^^Above, chapter title credit: Song by Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark (O.M.D.)^^

{Raina}

The holiday season arrives fairly uneventfully. El invites me to spend Christmas and New Year's with her family, since mine seems much too dysfunctional to notice whether I come home or not. I jump at the chance, naturally. Any time I don't have to spend at home is time not wasted.

Despite that, the fact that I may have to go home eventually crouches in the back of my mind. I've managed to circumvent two trips now, but when summer vacation comes, I'm not sure I'll be able to put it off any longer. Even though I'm sure by then I'll have enough courage to face whatever that visit entails.

The thought's pushed from my mind when we arrive in New York City, only a forty-five minute drive from school. The tall buildings tower over us, casting dark pools of shadow over the streets. Some might have found it constricting, but I feel safe here. Like I could disappear and no one could find me. Not even my fractured family.

"Come on, country girl, this is my place," El says as she climbs out of the opposite side of the taxi. "I'll get the suitcases if you make sure this hoodlum doesn't drive off."

"Twenty-forty-five for that insult, kid," drawls the taxi driver.

El rolls her eyes, but pays the fare anyway. After we've unloaded, I can't help but stare up at the stately brick apartment building we're standing in front of. There's an awning and a doorman and everything, and the door's even opened for us when we approach.

"Thanks, Ken," El says, with a little salute.

"Any time, Miss Forbes," Ken answers, touching the brim of his cap and winking at me.

"Ken's been the doorman since I was a baby," El explains as we step into an elevator and she pushes the fourth-floor button. "And Mom's helping his kids through private school."

I nod, but say nothing. Unlike the visit to Geoff's, I don't feel constantly out of place or judged. El told me once that I was welcome to come stay any time I wanted, and I was truly grateful to have that one small refuge.

When we enter her apartment, no one's home. El says we arrived in the middle of the workday, and neither of her parents are off yet. That's fine with me, because I could use a little bit of solitude, even if this isn't my home.

Halfway through setting up my place to sleep in her day-bed, the telephone rings. El gets up to answer it, and even though I hear her talking in a low voice, I can't tell what she's saying. She sounds almost afraid, like something bad's happened.

"Who was that, El?" I ask when she comes back.

"A friend of mine," she says, running one hand over her face and looking tired. "His name's Hank."

"Hank?" I repeat, trying to remember if she'd ever mentioned him.

"Yeah. Apparently he's got big news, and he wants me to be the first to know."

"Is he coming over here?"

"Yeah, in about twenty minutes. We should watch the fire escape, he said."

≈

Hank stays true to his word. Twenty minutes after the phone call, there's a sharp rapping on El's bedroom window. Outside is a lanky boy, only a year or two younger than we are, with bright blue eyes and snow caught in his unruly curls. El jumps up and opens it, and he tumbles inside in a heap.

"Hank, Ken knows who you are," El says in a mildly chiding tone as she helps him up. "He'd let you in the front if you just asked."

"Yeah, but..." Hank nervously rubs the legs of his battered jeans, his eyes landing on me. I see something bright and silver flash across them. "Who's that?"

"Raina Hardy," I say quickly, before his distrust gets a chance to form. "I'm El's roommate at school."

"Hey," he says, but his skittish manner doesn't disappear. "Listen, El, I don't have much time, but..."

"Sit down, Hank, before you collapse," El says, pulling her desk chair out with a foot. "Catch your breath. I'll get you some water."

He does, his knees easily giving way. I try not to look at him, because he looks uncomfortable. But I hear him shifting in his chair and his harsh breathing. El comes back before it can get too awkward, handing Hank a glass. He takes it and drinks it down in ten seconds flat.

"So what's the emergency, Hank?" El asks, sitting on the bed next to me.

"I didn't know who else to tell," he says, kicking the heels of his ragged sneakers against the legs of the chair. "I think I might have superpowers."

"Superpowers? Like what kind?" El's voice is surprised, and I feel her tense.

"Well...I can do this," he says, before spreading his hands wide, palms facing. A thin ray of bright blue light forms, fizzling and sparking with electricity. "I can throw 'em too."

"Wow," El says, looking at me in an almost knowing way, although I don't know how she'd know about Geoff. Maybe I'm just imagining it.

