Blog of a Teenage Superhero

hill-fi “Human

， and the American way. You just need a pallet that

rled tree roots and the moon sinks low in the sponge of gray clouds. I skim my fingers over the dozen or so “N

the left ear of my heads

He“s so freaking delicate. It“s like I“

et. You know how I feel

Finn in general." Kai huffs

rky little emo brat， and

derpy kids. These are my best friends. Finn， seventeen， the guy with the

pervillain." Me， this time. "

tle cottage， with a front porch and a swinging tropical-print love seat. Vines climb up the yellow siding. The windows are boarded up with red shutters， the planter boxes filled with tiny white flow

collar， and knock on the fa

nce. I exhale a

nd fumble with the pencil tucked behind my ear. It makes me feel like one of the old reporters， the ones with “Press“ stuck in the bands

thick my dubstep g

to pry these shutters open an

zaps off. "You can“t just cut us

“t anyone taught you about s

er and step to the side， the porch creaking under my feet. "The mayor already

ou， too?" Finn“s voi

is is kind of stupid. Even

Dollar Shore and they follow my plans. Easy. "Yeah， well， if I end up in tiny sl

ath are frosted blue. I lift my camera. The room is average enough， luxury Americana， straight from the catalogs. There“s a chestnut coffee table with

is camera. I fished it out of a dumpster somewhere and it“s got a good， heavy feel in my han

hits me that maybe

ad， shards whipping out behind me. I duck， but not fast enough to avoid at leas

ng?" Finn. His voice i

back through the window， kicking and screaming. I grip the fingers and try

Locking in on your l

i， again. "Monet， answ

what“s going on. "Choki

ands up from the couch and sets his Coke on the table. The man gives me a hard appraising look as I scramble an

I never pegged him to be much of TMNT fan. "Or Ms. Jackson， I

ring a few questions? Or do you usually have supervillains attack your h

young voice. "Should I kill her o

Finn cooes at him in hushed， m

friends. They come here o

ars. "Really， sirs." My chest heaves. "I just wanted you to answer some questions， is all.

atty yawn. "The apple doesn“t fall far from the tree.

" I rise shakily to my feet. "

ng his cloak a rest for a hoodie. He“s still wearing his usual white mask， though， the one with the curved slits for eyes and a grin set into the bottom half. "Your

fists are trembling. "And wha

xte

fingers and wrap it across my knuckles. I touch my aching throat， tracing each swelling bruise on my neck. Then I sc

to worm free of his caging arms. My laces are already half-untied by the time I take off running down the hall. I race past the kitchen， and past the shut up doors. Th

t for a child. The walls are painted a soft shade of pink， a quilt drawn up over the bed. White furni

hroaty. I whip around， backed against the nylon drapes. My shaky fingers fumble with the locks on the bottom of the

s his salary slashed every year because the Journal can“t afford him. Or any of its employees， really. I“m not even on

necessary?

ad， I can give you a lead. That warehouse out back， there“s some bad stuff happening there." He lifts his mask up by the chin， just so I

I point my crowbar at his ch

me to death?" Another

hows in the surface， long and slender. Nothing for me to work with. Now， I could pry the window open. That“s a crowbar

be you don“t know the feeling of being held by someone who wants to hurt you and has all the crushing power of a locomotive. My stomach locks up， my voice pitches up into a perpetual cry， and

m the other room. "Let her go!" My heart sinks that much deeper

e?" Fi

e window on my knees with the last of my strength. My jeans tear. My shoulders

ists，" Masquerade says cool

. A little trick Lady Self-Defense taught me when Dad sat me in front of all those martial arts training Vhses so if someone tried to hurt

s time， I bash the window open with a few hard whacks. No wire screen. "Guys， guys， guys! Go! No

als down there." And sure enough， when I look down， the watershed is half-submerged in a milky swirl of red and

mind. The goo pulses and snaps， bubbles brewing o

If I drowned you， no one would know.

time to escape， time I have to buy them. I drop the crowbar int

his throat. "Don“t speed up the process， okay? Now， if you“ll behave，

ea

s you beg

hero in the victim“s mind. Look how merciful he is. He saved me when all I could do wa

shutter with my sweat-slicked hands. Masquerade leans out the si

u a choice

siding slats. He slaps my hand away. Joints snap. I yelp. He snatches up my free wrist in his glove， his masked fac

， or

ke my

I think he“s taken pity on me， he

*

ked out an update schedule， but I“m thinking along the lines of something weekly， l

che