Takeout: Indian Style

by | Mar 5, 2017 | Chronicles

Cassie : “Congratulations, I think you may actually pass World History this semester.”

Feet kicked up on the coffee table in the living room, like I wouldn’t dare to do if we were in the kitchen and it was that table because A. Manners, and B. Mom would murder me where I sat. The tone is a lilting bit of sarcasm, because he didn’t fail the last one either and the implication that he might at all is a little silly. It’s a matter of whether or not he puts in the effort, not intelligence. He’s already done all this, after all, or at least he has the memories to tell him that he did. Force fed into his developing brain by scientists, or put there by actual educators the result is the same. I mean, I imagine it would be anyway. Especially if, unlike Conner, you weren’t aware there was a difference at all.

He doesn’t need me to do this. The tutoring. We both know it. I knew it before we even started, but it was an excuse. An alibi. At this point it’s almost ritual more than education, some sort of barrier that we create for ourselves before we get to move on with what we really want to do for the evening… no. Not that.

“I think we’re going to need a little more dedication if you want to manage early release from the awful prison of private school.”

He’s technically a junior to my senior, but with my late birthday we’re not all that far apart age wise. If you go by how old Conner Luthor is supposed to be, at least. If we go by actual time on Earth? Well. That’d probably put me beyond pedophile status and into something that man doesn’t even have a full definition for yet. Tossing my obnoxious red marker down on top of the pile of our assorted textbooks, I trade it out for the soda cup that had come with the takeout we’d ordered in. Even though we could have picked it up faster than it took them to get in the car and drive it over here, either one of us. We’re playing at normal, after all.

School work and studying has always been something I’ve made certain we do, but today? I’m dedicating a little more effort than usual. Call it deadlines from the school year that are out of my control, and definitely not my farewell visit with Tim Drake.

Conner : The little creatures who’s psionic training I had endured while in that cloning tank were very thorough. Not only do I have all the memories of a life that supposedly ran the course of fifteen years, at that time, but I’ve also got the emotions of it. The trouble for them, and frankly everyone else, is that my teachers under-estimated their creation. It had always a world of layers. Much like the real world. The virtual reality, psionic impression, whatever. As my Kryptonian side began to display itself, I was able to begin picking things up that didn’t make sense. Sounds, impressions, sights, that went beyond the scope of the training scenario.

Eventually, I’d begun to test the boundaries of the world I found myself in. Surprisingly, the boundaries had surrendered pretty easily. I could ‘cheat’ in the training room. Enhanced Vision could peer through the illusions. Enhanced hearing could hear my trainers discussing the potential results. At that point it became a game to me. What could I accomplish to please. How could I fail that would merit punishment. Could they force me to take part in their tests?

Unfortunately for the real world, the true results were that I came out of that cloning vat with a lot of knowledge but almost no emotional connection to anything. At the time, I just didn’t care about anything. There was as little sympathy for the bad guys that my handlers sent me after, as there was for a kitty in a tree. Meaning to say, none at all.

I’m pretty sure that’s why N.O.W.H.E.R.E. originally fostered my connections to Cassandra Sandsmark. That too had, in a way, backfired. While they believed themselves able to use her against me, they hadn’t realized that my lack of fear meant that I wasn’t easily controlled. Over all, I think we had come to a stalemate of sorts. Until my Father stepped in. Seeing the opportunity to use Cassie as the carrot, upon the stick to directing me in to keeping his popularity soaring.

“It was already a lock,” there’s a dimple in the smirk she’s affixed with. “We have a game next week. Coach took care of it for me.”

There was a time when I might not have told Cassie of this. She’s not one for the cheating. More over she seems to hate it when I invoke privilege. Whether it be my father’s name or something like my Coach insuring his star player makes it to the next game. But, I’ve also learned that Cassie is starting to realize that this is all a charade in the first place. I’m pretending to be a student. In fact, I’m pretending to be a bad student and an awful person, because it is the role I’m cast in. My ‘secret identity,’ happens to be that I’m the son of Lex Luthor. President of the United States. Metropolis’ first Son.

“Cass, if I get any more dedicated I’m going to have to buy a pocket protector. This is all just silly stuff anyway. We all know the Victor writes the history. So in a couple years I’m going to have to re-learn all of this in Chinese anyway.”

While the studying isn’t my gig? Take out food is one of the few loves in my life. One does not jest about Delivery Pizza, or in this case Delivery Indian food. “Let’s talk about something really important. Like what the … &^%$… is this red chickeny goodness?! My tastebuds are overloaded with spices. I don’t know whether to heat vision it all out of existence, ask you to kiss it better or eat more…”

“You. Really. Should. Kiss it all better. I mean.”

