~~~~

Dedicated to AloneInWonderland for the banner above. Thank you so much :)

~~~~

News spreads fast in a small town like Sterling.

            I'd known that for a while, of course. Whether it be about the mayor's adultery, Mr. Timor's affair with the babysitter, or the latest teenage scandal, it spread around the homely town like wildfire. Everyone from the high school students to the old ladies in the nursing homes knew, and everyone in Sterling loved a good gossip.

            However, there are some things that you don't expect to spread around a town like this.

            Like the sudden drug ring that had sprung up almost overnight down on the corner of Lakehirst Street, or the fact that Miss Leahy's electricity got cut because she didn't pay her bills.

            Or a stupid news article that a stupid high schooler published in the school's stupid magazine about the town's superhero.

            It was officially sent to print on Sunday, and sent out to students on Monday. By the following Friday, it had spread to everyone in town.

            When I'd been desperate for an article to publish before the due date the week before, the only conceivable thought that had come to mind was The Black Phoenix. And, so, in a moment of utter desperation, I'd written the article about him. I'd left out the personal things he'd told me, but I'd just expressed my views, including the fact I was convinced he was actually a hero, not some kind of shaded villain. I'd thought no one would ever be interested in reading it.

            I was wrong.

            I had students coming up to me at every available moment to ask me about my article on The Black Phoenix (which, yes, I had artfully slipped into the article to fulfill his promise) and how I knew he was a good guy, as I'd promised people in the article that I had expected literally nobody to read.

            It was like one moment you're living an unsuspecting existence, and the next thing you know you've got people coming up to you at lunch in the cafeteria and bombarding you with endless questions about the town's superhero and you're involvement with the elusive figure.

            Once I'd finally made it home Friday night—after a pseudo-attack in the parking lot involving a bunch of sophomore girls yelling questions to me about The Black Phoenix—I was more than glad that I'd finally made it home without being mobbed by fangirls wanting to know the ins and outs of my involvement with him. I'd never expected it to be read, let alone go public.

            I sighed and sat on my bed, rubbing my tired eyes. I couldn't help but wonder if I'd done the right thing. How would he see it, if he ever found out? Would he think I was using his public image to boost my own? That I was using him for popularity? I hoped not, because that wasn't the case at all.

            As if on cue, I jumped at the sound of an incessant tapping at my window, and turned my head to see him standing outside, clad in the skin-tight leather suit I'd come to associate with him.

            My stomach dropped, and I slowly walked over to the window. He stood like a still silhouette against the stormy gray sky, impassive and tall and utterly scary. He looked kind of like a villain in that moment.

            I slowly opened the window with an ominous creak, and he stepped back to allow me to walk onto the roof. I slowly stepped onto the tiles, being careful not to take an ungraceful tumble like I had the first time we met.

            "Hey," I said slowly, once I'd gained stable footing on the gabled roof tiles.

            "Hi," he responded, his tone low and void of inflection. From behind his back he brought up a spreadsheet of paper and shook it. "I found this today. You wouldn't happen to know what it is, would you?"

            I looked at the familiar sepia paper and the printed words. There in bold was my name on the byline, as well as Oscar's for the photography. The words I'd written a mere week ago stood printed before me in all of their glory, and I licked my lips nervously as I read the first paragraph:

            When the appearance of a seemingly superhuman man entered onto the quiet scene of Sterling, New York, a year ago, towngoers were shocked by the man's seemingly invincible figure and penchant for saving crime...

            "Ah, I see you read my article," I said, scratching the back of my head nervously.

            "Why didn't you tell me, Violet?" he asked quietly, the paper still clutched tightly in his grasp.

            "You haven't exactly been around to tell," I said bitterly, and until that moment I hadn't even realized how much I'd missed having his presence around to talk to.

            "If you need me, I'm always around," he responded.

            "You don't exactly have a phone to call on."

            "If you need me, just sit out here. I drop by a few times to check on you, and if I see you there, I'll know you need me."

            "Okay," I said, because it seemed like a pretty viable plan. "But, look, I'm sorry about the article. I'm sorry if you think I'm mooching off of your fame, or something."

            "You think that's why I'm angry?" he asked, startled. "Violet, that's not it at all."

            "Then why is it?"

            "What was the one thing I asked you to do?" he demanded.

            I thought back to our previous conversations, but drew up short. "Uh..."

            "Stay out of trouble!" he told me. "The one thing I asked of you was to stay under the radar, keep your head down, and stay out of trouble so that men like Nathaniel LeRuggia don't come stumbling onto the scene. And what did you do? You wrote a freaking article on me."