"And this too," he says as the blue light disappears. He snaps his fingers, and my limbs lock up just as a blanket of silence falls. El's frozen next to me, her mouth slightly open like she's about to speak. He snaps again, and everything goes back to normal.

"You just stopped time," I say without thinking. "That's crazy."

"That was my first thought too." Hank shrugs his narrow shoulders, obscured by the lumpy coat that looks too big for him. "I can fly too, isn't that weird?"

"So you're a super," El says, when she's gotten over the shock. "What're you going to do now?"

Hank shrugs again. "There's someone I can go to, but I'm a little scared of going by myself."

"Who is it?" I ask, thankful for this distraction.

"He calls himself the Barracuda. He lives uptown, in Harlem. Retired, mostly...but I think he'd know what to do."

"I'd be scared to go by myself too, with a name like that," El says, more to herself than us. Then to Hank, she says, "When were you planning to go?"

"Tomorrow, actually." Hank runs one hand over his hair, messing up his curls. "But El, I don't want you to have to—"

She waves him off. "Don't worry about it, Hank. Safety in numbers. And you're my best friend. I wouldn't leave you out in the cold like that."

"Okay," he says, giving me an uncertain look.

"Raina can handle it," El says with a shrug, glancing over at me. "Can't you?"

"Sure," I answer quickly, before I can back out. I've had to hit before, but not in a rough neighborhood in New York City. And definitely not someone who may or may not have superpowers, retired or not.

"Okay," Hank says again, finally wobbling to his feet. "Meet you at 125th Street station say...one?"

"Sounds good." El suddenly stiffens, as the sound of keys rattling and a door opening comes to us. "My parents are home. You should go."

Hank nods to both of us, and disappears out the window. I glance over at El, who's looking a little nauseated now that he's gone.

"You really want to do this?"

"I guess we don't really have a choice now, do we?" she says, through a heavy sigh. "C'mon. My parents are looking forward to meeting you."

El's parents are nothing like Geoff's dad. They're well-dressed, wealthy, polished, and completely put-together. But they're genuinely happy to meet me, giving me the sense that I could tell them the truth about myself without being judged. Especially her mom, Kim. She's tall, slim, and dark-haired like her daughter, with a touch of a foreign accent in her voice. It makes me wish she was my mom instead.

"I was thinking we'd go out tonight," says her dad, Allen, after he's greeted his daughter and me. Tall, handsome, youthful face even though he's probably forty. "Just in the spirit of the holiday season."

"Allen..." Kim sighs. "The girls must be tired, they only just got in. We can go out later."

"No, Mom, it's fine," El says quickly. I wonder if she doesn't want to rouse suspicion by insisting we stay in. "Where were you thinking, Dad?"

"There's a French place in the Gramercy-Flatiron area that I really want to try." He shrugs, tugging at his necktie in a self-conscious manner. "Unless you girls have another idea..."

"Sounds great, Dad," El says, and I nod agreement.

Kim says nothing, outvoted. But I catch her expression right as El suddenly thinks of something and tugs me out of the room.

I get this all the time.

≈

Dinner is nice, if a little quiet, although it seems like both El's parents drink a little too much wine. Her mom even falls asleep on the drive home. Which is fine by me. At least they aren't the angry, raging drunks like my parents.

"That's good, because at least they won't see us leaving tomorrow," El tells me while we get ready for bed. "Wine really knocks them out."

"Evidently," I say, although my mind's somewhere else already. I keep thinking about Hank's expression. He seemed almost afraid of the fact that he has superpowers. Nothing like Geoff, who seemed to accept it, or Ridley — if our suspicions were correct — who wanted nothing else but the chance to flaunt them, or abuse them. It was, to say the least, a little off-putting. At least if El was around, we could get through all of this super stuff together, and we wouldn't have to keep any more secrets.

We leave sometime around ten-thirty the next morning, so El can take me on a sort of sightseeing trip before we have to meet Hank. Downtown is decorated for Christmas, and practically every storefront window display is holiday-themed. Some places even have music playing on speakers outside.

"Is every Christmas like this here?" I ask, already feeling inklings of the Christmas spirit creeping in on me.

