DURING HOMEROOM, I signed up for the dance preparation committee so I could live up to what I told Mom I was doing. I even convinced Ben to join it with me. He was surprised, but he agreed.

After the bore that was math, I was hyper all throughout gym, and Ben didn't refrain from telling me so. I refused to look at the rope and spent most of the time doing drills with him and a few other kids. With every sit-up, I glanced at Dana. She hadn't waited by the locker room door for the snarky remark of the day. She hadn't looked at me at all. Maybe she'd finally decided to leave me alone.

Things were looking up.

Ben and I found ourselves back in the gym during lunch for the first prep committee meeting. Fei was here, too, sitting next to me. She twirled her hair around her finger, looking down at her lap instead of up, but I knew she was listening intently.

I leaned over and whispered, "How long is this?"

"Until the bell," she murmured.

I straightened in my chair; the guy sitting in front of me was blocking my view. I could hear the head of the committee talking, but no matter what configuration I put myself in, even going so far as to lean into Ben, I couldn't see her. I finally gave up and slouched, fiddling with my sleeves.

The head of the committee was our class president, Kelsey. She explained the decorations and the chaperones and the food and the fundraising, all of which would be finished by next Friday afternoon, a few hours before the dance. I nodded absentmindedly, listening but zoning out at the same time. I had every intention to do my part, but I was more focused on the clock, something I could actually see, than on the words coming out of her mouth.

The bell rang, and the rest of my classes flew by. I was on my knees at my locker at the end of the day, packing for home as people filed out to the buses.

"Do we need our history book to do the homework?" Ben asked, standing next to me with his arm in his locker.

I nodded and grabbed mine, resorting to holding it because it wouldn't fit in my backpack. I moved my locker door a little and saw Dana's face. "Hi Dana," I said blankly.

She immediately froze, lips pressing into a thin line, eyes narrowing just a tiny bit. Then she blew her blonde hair out of her face and slammed her door as she got up and left.

She was still rude, but she hadn't yelled at me for daring to speak to her.

Ben slapped my shoulder when I stood up. "Why did you say hi?" he asked as we walked down the hallway toward the front door. "You don't poke a sleeping bear!"

"Relax." I understood what he meant, but I wanted to see what she would do. "I think she's done with us."

Ben considered that for a moment. "I think she's scared you'll rat her out for making you fall."

At the mention of the fall, I shook my head. "I don't care about that."

I wanted people to forget about it. I wanted Ben to forget about it, but I knew he wouldn't. At least he hadn't brought up my little post-fall episode; I wanted to smooth over that little bump.

Speaking of bumps, that infernal mosquito bite finally healed. Now it was just a tiny red dot on my neck that even I had a hard time seeing.

I realized too late that I wasn't supposed to be walking with Ben. We were already outside, and my bus was right there. He would notice if I went into the awaiting black car instead.

"I'm gonna walk home," I said, inwardly cringing. Sure, I walked home often, but I never announced it out loud like this.

He shrugged and went to his bus. I glanced at Kavanagh's car as I walked right past it, hoping the agent understood what I was doing. I headed toward home, knowing that Ben could be watching me from his seat window. Anyone could be watching, actually, and I shouldn't have gotten into Kavanagh's car right away yesterday.

I kept walking until I was a few streets away from the school, out of view, and I turned to see Kavanagh's car slide into the street parking near me. I got in quickly, closing the door behind me as he pulled back onto the road.

"I thought you were ditching me," Kavanagh said. His tone was light and it was a clear attempt at humor, but it failed miserably because he was looking straight ahead and hadn't said it with a smile.

He was trying to make me a little more comfortable around him, and I appreciated the effort enough to force a laugh. I stuffed my backpack between my feet and kept the history textbook in my lap. As he drove, I calculated how much homework I had tonight. Normally, if I didn't go to sleep by nine, I would be tired the day after, but the past few days were...different. It seemed that the serum had given me some strange ability to feel less tired, but I wasn't too keen on skipping a whole night of sleep.

