Chapter 11
Homeroom ended with the bell, but perhaps for the first time in the history of this class, the students didn’t immediately spring out of their chairs to flee the room. Instead, Mr. Hendricks was serenaded by a cacophony of disappointed groans.
“Sweet music to my ears,” he mused, though nobody was paying attention. Eventually, they started to stir, because no amount of momentary distraction would delay a student in a classroom during the middle of their break.
“Janice, Roy, remember you owe me two paragraphs on proper school attire. Crocs are not appropriate footwear. The rest of you, I’ll see you tomorrow!”
Tiff’s day wore on in blessed mundanity. Not that she was expecting anything to happen, but after last week’s excitement, school almost felt too dull. Math was dry, history was old news, and the halls between each of her lessons were filled with the sound of pleasant chatter rather than the devastation of a forming Rift. By the time Tiff was jonesing for her lunch, she had mostly forgotten that she was supposed to be worried over the fact that she was a Supervillain surrounded by Citizens.
Up until the point where Tiff sat down, alone, at a table in the corner of the cafeteria, and began retrieving the items from her brown-bag lunch and started sorting them in front of her by weight, color, shape, and texture. As usual.
To Tiff’s great surprise, Candice plopped a tray onto the table and sat down across from her. Tiff stared as the girl picked up the sandwich off her tray and angled it with a critical eye, searching for the perfect bite.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Candice said without looking up. “Why am I sitting here? Or something close enough, I guess. You’re honest, so I’ll be honest too. You’re, like, weird. But maybe you’re cool too? We’ll see.”
Tiff’s mouth had been slowly falling open, so she slowly closed it.
“Are you a good judge of cool?” Tiff asked. Candice finally looked at Tiff, her face once again conveying how much she didn’t understand Tiff’s words. She wasn’t confused; she was just looking at the girl as if she couldn’t believe she had the gall to say that to her face.
“I mean,” Tiff clarified, “I don’t. I’m not trying to dig against you, but if you weren’t aware, I don’t think I’d be able to pick cool out of a crowd.”
Candice slowly took a bite, keeping her eyes locked on Tiff’s chewing very slowly as she waited for Tiff to crack. Tiff did not. Candice eventually swallowed, smiled, and pointed at Tiff.
“See? That’s a start. No nonsense, we can work with this. Every hero needs a straight man.”
“Excuse me?” Tiff spluttered, just as she was about to take a bite of her apple. Candice didn’t think there was anything wrong with what she said and shrugged.
“I’m talking about me, of course,” she said haughtily, though she did crack a smile. “Going to make captain of the varsity squad next year. I’m kind of a big deal.”
Tiff stared at Candice, who raised a speculative eyebrow and continued as if she was talking about the weather.
“How do you feel about cheerleading? Obviously, the sidekick needs to participate, but she can’t overshadow the hero.”
“You think I’m a sidekick?” Tiff asked in disbelief. If she didn’t know Candice was clearly joking, she might have been insulted. At least, she was pretty sure Candice was joking.
“Maybe not yet,” Candice said seriously, her grin still present. “But we’ll get you there.” She reached across the table and patted Tiff’s hand patronizingly. “Don’t worry.”
Tiff rolled her eyes and ate her jello.
The rest of the school day passed much as the start had, which was unsurprising once Tiff thought about it. She wouldn’t have PE until tomorrow, and that was where things were going to get weird. Her dad already forwarded Tiff’s updated physical requirements to the school, so they should be aware that she was now classified under “special needs.” Tiff didn’t like that wording; it almost felt derogatory, but it was true and she was simply nervous about how her peers might take the news of her exemptions…whatever form they might take. As for her other stat changes…since the Assessment cleared her from any banned traits or abilities, she wasn’t required to disclose her two S’s. Sadly, just because she had an S in mind did not make her a super genius. She was not instantly incarnated as the second coming of Einstein, which was probably for the best. She didn’t want to deal with hair that wispy.
Tiff was, however, mildly surprised to see Amy bounce up to her as soon as the bell rang, and Tiff was waiting for the bus in the parking lot.