"More or less," El says, blowing her cheeks out and expelling a white cloud. "Dad says I should feel special, but..."

"But?" I wonder what she could possibly be unhappy about.

"I know there's people suffering," she says finally, after a long silence. "They have less than us. So I cringe when I hear Dad say we need more things."

"You aren't saying that because you know I'm poor, are you?" I say it without even thinking, and El stops in her tracks, looking shocked.

"No, of course not, Rains!" She takes both my shoulders, squeezing them gently. "Rich or poor, you're still my best friend. And don't worry, thick or thin, I'll always be here for you."

"Thanks, El." And I mean it.

≈

Sure enough, Hank is waiting for us when we get off at the 125th Street station, dressed in a battered brown leather jacket over a frayed sweatshirt and cargo pants. He has a knit cap over his hair, and if he didn't wave at us when we get off, I probably would have missed him.

"Hey, Hank," El says when we join him. "How are things?"

He hunches his shoulders. "Cold."

"Same here," El says with a glance over at me. "Ready to go, Rains?"

I nod. "Might as well get it over with."

We follow Hank at a brisk pace down the street, El keeping me close. The way some of the people are looking at us when we pass them makes me a little uncomfortable. We stop at a dilapidated apartment building on 135th Street, and finally Hank hesitates.

"You okay, Hank?" El asks, sounding concerned.

"I've only talked to this guy over the phone," he says with a shrug. "Don't know how he feels about visitors."

"Well, at least we're all here together, in case something happens." El sounds confident, but I can tell she's just as hesitant as I am about this. "Let's go. I'm sure he'll understand when you explain the situation to him."

We follow Hank again, this time up the dim dingy stairwell. I hear music thumping from somewhere, dogs barking, snatches of conversation, and the smell of marijuana leaking out from under a couple doors. El keeps casting me uncertain looks, like she's unsure of whether this is a good idea. Not for the first time I notice how out of place she is here, in her expensive-looking coat and boots, carrying a purse that must have been at least eight-hundred bucks. Or more, judging by the conversation we just had.

"Here he is," Hank says after six flights, stopping at a chipped green door marked 6B. He knocks a couple times, and for a second, there's no sound from inside.

Then, from inside, a gravelly voice says, "Yeah?"

"Uh...I was told I could find the Barracuda here?" Hank calls back. "We spoke on the phone. Hank Graham."

A grunt, and then the door opens a crack. Above the chain, I see a bright blue eye appear. "Hank, huh? Who're these two?"

"My name's Ellen, Mr. Barracuda," El says. "And this is my friend Raina. We're Hank's moral support."

There's a wheezing noise, and it takes me a second to realize it's the Barracuda laughing. "I like this girl, Hank. Moral support. That's a good one."

El flushes, but says nothing as the door closes and the chain scrapes backward. Then the door opens, and we're faced with the biggest black guy I've ever seen. He'd look completely normal if it weren't for his eyes, one a bright blue and the other an unusual shade of yellow.

Hank opens his mouth, like he's about to say something, but nothing comes out.

"Just tell him what you told me," El finally says, when we've all gotten over the surprise.

Hank nods, and then stammers out his list of superpowers. He finishes it by asking the Barracuda if he thinks he'd be able to help, and then trails off.

"Don't usually take mentees, but I'll think about it," the Barracuda says after a second. "How'd you find out about me anyway, kid?"

"I know someone who says she knows you. Ulla Breiner?"

The Barracuda nods when he hears her name. "Yeah. She's a good kid. 'Specially for somebody who's only lived here for a few years. Wicked superpowers too."

"So will you do it? Will you help me?" Hank seems almost eager, now that he knows they have a common acquaintance.

"Like I said, I'll think about it. An' I'll take the fact that you know Ulla into consideration." He winks. "Y'know, you might want to consider asking your moral support out on a real date."

Then he's gone again. Hank's ears turn bright red, and El's scowling at the back of his head.

"He thought we were dating?" she says, clearly irritated. "The nerve of that guy, really."

Hank says nothing, but his silence confirms what I already suspected. I don't say anything about it, though, because I don't want to embarrass them any more than they already have been.

"Maybe he just liked the way you two looked together," I say instead.

"Don't you start." El rolls her eyes.