Thankfully, I didn't have much due tomorrow, so I could let Jenny take all the time she wanted with the rest of her tests. I drummed my fingers along the book, and then I remembered something. "I have a question."

"Fire away."

"Why did that guy throw the needle at me?"

"I thought Ms. Henderson already answered that."

I shifted in my seat so I was angled toward him. "She guessed that he threw it at me in a moment of desperation when I was about to call for help," I said, "but why would you throw a super serum at someone? It was probably the most valuable thing he stole."

"We caught that guy, actually," Kavanagh said. "Interrogation's done. He didn't know what was in the syringe. He was hoping it was some chemical that would kill you or at least incapacitate you so you couldn't call the cops."

"Kill me?" I repeated. I saved that man's life, and he was hoping to murder me?

We were at a red light, and Kavanagh looked at me. "Don't worry," he said calmly, "he's in prison now. No one besides me, Jenny, and Ms. Henderson know that you were injected, so you have nothing to worry about."

I noticed that he said the word "worry" twice. Should I be worried?

I watched the buildings pass by through the window, both of us sitting in silence until I gathered enough courage to break it. "Do you approve of this?" I asked quietly. "Of this superhero stuff?"

Kavanagh didn't answer for a long time, and I thought he wasn't going to respond until he finally exhaled. "I didn't think it would work," he admitted. "I was proven wrong, but I'm still little bit concerned that we're asking a sixteen year old kid to be a superhero."

"So you don't trust me?"

He shook his head. "This isn't about trust," he muttered. "Have you considered how drastically your life is going to change?"

"I have considered it," I argued. That's all I'd been able to think about for the past few hours, about the lies I'd have to tell Mom and Ben, about school and the superhero life, and I hadn't even started yet. "I know I'll have a lot to handle, but I want to do this."

He took a sharp turn, and I was pressed against the door. For a moment, I was worried he was getting annoyed, but Kavanagh was as calm as ever. It was just a regular turn. A sharp turn, but a regular one.

The next turn, however, wasn't regular.

An alarm started blaring from a convenience store we were passing by. The car next to us swerved into our lane to keep from hitting people who spilled out from the store and into the road, resulting in Kavanagh having to swerve to avoid hitting that car. We braked in the middle of the yellow line, and the traffic in both directions screeched to a stop.

My seatbelt dug into my collarbone as I twisted around in my seat to look at the convenience store. The window was smashed, and the people who had run out were calling the police. As far as I could tell, a robbery had just occurred.

"Wait on the sidewalk," Kavanagh said as he got out.

I opened the door and got out, standing by with my history book in my hands as everyone waited for the police to arrive. What happened next was what I would later characterize as the start of my superhero career.

The robber ran out of the store holding a machete and a handful of cash, and people shrieked and scampered away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Kavanagh was approaching, hand at his side, about to draw his weapon, but every cell in my body screamed at me to do something immediately.

Aim was never something I'd prided myself in, but I flung my textbook at the man's legs, frisbee-style. It slammed into the backs of his knees, and he fell forward, face-planting on the ground at the exact moment the cop cars pulled around. By the time he managed to stand, wincing, the cops were tackling him and wrenching the machete out of his grip.

I simply stood there, shocked by what I'd done. People were too frazzled to have noticed—I heard some whispering, did someone throw a book? Who was it? But the police ushered everyone aside, and no one but Kavanagh saw it well enough to be certain.

After talking with an officer, Kavanagh picked up my textbook and approached me as he dusted it off.

I swallowed. "Should I not have done that?"

Kavanagh didn't answer the question and tapped the cover. "You know, it's not normal to be able to throw a four-pound textbook hard enough to knock a grown man over." He paused. "You're stronger than you look."

I blinked. It sounded like a backhanded compliment, and I didn't know whether to be offended or proud, and then I understood.

Oh.

"You think I have super strength?" I asked in a low voice.

Kavanagh shrugged. "Possibly." He handed the book back to me. "Why don't we go and find out?"

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