            "I'm sorry!" I said. "Okay? I'm sorry. But I couldn't think of anything to write before the deadline and I panicked and I thought this might be a good way to stop people from seeing you as some kind of bad guy. I thought you could do well with some good press."

            "I don't care what people think of me!" he said, throwing out his arms exasperatedly. "I care that you stay safe! And this is a very good way to make sure Nathaniel finds you."

            "Do you want me to print a retraction?" I asked. "An apology? What?"

            He shook his head. "Don't you see, Violet? It's too late now to do anything. It's over."

            "Look, I'm sorry," I repeated, slower and calmer this time. "I'm sorry if I put you in danger, or whatever else I might have screwed up in the process. I wasn't thinking, and I certainly didn't expect this to happen."

            He sighed and looked away, as if this conversation pained him far too much to merit him sticking around. "Whatever. I gotta go."

            He started towards the edge of the roof, and my jaw almost dropped open. "So, what? You're just gonna leave now?"

            He turned around. "I have nothing more to say to you, Violet. I'm trying to protect you here. But I can't do that if you won't protect yourself."

            "I'm sorry! How many times do I have to say that? I'm. Sorry."

            "Sorry isn't going to save your life," he snapped, before turning around and leaping off of the building before I could get a word in edgewise. I ran to the edge of the roof and called for him, but it was to no avail.

            He didn't look back, and he didn't so much as flinch.

            Within mere seconds he had disappeared from sight, and I sunk back from the roof, knowing I was now officially alone on this cold, dark night.

            ~          *          ~

            "Violet, I need a favor," Chloe announced Monday morning as she entered into the newspaper office, her favorite handbag draped over her arm and a steaming thermos in her other hand.

            It had been quiet over the weekend. The Black Phoenix hadn't dropped in, and I hadn't made a move to lure him back, too hurt and angry over our exchanged words Friday night to just give in and will him back to me. Sure, maybe I'd done something wrong and gone against his wishes, but I'd apologized, and there was nothing more I could do. Plus, who would take a lowly senior girl's word for it? It was just some stupid article. It probably hadn't even made it out of Sterling.

            I rubbed my eyes. "Your favors usually involve something illegal or dangerous," I told her. "Or both. Is this going to risk my life?"

            She pursed her lips and thought for a second. "No. But maybe your dignity."

            I cringed. "Oh, God. What do you want me to do?"

            She sighed and flopped into her desk chair, before putting down her handbag and coffee and facing me with a serious look. "Well, Dave finally asked me out," she began.

            "That's awesome! Congrats, Chlo," I said genuinely. It seemed she really had a thing for him, and I was glad at least someone around here had some semblance of a love life, since I hadn't even heard from Sam in the last week. Maybe I'd given off the wrong vibe at the coffee shop. Who knew?

            She beamed at me, revealing those startlingly bright pearly whites. "Thanks! Anyway, the date is set for this Friday night, but..."

            I frowned. "But what?"

            She grimaced. "Well, Keeley asked me to cover for her at the Halloween dance, and I kind of agreed. But I really like Dave, and I don't want to give off the wrong vibe..."

            "So you want me to report on the dance for you?" I asked, before shaking my head. "No way, Chloe. You know I hate those stupid dances. It's all balloons and exaggerated decorations and stupid dances and school cheer."

            "Vi, please!" she begged, her green eyes widening and her lower lip jutting out as she fixed me with the famous Chloe Morgan puppy-dog stare. "I need your help!"

            "You love these things!" I argued. "You always show up for pep rallies and that whole fake 'go-team-rah-rah' enthusiasm. Can't you reschedule for Saturday?"

            She scrunched her nose up. "No. Jennifer's dragging me to some stupid Tupperware party for girl-bonding time. This is my only chance. Vi, please. Please."

            I sighed. Unfortunately, I was a sucker for that pout. I rolled my eyes. "Fine, I'll help you. But you owe me. My Christmas gift better be freaking huge this year."

            She pumped her fist in the air and let out an uncharacteristic whoop. "Yes! Thank you so much, Vi. I'm sure the dance will be great. Spiked punch, cute boys, dancing.... Maybe you can even bring Sam along!"

            "Nah," I said, standing up and collecting my things. "He's a college boy. He's too sophisticated for school dances. I'll hit it alone. Maybe I'll cover the dance from a single girl's perspective."

            "Considering your spike in popularity over the whole superhero article last week, I'd think it won't be long before someone catches your interest," Chloe replied with a wink.

