Just Super

I’m mostly cried out by the time I hear a knock on the guestroom door.

It took me three trips to get all my stuff here, but that was only a couple of minutes of work. Since then I’ve been alternating between doom scrolling on other Earth’s internet and trying to figure out what I could have done differently to make Mom understand. 

Maybe if I’d agreed to pretend to be a boy at home, she wouldn’t have kicked me out. It would have been hard, but she’d have to see how miserable it made me and come around. Wouldn’t she?

The knocking repeats. 

“Frank? You okay in there?” Emily asks.

“Come on in.”

The door swings open.

“Do you want to come down and meet my moms?”

The idea of meeting new people right now is physically painful.

“Um, sure. Just a sec.”

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The makeup I was so proud of myself for earlier is now an utter mess. I can’t quite manage ‘not having been crying’ but I can imagine not having put the makeup on at all. I do that and flicker.

Boring, but better.

“You don’t have to. You can wait until morning.”

I’m pretty sure that would be really rude. This is their house; I should at least meet them.

“It’s okay.”

I follow Emily down the stairs.

Emily’s moms are great. They were very welcoming and sympathetic, without acting like I’m broken. For a second I wonder why Emily didn’t mention that one of them is trans, but really, there was no reason for her to.

They also didn’t try to keep me downstairs being social. They introduced themselves, told me I was welcome in their house, and backed off. I came back upstairs almost immediately.

Now it’s ten thirty, I’m wearing pajamas, and I’m sitting on the bed in the guest room, finishing up the story of my side trip on my way home. I’m exhausted and don’t feel like telling this story right now, but it’s better than being left alone with my thoughts.

“If you ever end up back in that world again, see if you can get me there with you. I want to have a word with that Darius guy.” Emily says. She’s sitting in a huge recliner a few feet from the bed.

“Probably not a good idea. He does more damage than a sniper rifle.”

“Let me worry about that.”

I finish up the story with a big yawn.

“You should sleep,” Emily says.

She’s right. 

“No, I want to hear about you getting back.”

“I stepped through the portal. I was back. I got worried because you weren’t there and Tiara sent a magic probe through the portal. She said you weren’t in that world anymore, and closed the portal before…”

“Before what?”

She stands up from the chair and shakes her head. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

I wish. I know that the moment she leaves, that last confrontation with Mom is going to loop in my head. I can see the loathing on her face when she—

“You okay?” Emily interrupts the loop.

I shrug.

“I guess that’s a stupid question,” she says. “Would you like me to stay a little longer?”

This is so embarrassing, but I nod.

She sits back down, and I collapse backward onto the bed and pull a pillow over my face.

There’s a quiet thump and I move the pillow to look. The recliner is now right next to the bed, with Emily still in it. She gives me her half smile. I cover my head again.

It’s dark, and I have no idea where I am. I suppress my instinct to flicker away long enough for me to remember that I’m in Emily’s guest room. I’m under a blanket I don’t remember getting under, and my arm is in an awkward position. When I go to shift it, my hand brushes something warm.

Emily is stretched out in the recliner, with her hand just touching mine. I close my eyes.

The next time I wake up, there’s light streaming in the window, and Emily is gone. The recliner is back on the other side of the room. There’s a note scribbled on a post-it on the bedside table: “Brunch is at 10:30. Come down whenever you’re ready—Em.”

According to my otherPhone, it’s ten til ten. I dig through my stacks of clothes for something to wear. Ugh. I don’t want to put them in the dresser here because I won’t be staying that long, but I hate the mess.

I settle on my Wednesday Addams dress. It seems suitable for a Sunday morning. I don’t put it on yet, though. Instead, I leave the room and walk halfway down the stairs, until I can see Emily in the kitchen, helping prepare food.

“Is it okay if I use your shower?” I call out.

“Of course!” Emily’s mom answers.

When Emily’s Mom Phoebe mentioned brunch last night, I’d said I could grab breakfast somewhere and stay out of the way. She insisted I join them, and assured me that having me there just meant less stuff would end up getting thrown away. 

I get done with my shower right as they’re serving up the meal. Today’s brunch is biscuits and gravy, a frittata, bacon, and fried apples at the end. I’ve never had fried apples before. They are so good that for a moment I forget my troubles. 

I volunteer to help with cleanup and end up standing at the sink next to June, Emily’s other mom, or mum. Emily calls one mom and one mum, but I haven’t got straight which is which yet.

“Emily has told us stories about you,” June says.

“Oh,” is all I can say at first, then, “I’m sorry.”

I hand her a plate to put in the dishwasher.

“For what?”