“Not hanging out with your friends today?” Tiff asked. Amy didn’t usually ride the bus. Even when she came straight home after school, Amy was allowed to walk where Tiff was not. Tiff would have grumbled about the injustice of it, but she didn’t begrudge Amy her freedom, and after her Might got downgraded, Tiff couldn't muster up the strength to argue.
“Nope!” Amy chirped. “But why are you standing in line for the bus?”
“Because I want to go home?” Tiff asked. Amy gave her a peculiar look.
“You need to check your phone more.”
Tiff fished the small hunk of plastic out of her bag. Unlike some of her peers, she was not obsessed with owning the latest and greatest model. For her, a phone wasn’t a way to gossip with her friends and squeeze herself into the trendiest cliques. It was a practical way to summon somebody with a car and to let her parents know her current whereabouts.
Tiff stared at it, shocked to see she had a missed call and two new messages. Nobody ever called her. She was, if nothing else, predictable. And, as a rule follower, she always kept the thing on silent and hidden away in class, far away from any temptation to bring it out and risk getting it confiscated.
Amy was programmed in practically the polar opposite way. Her phone wasn’t the latest and greatest, per se…or at least, it wasn’t the most expensive, top-of-the-line, brand new model. Tiff could easily see a world in which Amy Awoken to a Technomancer class…or at the very least, a Tinkerer.
Though that seemed entirely unlikely, now that she really stopped to think about it. Tiff had already Awakened to a Class, and that was rare for a single family. It wasn’t entirely uncommon for children to inherit some of their parents’ enhanced genes if they were Meta, but it was usually minimal. Victoria’s enhanced strength was already rare. Amy wasn’t as strong as their big sister, but she was probably the strongest kid in her class, and she’d gotten a decent chunk of their dad’s brains, too. Which sounded gross.
But speaking of her sister and her dad, Tiff finally checked her phone. The missing call was for her mom, asking how Tiff’s day was going. Tiff rolled her eyes; the call was from 9:30 that morning and the day had barely started. On top of that, what was Tiff supposed to do? Disrupt her class by taking the call just to soothe her mother’s worries? That sounded like a great way to get her phone confiscated.
The first text was from her dad, letting her know that the clerical aspect of her Awakening had been handled and that the school had been notified of her Assessment. He made sure to stress that all relevant information had been given and that she didn’t have to share any more with anyone, not even the principal.
The final text was from Victoria, which surprised Tiff. Normally, Tiff would run into her big sister at home, but otherwise didn’t talk to her over the phone. The same went for all her family, but especially her very self-sufficient, very independent big sister. If she wasn’t actively delving into a Rift, she was training her body to keep in shape or else preoccupied with her job.
Which, now that Tiff thought about it, was exclusively devoted to protecting her.
“Big big sis is coming to pick us up,” Amy crooned. “I’m going to catch a ride with her.”
True enough, that’s exactly what the text said. Tiff hardly had the chance to confirm the actual words when she heard a honk and Victoria’s voice shout out.
“Little sisters! Over here!”
Sure enough, there Victoria was in her crappy Camry.
“Get in the car!”
“Me first!” Amy ran forward, yanking at the passenger side door. Unlike their mom’s truck, shotgun might actually do something for Amy. Tiff didn’t particularly care either way, but she did laugh as Amy’s attempt to get ahead of her was foiled. She tugged futilely against the handle, but the door wouldn’t budge.
“Tori, buy a better car!” She whined, leaning back with all her might as she continued to latch onto the handle.
“Let go, you doof,” Victoria smirked, leaning over and grabbing the latch from the inside. “You know it’s broken and hanging onto it like that isn’t going to fix anything.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Amy grumped, sliding inside. “Where are we going?! Why are you here?!”
“Relax,” Victoria laughed. “We aren’t doing anything special.”
“Aww,” Amy pouted. “So why are you here then? Not that I’m not grateful for a ride, but why aren’t you at work?”
“I am working,” Victoria sighed, taking on a more serious tone. She leaned back to make sure Tiff was settling comfortably. “How you doing back there?”
“I’m good, Tori,” Tiff sighed.
