CLAIRE

When I woke up the next morning, I had one mission, a goal: to discover what powers I actually had. After all, I knew I'd make a lousy superhero if I had no idea how to actually use what I have.

I stared across the room at my dresser and all of the little trinkets and stuff on top of it, wondering how I could repeat what I did when I somehow lifted the monorail in the air above me— not very high, and only for a second, but still.

How did I do it?

That was the question that plagued me as I turned my hands over and over in front of me, sitting with my legs crossed on my disheveled bed.

I remembered that I'd just pushed my hands out, as if would somehow had helped— and then the miracle happened, for it did.

I tentatively drew my hand back.

Am I really doing this?

I could see myself in my mind's eye, and I looked like a big dork. A bigger one than I was already.

Still, I pushed my hand out, as if I was shoving something.

A plastic picture frame went flying off the top of my dresser.

But this time, I saw something else to it— a faint silvery-blue wave of energy that emanated from my hand and dissipated quickly upon hitting the picture frame. It was so translucent, you could barely see it.

I'd missed it during the monorail accident, and luckily, so had everyone else in the chaos.

I then tried to conjure a bit of it into my hands— and there sat a ball of pure silvery-blue energy just there, glimmering softly, gently. It was beautiful and powerful and it was mine.

I flexed my fingers and moved my hands instinctively, growing and playing with the light— letting it grow and surround me, before letting go and allowing it to fizzle out.

After about an hour or so of just playing with my powers for the fun of pure self-discovery, an overwhelming feeling of fatigue washed over me. 

This is what Renegade was talking about, I realized as I sank back into my sheets. About the limits and it being weird.

For a few moments that felt like forever, my body felt unbearably heavy, like I couldn't even carry myself down to the kitchen to refuel up, or down an entire pot of coffee even. 

Well, that's going to be a problem if I'm going to be hero, I thought to myself. Maybe not the best career path for myself.

Still the feeling faded enough for me to get myself out of bed and downstairs. 

Holly's car was gone, as she had gone to her Sunday morning yoga class, and Dad was working at his computer. I just kinda nodded a good morning at him, and he nodded back and smiled before returning to the task at hand— whatever it was. 

I entered the kitchen, however, and saw Julien there, holding up the picture frame that Menlo had broken before I'd gotten downstairs.

"You know anything about this?" Julien asked.

Time to deflect while I think up a lie.

"I don't— except that it came from Dad's comic book room," I shot back. "What were you doing in there?"

His cheeks turned red. "That's not important— but it was broken when I came in, and it wasn't before Friday night—"

I raised an eyebrow. "So you've been in there more than once?"

Julien rolled his eyes. "Grow up, Claire, it's technically my mom's house, I can go where I want."

I just raised my eyebrows higher, letting the gesture speak for himself.

Julien sighed heavily. "I can't tell you why— but I need to know if someone else has been in there."

"Why's it your business?" I demanded. "Besides, it's just a broken picture frame— we can buy a new one at the grocery store and replace it, Dad'll never know the difference."

"I can't tell you that, either." Julien sighed. "Why were you in there?"

"I don't know, sounds like I can't tell you either— now excuse me, I need to get to the orange juice."

I had almost gotten a leftover burrito from the night before and a glass of orange juice I could take to return to my hideout in the attic when Julien spoke again.

"It's okay, I know what happened."

The gentle, more understanding tone, made me whirl around to see him watching me with sympathy.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded.

"I wouldn't blame you for wanting to look through the comic book stuff after developing your powers," he said. "That's actually pretty common."

I nearly dropped my burrito and the glass of orange juice. I could feel the blood leaving my face, leaving the cold of Montana snows behind them. 

"How did you know that?" I demanded, setting them down on the counter. My heart raced at the possibilities—

"It was only a matter of time, and the fact that you escaped the tram before the Sentinels showed up—"

"Could you see me on TV lifting the tram—-"

"No." Julien frowned. "Wait, which powers did you develop?"

I swallowed, hesitating. Was I really about to do this?

Guess so.

"I think some kind of telekinesis, with like, energy fields, it's kind of weird," I said.

"That's not what I thought happened." Julien shrugged. "Huh. You must have gotten your mother's powers, then."

It all clicked together in a second.

"Wait, you said it was a matter of time— Mom had superpowers— wait, Dad too—" My mind was spinning— or maybe that was the room.

I slid down the countertop until I was sitting on the kitchen floor.

Man I need to run the roomba through here, a detached part of my brain noticed, the one that kept running the sarcastic commentary in spite of literally everything.

"Oh my God," I kept repeating over and over again, although it didn't feel like my voice or my mouth was saying it. "Oh my God. Oh my God."

Julien crouched down next to me. "I figured you would have been going through the room for the cosplay costumes, but those don't make good hero costumes, and I wouldn't really recommend it anyway—"

"Wait— you wouldn't recommend it— are you Renegade?" I asked, harking back to what Renegade had told me the night before.

"What?" Julien scoffed. "No."

"But you were a super?" I tried to piece together the puzzles. "Were you a hero like Renegade?"

"No." His face darkened. "I was worse."

"Oh my God." I put my head in my hands. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"No." 

The way he said it, we both knew it was a lie. I couldn't face it, not now. No, I needed to bury this, stop digging, stop being so curious—

"Please don't tell Dad," I whispered. "I— I'll leave it all alone. I—"

"Look, that's between you and Brandon." Julien shrugged. "But I might be able to help you with more than you know— I can do some similar things to what your mom did."

I shook my head and managed to pull myself back up along the counter. I still clutched it for stability. "I just want to pretend this conversation never happened."

Julien looked as if he were going to argue, but then thought better of it. "That's your choice. Once you know, though, you can't run from it forever."

As much as I would try, I knew even then that his words were true. 

Still, I ran from the truth that day with a glass of orange juice and a cold breakfast burrito in my hands.