“‘For the crap I pulled, especially the stuff I pulled her into.”

“Like?”

She puts the last plate in the dishwasher and starts it.

I get the distinct impression that Emily has not, in fact, told her mothers much about my evil little schemes. Well, in for a penny…

“Okay, for example, there’s this guy named Louis. He’s strong, like throw cars around strong.”

I tell her about the various crap I’ve pulled. About baiting Louis. About the time I almost managed to start a fight between three of the more powerful energy projectors on the lawn in front of the school one day. It might have worked, if Emily hadn’t shown up and defused the situation.

When she asks, I give her details on a couple more incidents.

“Thank you. That’s a little more detail than Emily gave us,“ she says.

“I really am sorry for all of it.”

“I believe you. May I give you a little advice?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It’s obvious that you think a lot of my daughter.”

“Yeah. How could I not?”

“Emily’s a lot, I know, but when it comes down to it she’s still only human. Don’t put her on a pedestal. You’ll only hurt her and yourself by doing that.”

“I don’t—”

“Tell me a flaw she has,” she says, “I know it might be hard, since I’m her mum, but think of it as constructive criticism. I promise I won’t be offended on her behalf, or mine.”

“Well, she . . .” I trail off. 

I think for a moment.

“It’s not that I don’t think she has any flaws,” I say, “I just can’t think of any right now.”

“You should work on that. She has plenty of flaws just like anyone else. If the two of you want to be part of each other’s life, it’s important that you see them.”

I feel my cheeks heat up.

“It’s not like that,” I stammer, “she’s just helping me out because that’s what she does.”

“Are you in danger?”

“No.”

“Were you in danger last night?”

“Not really—not in danger.”

“Think about what I’ve said.”

I finish wiping down the counter and hang the cloth over the sink.

“And thanks for cleanup help.”

Emily’s neighborhood is very different from what I’m used to. It’s a bunch of separate houses with big yards, and so many old trees. We walk in silence at first, on our way to the nearby park.

I look at her as we walk. Why is she helping me? I’m afraid to ask. I know the answer I want, but I don’t believe I’ll get it. I guess it’s better to know.

“Why are you helping me?”

She takes a breath, opens her mouth to speak, then shuts it again. We keep walking. I can tell she’s not ignoring me. Apparently it’s a harder question than I thought it was. She still hasn’t answered when we reach the park.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she takes a few steps to a nearby bench and sits. I take the other end of the bench.

“Yeah.”

I’m not sure I believe her, but I let it go. I can’t stand the suspense, so I change the subject to something else I’ve been thinking about.

“You know how you were angry at yourself for getting me involved in the shooting?”

“Of course. I’m still sor—”

“Don’t apologize. Would anything whatsoever have been better, or be better if I hadn’t tagged along?”

She looks doubtful, but doesn’t answer right away.

“Unless I’m the reason you got shot—”

“You aren’t!” She stands up in agitation.

I stand up, too.

“—it’s a good thing I was there.” I’m saying this for her benefit, but as I say it, it sinks in. I really did help people. I didn’t stop the guy, but because I was there, nobody died. Even if Emily hadn’t recovered—and that thought makes my gut clench—the police were almost there. I did a good thing. Me.

“I know, but—”

“No ‘but.’ I get that you need to protect people. I do. But, maybe you can be okay with getting a little help now and then? Even if it is from an asshole?”

We make eye contact for a moment. I can tell that a lot is going on in her head. Once again, I don’t want to look away.

“You are so annoying,” she says.

“It’s what I do. You protect people. I annoy them.”

She rolls her eyes. I’m half relieved and half disappointed at the break in eye contact.

“You’ve got to admit, I’m very good at it,” I continue.

“You want to know what pisses me off the most about you?”

“Sure?” 

She sits back down and looks away from me before quietly saying,“I like you.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Otherwise you wouldn’t have such a shocked look on your face.”

“I—”

“You asked me why I was helping you. There’s your answer.”

I sit back down abruptly. I don't notice that I’ve stepped away from my seat until it’s almost too late. I flicker onto the bench just before my ass would have hit the ground. Emily snort-laughs, then turns serious again.

“Do you have any idea how annoying it is to like someone who hates you? Who thinks of you as their enemy? It’s not fun,” she says.

“But, why? How?”

“I told you, I started watching you to make sure no one got hurt. But it turns out you're interesting. You were an asshole, but, as weird as it sounds, a respectful asshole. And you’re loyal. I know that at least one of the times you ended up in ISS, you were covering for your henchmen.”

“They prefer ‘henchpeople.’”