“What do you mean, you’re working?” Amy asked, perplexed. Victoria continued to stare at Tiff as she buckled herself in, but her lips were sealed as she drew them into a tight line.
“She’s my [Bodyguard],” Tiff eventually sighed. She looked up to find Amy staring at her, shocked and suspicious.
“What?” She eventually demanded, turning to Victoria. “Why’d you do that? Why would you need to? I don’t get it. Wait…does it have to do with Tiff’s super secret Class?”
Tiff said nothing as Amy rambled, shifting her eyes between both of her sisters. As soon as she talked herself out, Victoria glanced at Tiff before staring at Amy seriously.
“You want me to kick her out, boss?”
“WHAT?! You wouldn’t dare!!”
As amusing as it would be to see Victoria toss Amy from the car, Tiff wasn’t that petty.
“It won’t be necessary,” Tiff sighed. “Yes, Amy. It’s for my Class. No, I’m not going to tell you what it is. Don’t ask.”
“But I want to know!” Amy begged, turning around. “Why are you keeping it a secret? What’s so special about it? What if it’s actually really cool?”
“What if it’s not?” Tiff countered, unamused. Amy stuck out her tongue and turned back around.
“Well, fine! Be boring then! Maybe when I Awaken, I won’t tell you, just on principle!”
“Please,” Victoria laughed. “You never shut up. You not spilling the beans would literally be impossible.”
“Hey,” Amy frowned. “I can keep a secret.”
“I’m sure,” Victoria teased.
“You know what, I won’t tell either of you. So there!”
“Fine,” Victoria laughed. “Don’t tell us when you become a Citizen. That way, we don’t have to throw a party.”
“I take it back,” Amy instantly capitulated. “Bring cake. Lots of cake. And ice cream. Cookie dough.”
“You gotta Awaken first!”
“I know!” Amy whined. “It’s a whole year away! But at least I don’t need to wait that long until I can go to the DMA.”
Ah yes. Amy’s latest favorite topic of conversation. Tiff frowned but otherwise tried her best not to let her recent shift in attitude sour her sister’s excitement over the DMA. All Amy could talk about was how many resources the DMA had at its disposal. After receiving her letter of recommendation, Amy had done some serious digging into the DMA.
Most notably, the classes and courses one could take to help guide them into a specific field. They ranged widely, depending on how much someone wanted to spend or invest in their pursuit of advancement, from something as basic as one-time online classes to a program resembling a fully fleshed-out JROTC. Young Justice was part of that system, where budding heroes could latch onto experienced mentors in an apprenticeship program.
Nobody could ever predict if they would actually become a Meta, but if a person was determined and dedicated enough, they could guide their Class from Citizen to one of many, many support or administrative roles.
Amy wasn’t interested in fighting crime directly, but she was over the moon as soon as she discovered some of the more famous Tech-based heroes offered insight and advice columns alongside workshops for budding Tinkerers.
She spent the entire ride home talking her sisters’ ears off, gushing over this project an apprentice had published for peer review. Most of the technical details flew over Tiff’s head, but it sounded like, through advanced arithmetic and sufficient tomfoolery, somebody had created a machine to calculate the probability that any given brand of washing machine or dryer would eat a single sock from a pair. Apparently, it was accurate to two decimal places, but needed more verification.
What a world they lived in.
When they parked in front of their house, Amy shot out of the car to go get a head start at playing video games before anybody could tell her no, while Tiff and Victoria both let out a sigh of relief. They both loved their little sister, but she was a handful. And a mouthful. An everything-ful.
“The whirlwind has left the building,” Victoria sighed.
“More like entered the building,” Tiff agreed. “We still have to go in there. Do we dare?”
“Unless you fancy living in my Camry, then yes.”
“I suppose there’s nothing for it,” Tiff joked. “How much do you charge for rent?”
Victoria scoffed and the sisters went inside. Amy did not, in fact, get very far in her quest for vidya-game. Their mom was in the entrance, waiting for them, most likely ready to hover over Tiff some more, but took that opportunity to pester Amy as it presented itself. Amy made the ill-fated choice to try to squeeze past Melissa, but the long arm of the law reached out, pinned her down, and began tickling. Victoria and Tiff calmly nodded in greeting as they passed, but otherwise ignored the victim’s squeals. A few hours of peace and quiet ensued, where Victoria passed the time reading a book in Tiff’s room while the girl herself dutifully completed her homework. All was well until 4:30, when their dad announced dinner.