Cassie : Rolling my head to the side, the purse lipped look Conner gets is plainly my going through the thoughts of ‘haha, really?’ to ‘no, you’re kidding,’ to remembering that yes, I absolutely believe that could have happened, and therefor ‘nope, you’re not kidding,’ onto ‘ugh, Conner…’ I’d like to say it’s much harder for me to believe that than it actually is. But the combination of who he’s supposed to be, with who he really is, means I just happen to know better.

“He shouldn’t have done that, you’re totally capable of doing this.”

Capable and motivate are different things. Here’s a fundamental difference between the pair of us though. It would really bother me to get a failing grade, hell even a C, even though I’ve had about exactly the same amount of exposure to ‘actual’ school as he has. Before last year, I was ‘home’ schooled, just a global never in the same place sort of home. With different teachers sometimes, but usually just my Mom or some self-motivated studying. Conner is smart enough to do this, he probably knows the information already. He just doesn’t have to try because someone else will try for him.

In this case, someone went to the effort, to reward him for/make use of his half-assed effort on the basketball court and this is a game that works for my boyfriend. Anyone who plays into his ‘player’ reputation frankly has no idea how deep the game goes. But then, why should they?

“You will not, you don’t even have a pocket in the right place to need one.”

The sigh of frustration is much more at his selection for winning country than his general attitude towards our high school level educations.

“China? Not likely. Not unless we magically end up in Asia. Then it might be more of a threat. Unless you mean Economically instead of on the Military front.”

Plucking the carton in question out of his hands lets me peer into it, to double check the contents before fishing out a nibble of it myself. It’s a riot of spices, but not in a way that threatens to overwhelm me. My globe trotting upbringing with Mom meant I was introduced to a lot of different types of food, and none really ever became default normal for me. I am not actually much of a fan of many ‘American’ classics, because I find them bland. But, I also don’t have quite the same level of heightened senses as Conner does.

“What, the tandoori? Cardamom, cinnamon, ginger, cayenne… baby need some yogurt?”

It’s not the term of endearment version of the word ‘baby’ so much as my teasing him as I put on a look of overdone sympathy for him and his poor tongue. I may be rolling blue eyes at him, but I leave off licking the chicken’s coating off my fingers to lean over and give him that requested kiss anyway. At least for his lips. The rest of his mouth is just going to have to deal.

Conner : “Listen, Cassie, he wanted to do this for me. I didn’t want to do the test. When our wants align, we become Captain Planet. So we made it so.”

If the nonchalance with cheating was one thing, then casual manner in which I’m blowing the whole thing off? Is sure to make the girl next to me twitch in all the right ways. Or wrong ones. Depending upon your vantage point. But the deeper side of this all? Is that Cassie really has to wonder about it all. Am I blowing it off? Do I know the information? Could it be that I’m abusing my Name or is this really about playing the role. The answer might be any of those, but since she loves to manage the person I am? I take a great deal of pleasure in making her work for it.

“Pocket Protector. Right here. Maybe some glasses. Actually, I bet that I look even better with glasses. Have you ever noticed that any time there’s Hotness, you just add glasses and it dials it up ten percent. Why don’t they ever do math problems like that? If you take one hot Cheerleader. Add blonde hair, but subtract a Bra, while supplying her with glasses and a libido. Does she Rule the World?”

The kiss is taken, appreciated for what it was and eye narrowing accusation for what it was not, before I’m on to drowning the spices out with sweet tea. Sweet Tea and little bit of a snort over her for the baby comment.

“Everyone knows China is going to rule the world in the next ten to fifteen years. It’s inevitable. Just look at this growth. In economical and financial merit alone, they’re the only threat to the American Way of Life. If they weren’t my Father wouldn’t spend so much time having his PCTSA devising plans for the ‘China Solution.’ So far they’ve come up with something a lot like your Ancestors employed. Salt the Earth, I think your Father called it.”

Snatching Cassie’s hands in an effort to lick away residue. Either to prove that I’m not a baby or to tease her, maybe both. “So. Wanna put on the costumes and go out for a Fly? I hear Gotham is nice this time of year.”

Cassie : “Uh huh. Which one are you? Full of wind, and Coach is Heart?”

In this case, I think it’s some of all of the above. Most people don’t like taking tests, your average jock probably wants to even less and for Conner it’s a pointless exercise to show that he knows something he doesn’t need to know, coupled right along side with it being perfectly normal and expected for him to not do it at all. Maybe if the teachers couldn’t tell that he’s smart they’d try harder, or maybe if his father wasn’t Lex Luthor…

That’s not a string I get to pull. I mean, even if I wanted to, which I don’t. Maybe that’s a good thing, since in the grand cosmic scheme of things when you’re looking at influence, and power, my father may actually be one of the only people that could outstrip his in the first place. But if I started demanding my math teacher let me out of a calculus test because the God of the Gods decreed it so, they’d just send me to the nurse’s office thinking I was having a psychotic break.