“And you think you’re funny, which is sort of cute.”

“Hey…”

“This is the part where you laugh at me. Tell me what a loser I am for liking you. Tell me that you still hate me.”

I don’t understand how she can like me.

“I don’t hate you. I don’t think I ever really did. And I’m not going to make fun of you for liking me. But I don’t get it. How is that stuff you said enough? After everything I’ve done?”

“What? Like risking your life to save people, twice? Sticking by me to make sure I got home safely, even when you weren’t going to come? Going to the principal and admitting everything, when they probably couldn’t have proven anything?

“But I assume you mean before all that. I know you did a lot of crappy things—some of them worse than others. But you know what? I liked you anyway. It doesn’t have to make sense, and I don’t have to justify it.”

I stare at her. I know I should say something, but words won’t form.

“You don’t have to like me back. We can just be not-enemies. But I needed to tell you.”

I still have no idea what to say. Part of me wants to flicker away, but I won’t.

“Frank? Ugh. This was a terrible time to dump this on you. It’s just, you asked, and I didnt want to lie. I’m sorry. I’ll just—” She stands to leave.

“No! It’s good. You’re good. You’re great, actually. It’s just that this is out of nowhere, and…” I don’t know what comes next.

“Nowhere? I flew a thousand miles to see you last night.”

“You said it was only nine-hundred-eighty-three.”

She raises her eyebrow. That does not help my thought processes.

“Fine. So when you say like…”

“Frank, would you like to go to a movie with me,” Emily asks, carefully enunciating each word, “as a date?”

We can’t go on a date this evening. It's a school night, and I have an errand to run.

“Is Denise there?” I ask, “This is Frank.”

I’m standing in the lobby of her building. I can’t reach her by phone, since, even if I borrowed one, I can’t get to my contacts on my locked phone; this is the only way I can think to reach her. Okay, I could play creepy stalker chick at the park, but, no.

A couple seconds later, Denise’s voice comes over the speaker.

“Get up here, now!”

I oblige, and am sitting on the edge of her bed when she gets back to her bedroom from her living room.

“What’s going on? Are you okay? Why haven’t you been answering?”

The questions come tumbling out of her.

I tell her about yesterday. I’ve managed to avoid processing a lot of it all day, and now all the emotions come pouring out. I have to pause the story at one point when she goes out of her room to get more tissues.

“So, that was my Saturday,” I say, once I’ve wrapped up, “How was yours?”

“What are you going to do?” Denise asks, “Where will you stay?”

“I should be able to get at my contacts tomorrow, on a school computer. I think my aunt and uncle will let me stay at their place. If not, well, It’s not all that unusual for marked kids to get kicked out, so The School has a program. They should be able to find me a place.”

“You could stay here a night or two if you need to. I’m sure Mom and Dad would be okay with it.”

“Thank you.”

“How is it staying over at Emily’s?”

I shake my head. “Her moms are great, a little weird, but great. We haven’t had any conflicts.”

“How are things between you and Emily?”

“Umm, she asked me out?”

“What? Tell me everything!”

I don’t tell her quite everything, but I give her the big picture of our talk at the park.

“Oh thank god. I thought the whole useless lesbian thing was just a trope, but then you came along.”

“I think Emily is pan. And I wasn’t that useless.”

“She’s not the one I was calling useless. The girl flew 1000 miles to deliver you a freaking pizza, and you didn’t realize she was into you.”

“When you put it like that, it does make me sound a little clueless, but—”

“You know what, no. I’m not going to argue. I’m just going to be happy for you.”

“Thank you. It probably won’t come to anything,” I ignore her eye roll and continue, “but it’s better than being her enemy.”

“Whatever happens, I expect a full report, young lady.”

“You seem pretty interested in my potential romantic life, for someone who’s ace.”

“Ace/aro, and I feel like an anthropologist, you allos are fascinating.”

“Allo?”

“Allosexual or Alloromantic, the opposite of ace or aro.”

That makes sense.

“I”m not promising details, but I’ll keep you posted.”

She puts on a fake pout.

“Fine. I guess that’ll have to do.”

I look at my phone.

“I should get back. Her moms didn’t give me a curfew or anything, but they sorta hinted they’d like me back by nine. It’s a school night, after all.”

I pull her into a hug.

“Thank you,” I say.

She hugs me back.

“See you soon.”

I step back and flicker away.

In the guest room, my stuff is laid out in neat stacks. I take my jacket off and hang it on a hook on the back of the door. After a few deep breaths I open the door and step out into the upstairs hallway.

