"Del, do you mind helping set the table?" My mom calls up to me as I sit in my room.

I don't respond, I just walk down the steps to the kitchen. Why does the table need to be set? We usually eat dinner in the living room on tv dinner trays.

"Who's coming over?" I begin to grab plates from the cabinet beside mom.

"Your boyfriend and his family."

I almost drop the plates stacked in my hands. Quickly I set them down to walk over to her side.

"What? I've never even met his parents before and you expect me to have dinner with them? What are we having?"

"Spaghetti." She sighs, exasperated with my tantrum.

"No! Gosh, that's like, the messiest thing we could be having!"

"Did you set up the table yet?" She huffs. Staring her down, I follow her orders and open the drawer with silverware.

"How many?" I finally break eye contact with her.

"Us four plus their three." I take a hanful of knives, spoons, and forks over to the table. Then I storm up to my room to call Mickey.

"Hey Del." He's way too chipper. Not for long.

"Did you forget something?" I grit my teeth.

"Um... No? It's not your birthday or our anniversary... Right?"

I'm fuming, "Dinner, Nick, dinner."

He mumbles something under his breath. He knows that once I've used his real name he's in deep trouble.

"I'm sorry, babe, I just found out about it yesterday. I forgot to tell you."

My foot taps repeatedly against the floor. Why wouldn't he have called me right away? It wouldn't be a big deal if I had met his parents previously. Now I get to meet them but my highly embarrassing parents will be by my side?

"Thanks for thinking about me." I scoff.

Now I can hear the anger in his voice, "Della, I'm sorry, but I came straight in from basketball practice, they told me about dinner plans, and I fell asleep."

He could've told me at school today. He doesn't have practice on Fridays and we went to McDonalds right after school today.

Besides, I was tired yesterday too. I had gotten a pretty good beating from Red Raven. Bruises and cuts covered my face, and let me tell you, they were not easy to cover up. Sophia Brown was more than willing to tell me I looked like I had too much makeup on. She called me a clown for the rest of AP bio.

"Whatever. I'll see you tonight I guess." I hang up, more annoyed now than ever.

A text from Ash makes me jump for joy, though. Our super suits are ready. Jonas is in the group thread, too, and he says he'll be over at her house tonight to pick it up. I hold back a squeal of delight.

After I've tossed my phone onto my bed, I rummage through my closet to find something decent to wear. By decent, I mean something that will impress Mickey's parents, but kept age appropriate. I don't want to look like a 14 year old, why do I still have this dress? Oh my, that dress is much too scandalous, when and why did I buy that?

"Hey, Mason?" I call out to him through the wall.

"What?" Even through a sheet rock wall I can hear the arrogant tone of his voice.

"What time is dinner?" I reply.

"Seven." I have an hour until Mickey and his parents show up. As much as I hate this last minute ordeal, I have to make the best of it.

That means not only finding a perfect dress, but also making sure I don't look like a clown at dinner. It's time to start over with my makeup.

After a 10 minute video on how to subtly cover bruises with makeup, I dig through my closet again. I stumble upon the perfect dress for the occasion. It's not white, so it won't show stains. It's navy blue with half sleeves. The sleeves and the end of the dress have lace around the bottom. Now for shoes.

I find a pair of flats that have lace bows on them with dark blue and cream colored stripes. Thank goodness I don't have to hunt for cute clothes on a daily basis. This was excruciatingly painful.

The doorbell rings. I cringe at the sight of my hair. I didn't straighten or curl it. My hair isn't the type that looks pretty in its natural form, but it'll have to do.

Mason opens the door to his room at the same time I do. It's nice to see him dressed up for a change. He usually roams around the house in sweats.

"You own a pair of nice jeans?" I ask him.

He snorts, "You own a dress?"

"Touche." I begin to walk down the steps to the kitchen, Mason behind me. I'm halfway to the kitchen when I hear my dad ask, "What are your plans with my daughter?"

I trip on the second to last step. Mason laughs at me as I lie on the floor. Then Mickey peaks his head around the corner of the kitchen wall to see what all the commotion is about. Before Mickey can help me up, Mason shocks me by giving me a hand.

Mickey rushes to my side, looking back to make sure the adults don't follow him. His hand snakes around my waist and I feel my cheeks heat up. No makeup can hide my blush.