“No, she doesn’t. Because she’s responsible with no world-conquering desires. She might flex that nerd cred to wrap some unsuspecting meathead around her little finger though.”

I ignore the lewder part of that comment, because fussing or commenting on it would just make him latch onto it even more. Besides. The commentary on China is enough confirmation that he does actually pay attention to things outside of what’s just going on in the ten feet around him. I know he does. It’s why I don’t get as upset as I could about the whole test situation. I get it. I do. I also know he’s putting in way more effort for my benefit than he actually needs to.

“Scorching to precede the salt? Maybe a little Patricide as a warm-up?”

Another point towards the argument that he pays attention outside of the immediate area, and further reason to internally grouse and grump at Tim’s methods when a phone call would probably have been more likely to escape Conner’s notice. I let myself be distracted for just a moment by what he’s doing, and not focusing on what he’s saying even though I heard perfectly clear. The attention leaves me clearing my throat softly, feeling my cheeks get a hair warm.

“Where’d you hear that, and was it Opposite Day when you heard it? Gotham is awful.”

He’s never expressed even the slightest interest in Gotham. Like ever. While logically I know that not everything we hear on the news sums up the city, and that it likely has its bright spots? Here in Metropolis you just don’t really hear about them unless you’re hunting. Whereas this boy very likely put a two and two together of his friend wandering off to ‘somewhere’ in connection with other things and now is curious about the whys. But you don’t tell him no without offering an alternative. You just don’t. People like the Luthors don’t get told no without it tripping their ego/power switch.

“But I do want to go flying.”

Leaning more into Conner’s side than into the back of the sofa, I nuzzle my nose along his shoulder and hip his neck. It could probably be more overt flirting, but if I oversell the snuggling he’s just going to know I’m trying to pull a fast one. Or at the very least distract him.

“We could go get some legit kulfi? They didn’t have them at this place. It’s like the best Popsicle you could ever have.”

Conner: “Isn’t that cute? It’s like you haven’t even ever met me before. I couldn’t be one of those jerks. I wouldn’t combine my power with someone else. I’d just handle the problem. By myself. It’s what I do. Coach is all heart though. You should have seen the way he was grousing about my spending all my time with my tutor, but not learning anything but how to ogle my girlfriend.”

“Lookit you thar, being all smarmy and egotistical all at once. Who said anything about you being the nerdy cheerleader, ruling the world?” Clearly having it not occur to him that she might be suggesting he were that meathead. “Besides which. If you think about it. You would do such a good job at it. You’ve spent your whole life learning about all the Historical things that the world should never repeat.”

“Plus. I mean. Have you considered how much you’d enjoy taking this whole high road, holier than thou routine on the road? You’d have the whole world to boss around, sass and correct whenever they do anything wrong.”

If I were smirking before it’s grown by a factor of ten now. Not only do I like teasing her, but I love it when she makes it easy for me. Sure, I’ve got to deal with being teased about my burning tongue to get there, but once we make it I get the payoff of watching her flush. Sometimes she even sputters. But if the worst case happens and Cassie gets mad at being teased? Well then the makeup activities usually more than makeup for everything else anyway.

For more than a few moments I’m really concerned about getting every last bit of spices off of her fingers. One at a time. Focused, in fact. To the point of letting the conversation take it’s own course, with Cassie turning aside my ideas about Gotham. Then as she is making her own round about counter-idea? I let my touch wander up her arm, skimming across clothing to the side of her neck. I’m just about to sneak a kiss from her, when I settle back rather suddenly and give her the one thing I know she isn’t counting on.

“Okay. But. Only if you let book the night at the Marari.” A fingertip lightly taps her upon the nose, then trails down across her lips, silencing her immediate acceptance of the terms. “And. Pack your bags.”

You see. There are consequences to managing your boyfriend. Especially when he knows you’re doing it. This is merely a question of negotiation now. How important is denying me access to Gotham. What can I get out of it and will Cassie make it worth not pursuing what I’m really interested in? No matter how she responds to this, I’ve gotten information -or- I’ve gotten a large payoff. The only thing I know for sure, is that she’s not going to call my bluff. Because she knows I don’t actually bluff. My complete lack of shame, patience or material attachment affords me no reason to actually bluff.

“What. Haven’t you seen the news? They’re having so much fun over there! All those crazy costumes. Criminals in every corner. It looks like a job for Superman… just the sort of thing you’ve been wanting me to do with my powers.”