Emily’s room is on the way to the stairs, and this time when I pass it, her door is hanging open. It’s a disaster area—not dirty, just chaos. There are clothes hanging any place an item of clothing could reasonably hang, and several not so reasonable. A backpack lies open on the bed with its contents spilling out. The only clear space on the desk is a small mousepad.

Okay. I found a flaw. Good to know. That is, in fact, flaw number two. I thought of flaw number one earlier today. She’s terrible at asking for, or even accepting, help.

Right before I turn away, I see flaw number three. She has the entire Sunset series on her bookshelf. That’s it. I don’t need to find any more flaws. 

Downstairs, Emily and both her Moms are sitting in the living room reading. Emily is curled up in a big overstuffed chair, and her moms sit near each other, not quite touching. None of them look up as I came down the stairs.

“Hey,” Emily says, “How’s your friend?”

“She’s fine. She was a little freaked out because I’d asked her if she could talk, right before my mom killed my phone. She was worried enough that she almost went over to my apartment. That would not have gone well.”

Emily looks up at that.

“We were friends when we were little. Then I came home once with some makeup left on, and was forbidden from staying at her place or inviting her to ours.”

Emily cocks her head, waiting for me to say more.

I plop down crossways onto the chair across from her.

“Apparently we used to do that a lot, but I blocked it out. After I ran into her at the park a few weeks ago, she was helping me with my makeup and brought it up. Suddenly I was remembering a bunch of stuff I would have sworn never happened.”

“That must have been weird,” Emily says, “and sort of disturbing?”

I nod.

“What did y’all do this evening?” Emily asks.

I think I hear one of her moms make a noise, but they both seemed to still be absorbed in their books.

“Mainly I just filled her in on what’s going on. She said she could ask her folks if I could stay there a couple of nights, if necessary.”

“Is that likely?” Phoebe asked. Apparently she’d been paying attention.

“I don’t think so. I can probably stay with my aunt and uncle, once I can reach them. If not, The School will help.”

She nods.

The conversation dies out, so I get out my otherPhone and flip through the app store again. Nothing really catches my eye. Most of the free apps come with ‘In App Purchases’ which seems to mean they're pretty much crap unless you pay extra money, and that isn’t an option for me.

I idly open the music app, then sit there with my mouth hanging open. There is so much music, and I haven’t heard any of it. No, that isn’t true. I do a quick search for the Beatles, and they’re there. Anything I check that’s early eighties or earlier (so, pre-invasion) seems to be there. But the stuff after—there’s so much. 

I want to listen to all of it, but I have no idea where to start.

Phoebe stands up from the sofa, and June follows suit.

“Don’t stay up too late, kids. It’s a school night.” one of them says.

“G’night, moms, love you,” Emily replies.

“Love you too,” both moms answer, almost in unison.

“Good night Emily’s moms,” I say. Calling them by their first names feels too weird, “and thank you again for letting me crash here.”

‘You’re welcome, sweetie,” Phoebe replies.

They disappear up the stairs.

I look back at the infinite array of music on my phone.

“Hey, Emily,” I say, “pick a word.”

She currently has her legs over the back of her chair, with her head hanging down in front.

“Why?”

“Good enough,” I say, and put ‘why’ into the search box. There are a lot of choices, named ‘Why,” but that seems a little on the nose. Then I see a playlist labeled ‘This is Why” I click it and toss one of the earbuds that Other Tiara bought us to Emily. She snags it out of the air and pops it into her ear.

“This is why,” I say, and click play.

An hour later, she’s put in one of her earbuds and tossed me the other one, and we’re taking turns playing songs for us both to listen to.

I notice the time, and hit stop on my phone.

“Ugh,” I say, “It’s late. I need to get to school first thing to deal with this crap, so I better get some sleep.”

“Hold on! I found the perfect song for you.”

The song starts off with “I hate the world today,” which is fair, but as it goes on I’m wondering why she picked, then the chorus kicks in “I’m a bitch…”

She laughs as I flip her off, then floats slightly off the chair and rotates in midair until she’s right side up. Show off.

I flicker to my feet.

By the time she hits the top of the stairs, I’m singing quietly along to the chorus. It’s catchy.

"Goodnight, Emily,” I say.

“Goodnight.”

The song ends as I lie down in bed, so I start another one, wondering if she’s still listening. I set my alarm, turn off the light, and close my eyes. When the song ends in my earbud, a new song starts up in my borrowed one.

Sometime later, I wake up with a different song playing in each ear. For a moment, I consider the funny options, assuming Emily still has my earbud in. But only for a moment. Instead, I lower the volume a click at a time, then stop the music.

The next thing I know, my alarm is going off.