GPS tracker!”
She gives a little laugh, wiping her face. “I trust you, you know that, right?” I nod. “I just don’t trust anyone else.”
“That’s fair. The world is full of terrible people. But that’s why I have to do this…to help fight them!”
Mom sniffles. “I’ll take those donuts now.”
“Really? Okay, I’ll go to Kuppie’s around the corner. You want a bear claw and a chocolate sprinkle?” She smiles. “I’ll be right back.”
Stepping onto the sidewalk, I feel a wave of relief. Maybe Mom isn’t 100 percent Team Warrior right now, but I talked her off the ledge of outright forbidding my future involvement. And that’s all I need right now.
Kuppie’s, our favorite bakery within walking distance, is a tiny, hole-in-the-wall spot that just happens to be filled with the most intoxicating vanilla-bean aroma I’ve ever encountered. Standing at the glass display case stocked with a tempting rainbow of pastries and treats, I almost get a sugar high just from breathing. It’s a tough decision, but I eventually choose a lemon pistachio for myself, along with Mom’s picks. Then I realize there’s no one there to take my order.
“Hello?” I call out. I hear something coming from the back, like a muffled television, and after a few minutes of no one answering my calls, I tiptoe back to see what’s delaying service. I need these donuts to cement Mom’s belief in me!
“Hello?” I repeat, announcing my entry to the kitchen, only to find the staff crowded around a small TV tuned to the news. With everyone glued to the screen, no one even notices as I peer over.
Whoa. It looks like there was an incident by the art museum downtown…some kind of suicide bomber or something? Clearly I missed the beginning, but there’s a giant sinkhole where Michigan Ave should be. My WarNat brain starts firing off possible villains who could have done this…. Crumbler? Dr. Destroy? Aerial cameras swirl around the scene, capturing the absolute chaos of crying victims clinging to paramedics as officials try to ensure everyone is getting the care they need.
And then…Girl Power is on the screen! OMG, there she is! Giving a statement to the reporter. My heartbeat quickens as I search Joy’s image for signs of injury or distress, but while her baby-blue