"Are you okay?" He whispers in my ear as we head into the kitchen. I nod my head, hoping I don't look like a tomato by the time I meet his parents.

His mother is lovely. Mrs. Michaels passed her emerald eyes onto Mickey and his dad gave his dark brown hair. Other than that, I hardly see any facial resemblance between Mickey and his parents.

"Hello, you must be Della." His mom is the first to shake my hand with a warm smile. My parents have already sat down and Mason takes his designated spot next to dad. Mom's short auburn hair is tied behind her, something she only does when she's been cooking.

We begin to fill in the chairs and Mickey makes sure to sit beside me. His hand rests on top of my hand, placed on my knee. My heart is beating a thousand times a minute.

"Della, Mickey has told us so much about you. You used to play soccer, I heard." Mr. Michaels interrogates me.

"Oh, uh, yes, but I stopped after sophomore year. Not enough girls to make a team." I twirl my fork around the plate, but I don't think I'll be eating much tonight.

"That's a shame. You know, Mickey plans to go to Stanford on a basketball scholarship." So I had heard. What his parents failed to mention was that Mickey didn't want to go to Stanford.

"That's a great school!" My dad bellows. Oh, dad, for crying out loud, please don't say anything else tonight.

Mickey's hand tightens around mine. Anxiety floods through my veins just sitting at the table.

Mason looks to mom and mouths "Can I be excused?" I don't blame him. If I could, I'd eat and go back upstairs. Though this dinner seems to revolve around Mickey and I.

"It's where I attended school." Mr. Michaels interjects.

"Well, that makes you all the more qualified for the position!" My mother exclaims.

Wait, come again? What position?

Mr. Michaels laughs and folds his hands together on top of the table.

"Well I'm glad that puts me at the top of the list. Mrs. Abram, I'd love the position as vice president. I'm very dedicated to the corporation."

She nods her head, "Yes, indeed. I've interviewed several people now, but you seem to fit the bill. Congratulations, Mr. Michaels. Welcome aboard." They stand to shake hands across the table.

All this time I forgot I had met Mickey at a corporate Christmas party months ago. Both bored teenagers, we decided to hang out and figured out we went to the same high school. Of course, I already knew who Mickey was. It was hard ignoring his presence in school.

Now my mom, president of Abram Corporations, was hiring his dad as VP? I guess tonight wasn't what I thought it was going to be.

"Can Della and I be excused as well?" Mickey asks. I look to him and he squeezes my hand. Thank you, I think to myself.

Mom nods for us to leave, and Mickey guides me out to the front porch, out of sight of the kitchen window.

"What just happened in there?" I start, but I'm abruptly silenced as Mickey's lips crash down on mine. His hands are placed on my waist and my hands come up to entertwine in his hair. I disregard my anger at him from an hour ago.

He breaks away first, and rubs his thumbs over my cheeks. No, I think. He can't uncover my bruises. I wince at the pain of his touch on the bruise under my eye. His eyes light up in curiosity.

"Are you okay?" He pulls his hand back, and I feel relief flood over me.

"Yeah, just some bruises." I clear my throat.

Mickey's green eyes glow in the dark, making me melt just by looking into them.

"Red Raven did this?" His voice is barely a whisper.

I bite my lip, "Well, yes, but, I'm okay."

Mickey leads me to the porch swing. I promise myself not to fall asleep again. That was utterly humiliating, drooling on myself. Slipping off my shoes, I tuck my feet underneath me.

"I don't like to see you hurt." Mickey's hand finds mine in the dark.

"It's part of the job description. Plus, he's locked away for now."

"For now? Della, you need to lock him away for good."

Mickey's sudden fire makes me inch away. "I'm trying my best. There's still so much I'm trying to figure out." I find myself trying to convince him I'm okay. But I'm also trying to convince myself.

A vibration in my dress pocket startles me and I reach for my phone. Ash has texted Jonas and myself.

Ash: Red Raven has broken out of jail again. The news says he's vandalizing some surrounding cities...but that's not what our chip says.

Jonas: Well what does the chip say?

Ash: He's on Fourth street. I'll get an address.

There's no need. I know who lives on Fourth street.

A/N
The video above is from the amazing Disney movie Lemonade Mouth. The song's lyrics really relate to what Della goes through to be a superhero. (P.S- Skip to 2:24 to hear song.)

More to come! Happy New Years!

Thanks for reading,
Always, Sunny