“How does everybody feel about artichokes?”
Hold the phone, this was a new development!
“Artichokes?” Melissa instantly perked up. It might be a little weird to outsiders, but in the VanDyne household, artichokes were a rare treat. They were also a full meal, but sometimes, in the off-season when the ‘chokes were small and pitiful, they’d pair them with steaks or chops. Rick emerged from the kitchen holding two bags, from which he exhibited a glorious example of an artichoke the size of a bloated softball.
“ARTICHOKES!” Amy yelled, and the house was once again in danger of going deaf. Until Melissa reached over threateningly with wiggling fingers.
“No! Mom! Not again!” Amy jumped up and fled the room. Melissa very slowly and deliberately got up and stomped after her. The kitchen fell into peaceful silence. Victoria took one of the bags from their dad and nodded in approval as she observed their score.
“These are good. I’m surprised you managed to get so many.”
“So am I,” Rick chuckled. “They were on sale. Two for a dollar, and there was a whole bin of them. I had to fight through a crowd to get these.”
“And they said you only have a C in Might,” Victoria praised. “Do we have everything we need to go with them?”
“Got salt, plenty of butter,” their dad mused. “Girls, check the lemon and the mayo.”
“Nobody needs mayo,” Tiff muttered darkly, while Victoria mussed her hair.
“Not everybody hates mayo,” she said. “We’re good. This container is at least half full.”
She pulled out a small plastic container shaped like a lemon and gave it a shake. That would last a long time.
“Great! Now all we need is time,” Rick said, pulling out a huge pot and filling it with water. “In the meantime, any news on the Rift?”
Tiff found it interesting that her dad would ask her sister about Meta-related things, but then again, he worked with Troubleshooters that mainly dealt with the human side of heroics, not Rifts. That was Victoria’s domain.
“Doesn’t look like it’s a viable Rift,” Victoria shook her head. “They’re going to let it run its course and shut down. The area is more valuable to the city as a retail district than a very niche Rift zone.”
“A shame,” Rick said sadly. “I’m not saying Santa Ronda needs the influx of cash, but a new Rift would do wonders for the local economy. I can’t remember the last time a Rift opened in the area.”
“Didn’t one appear last year in Hollywood?” Tiff asked. She pulled up a chair next to Victoria and watched their dad cook.
“Sure,” Rick nodded, “But I wouldn’t call that local. I mean, it’s technically still Los Angeles County, but that’s 30 miles away. I’m talking in the area. Santa Ronda is, what, 4 miles? 5? If we’re talking ‘local’ Rifts, might as well bring up the Long Beach refineries.”
“I thought they stopped production years ago?” Tiff asked. It wasn’t recently, but she could have sworn one of her history classes went over it. Or maybe that was the ill-fated Alaska pipeline? What a strange endeavor, running oil through a savage wilderness. But then again, she had seen the huge industrial complexes in Long Beach once or twice, and they always looked like they were belching steam.
“They stopped oil extraction,” Victoria explained, “But they’ve got a Rift. Half of the machinery you can see from the freeway is actually producing power to keep the Rift stable. It’s old; pretty sure it opened in the late 80s.”
“Really?” Tiff asked. “They can keep a Rift open that long?”
“Don’t underestimate the determination of a Technomancer,” Rick laughed. “Long Beach is stable and very profitable. It’s a major economic center for Southern California and a significant export.”
“What do they produce?” Tiff asked, leaning forward. When she thought of money-makers in SoCal, she thought of Beverly Hills and movie stars. Victoria and their dad shared a wry smile.
“Magicoal,” Victoria eventually said. Tiff felt as if her world were shattering around her.
“Magi…coal?”
What the heck was that? It sounded like something a second-rate hero would fight over on a ripoff Saturday morning cartoon, obviously sponsored by an energy conglomerate.