            "It was just a stupid article," I told her, remembering my heated conversation with the man in question a few nights ago.

            "Whoa, easy there, what's with the pout?" Chloe asked, surveying me. "You should be happy. Aren't journalists literally calling your house looking for the inside scoop? You're famous, Vi! Have a martini, sunbake on the beach, live it up!"

            "Live it up?" I asked. "I've got people calling my house from freaking Massachusetts asking for a scoop. This isn't what I wanted."

            "Let me guess, your mystery man didn't like the article?" Chloe asked, probably catching onto why I was so upset. "Why? I thought he'd like the press."

            "Me, too," I told her honestly. "But he thinks I put myself in danger."

            "Why?" Chloe asked.

            There was no way I was going to open that can of worms. I'd already told Chloe too much but letting her know I was in cahoots with The Black Phoenix. I couldn't let her know any more without endangering her life also.

            "I don't know," I lied. "Maybe he's just paranoid."

            "Or in love with you," Chloe sing-songed.

            I barked out a laugh, knowing only the opposite could be true. The Black Phoenix and I didn't have that kind of relationship—in fact, I didn't even know what kind of relationship we even had. We certainly weren't on friendly terms right now, that was for sure.

            Overhead the bell rang, and I grabbed my bag and logged out of the computers, ready for homeroom. "Don't be ridiculous, Chlo," I said, shaking my head. "We're just acquaintances."

            "Oh, come on," Chloe argued, and I followed her into the crush of teenagers heading for class. "He doesn't exactly talk to anybody else. You're like his only friend in this whole place. Of course he likes you. The better question is, do you like him back?"

            "We hardly know each other!" I argued. "I think you're still trapped in the pages of those romance novels you read, Chloe."

            She shrugged. "Whatever. Don't come crying to me when he declares his undying superhuman love for you. Which he will."

            She pranced off down the opposite corridor then, leaving me alone to make my way to class.

            I sighed. It seemed that everyone else was getting the last word lately. Damn.

            ~          *          ~

            By the time I made it to fourth period and out of the rain (somehow a storm had appeared almost overnight) I was five minutes late to class and totally not in the mood to receive a tardy. It was Monday, I was currently fighting with the town's superhero, and I was covered in heavy rain. I was not in a mood to be messed with.

            My teacher must have sensed this, as she kept her mouth shut and gestured for me to take a seat in the only available spot in the room—next to none other than Colton Cross.

            I sighed and slid down the aisles until I reached the seat, before dropping unceremoniously into the chair. Colton remained perfectly dry, as if it were a warm day in May.

            "You're wet," Colton observed a moment later, as I dug around in my hobo bag for my book and pen.

            I looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Wow, shocker. With those investigative skills, you totally deserve a spot on the school's newspaper!"

            He frowned. "Whoa, chill, V. I was just saying..."

            I felt a flash of guilt. It wasn't his fault nothing was going my way today, and it certainly wasn't his fault I was acting like a bitch.

            "You're right," I said, letting out a sigh and digging out my black biro. "I'm sorry. I'm just having a really bad day."

            He appraised my damp hair and clothes. "I can see that. Anything I can do to make your day easier?"

            "Tell me a joke?" I asked with a hopeful smile. "I could really use a laugh right now."

            He thought for a second. "Knock knock."

            I smiled. "Who's there?"

            "Interrupting cow."

            I frowned at the interesting turn of events. "Interrupting cow wh—"

            "Moo!"

            I burst into surprised laughter at his interruption, and clapped a hand to my mouth. He grinned happily, as if his mission in life was complete.

            "Colton, Violet, is there something funny you'd like to share with the class?"

            I looked up from where my history teacher had been writing up notes about the Crimean War, and shook my head. "Uh, no. Sorry."

            "Well, then, maybe you can just tell me what was so funny in detention this afternoon," the teacher quipped, before turning back to the board and continuing to scribble down notes.

            This wasn't the first time I'd been subjected to the torture known as detention—unfortunately I'd suffered through it far too many times when Chloe and I had been seated together in most classes sophomore year—but I still felt that familiar bolt of anger and unjust at being sent to that special little hell.

            I turned back around, and my eyes involuntarily slid to Colton. Despite the fact we'd just been told off and sent to detention, he didn't look fussed at all.

            Instead he just turned to me with a cool gaze, and mouthed towards me, "Moo."

            And suddenly detention didn't sound so bad, and I couldn't help the small smile that slowly slid onto my features.