“Yup,” Victoria laughed at the disgusted look on Tiff’s face. “Magical coal. Magicoal. Hey, don’t glare at me, I don’t name it! Some politician did. It’s exactly what it sounds like. Coal, but magic. All the benefits of natural coal you dig out of the ground, without any environmental concerns. You don’t even get black lung. It’s perfectly clean and about 500% more efficient than standard carbon fuel.”
“Then why don’t we use it in cars?” Amy demanded, returning in the wake of their mom. “Or better yet, where’s the flying cars? I was promised flying cars.”
“You weren’t promised flying cars,” Melissa smiled. “My mom was promised flying cars.”
“You ever try to stuff a hunk of rock into a gas tank?” Rick asked. “I’m sure they’re working on it. Why don’t you work on it?”
“Maybe I will!” Amy declared with a firm nod. Perfect, Tiff thought, the future was looking bright.
Artichokes weren’t just a family favorite treat. It was an incredibly active social meal. Everybody got a bowl with a massive artichoke (even Tiff), and there were spares for Melissa, Victoria, and anyone who wanted to share an extra. They each had tiny bowls with various dipping sauces (though Tiff preferred the melted butter with a hint of lemon). In the middle of the table was a giant bowl, usually reserved for movie nights, where they could fill it with two whole bags of popcorn. As they ate, half the fun was tossing the remaining inedible pieces of the leaves into the middle without pissing off an adult.
Since Melissa was also guilty of throwing (and missing) a leaf from time to time, responsibility fell squarely on Rick’s shoulders. He was lenient, and as the only man, horribly outnumbered.
Melissa picked up the conversation where Victoria and Rick left off when discussing the Santa Ronda Rift. In the circles she ran in, most people were glad to see it go. Trucking was a difficult job for many reasons, not the least of which was the demands on a person’s time and the complications it raised when trying to have a family. But long-distance trucking was particularly dangerous, given the wilderness drivers had to cross.
The modern world, for all its superheroes and, indeed, super weapons, was not fully tamed. Civilization could pop up wherever people wanted to put down roots, but so could Rifts. If there wasn’t a big enough base of people willing to dive into a Rift and shut it down, it could easily overrun and eradicate a settlement. That’s why most of humanity “chose” to live in urban sprawls and megacities. There were plenty of rural communities and towns, but freeways needed to be protected by barriers. Those weren’t cheap, and they weren’t foolproof. If a monster escaped a Rift and managed to populate in the real world, it could also overwhelm an unobserved barrier. The 5 freeway up the central corridor wasn’t quite as dangerous as some of those perilous routes ice-truckers took over frozen lakes, but it was an 800-mile gauntlet all the same from Mexico to Oregon.
One less “mild” Rift was a load off many people’s minds.
But it also raised a point for the opposition, as Melissa played devil’s advocate.
Some might say, if one Rift is open and stable, will another Rift actually spawn in the surrounding area? Very little was known about Rifts. Nobody knew if there was a limit to how many could spawn, or indeed, where one could spawn. They could appear anywhere…literally, anywhere. Including way up in the sky, putting aircraft in danger, or miles out in the sea. The Navy had long since confirmed the presence of a Volatile Rift in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, but it was far too deep to safely reach and people could only wait for it to close.
As an affluent city, Santa Ronda wasn’t in need of any softwood, which was what the Rift was speculated to produce. The bulk of the city was made up of residential zones, and nobody wanted to bulldoze the newest mall with the most recent facelift into a lumberyard.
Amy started asking questions, ranging from what kinds of monsters spawned in Rifts to how people fought them, and Victoria did her best to answer. There wasn’t a single definitive answer on how to handle a Rift, as there were too many variables inherent to the supernatural enigmas, and it also depended on who could respond first. People, it turned out, were just as varied as the Rifts.
Tiff sat back and rubbed her full belly, content and happy to listen to her sisters talk. If what she was hearing was true, she probably wouldn’t need to worry about Rifts much longer. They were Victoria’s business…when she wasn’t protecting Tiff. And even then, Tiff assumed her big sister would probably go back to work soon enough. Eventually, she would get over the shock of her new Class, and the world would go back to normal.