Oh, yeah. That’s right. Add a side of her words against her. Push the angle of doing the right thing. I’m going to India tonight, folks. I don’t win these very often. So when there’s opportunity? I’m letting the smirk out in full two-dimple force. The kind of smirk that says I’ve already packed her bag, I just can’t wait for her to unpack it.

Cassie : “Hah. If you’ve ever said a more true thing than that, I don’t know what it is…”

He’s not joking, and while he’s teasing and answering my banter, it is precisely what I said. True. When you’re a Super and a Luthor there’s not much that’s outside your ability to grab and/or do, so why do you need to share or lean on anyone else? I guess it’s fortunate for me that I fill a niche that he can’t just get for himself or we probably wouldn’t be together. And the fact that I’m not much in for being used makes this a bit different than most other relationships with people he’s got right now. I’ve got my own powers, I don’t care about the influence of the money.

“I would probably make a pretty great Benevolent Overlord. History just also says that never really ends well for anyone. So I’ll just settle for bossing around my very own Superboy.”

All through this, I’ve gotten a little more progressively pink in the face, up until I’m to the point of attempting to reclaim my fingers from him, but when it comes down to it Conner is stronger than me. For now. And the amount of struggle I’d have to put up to win that mini-battle isn’t worth it. So I’m pretty grateful for the moving on to kissing again, for a whole variety of reasons. You know. Up until he just stops. Leaving me huffing in disappointment, and narrowing my eyes at him. That was too quick an agreement, so I purse my lips, blue eyes flicking towards the cellphone that is all that had stopped my marker from rolling onto the floor. I don’t know the name. That makes me want to stoop to Google before I agree to anything here.

Turnabout is not fair play and no one that’s ever experienced it would ever say so. This is a big circle of flipped ideas we’ve got going here, from turning the Gotham trip to India, to where we are now.

“Uh huh… it is…”

I don’t even try to hide my suspicions as to what he’s up to. He’s probably up to many things right now, and the number of dimples is exponentially related to how much trouble I’m going to be in. But if there’s no trip to the other side of the world tonight? We’re going to Gotham. This probably should be a no-brainer. I should just text Tim and say ‘sorry, pal I tried, really I did’ and just go with it. But he’s not the only one I want using their powers for good, and I really do actually like a great Indian dessert. Especially when you get it in India.

“Fine. But you have to call my Mom.”

Conner : “You’d make an excellent ‘Benevolent Overlord,'” there’s seemingly no teasing about it, it was after all my idea. “Think about it. Between the pedigree you’ve got and the chops you’ve earned from bossin me around? You’d be a natural.”

Alas, we both know the discussion about her being the Overlord has passed. What with the kissing, the exploring, the moment when we were about to take our playfulness from smooching to make out session. Complete with more than a little bit of blushing from one of the two of us. Only for the entire thing to be denied in the face of her having this entire thing turned around on her.

It doesn’t happen often. Me winning at something like this. Not to say that I don’t win, because I do. Fairly often even. This is just the exception to the rule, that says Cassie always wins when she’s the one employing the tactics of seemingly giving me what I want, while getting what she wants. This must be a bitter medicine, in a way. Especially once she recognizes it for what it happens to be. That’s the worst for me too. When I realize she’s gamed me. I like that she has Game, I just don’t like it put forth upon me.

At the moment, the exact moment, of agreement? I’m swooping in to sneak a kiss. A real kiss. Soft at first, but putting coal upon the fire of the heat in her cheeks that was only beginning before. There’s something more to all of this. Not only did I buy in too quickly, but I’ve not let up upon getting what I want. If anything the kiss is as much celebratory as anything.

“No worries, Brighteyes. I talked to Mom earlier and told her we were taking a ‘cultural road trip.’ She was worried about it being a school night,” flashing that charming smile, which involves more than a little batting of the eyes. “But I promised to talk to you about not forgetting the ‘Potential of Schools Abroad,’ too.”

“I’ll grab our swim suits from California. Put a couple things in there to keep us busy on the flight over…” Fwooosh! Cassie’s hair rustles in the displaced wind from my speeding away.

Cassie : “Maybe I’ll work up to that. Do Overlords have Consorts, because I think that title would fit you pretty well. You know. Unless you keep teasing me…”

It’s all rather rhetorical though. The teasing and banter results in a lot of those questions, and in many cases goes until one or the other of us has to shut the other up in creative, affectionate ways. Well, usually they’re affectionate. I was all ready for it to continue in that direction, too, up until Conner put on the brakes to frustrate me and capitalize on a moment when things were decidedly in his favor. Very like him, really. Damn it all.

“Hmph.”

I’d say that the kiss is my reward for going along with what was maybe his plan all along, and in part? Maybe it is. But it’s also about throwing me off. Keeping me off balance until the moment where there’s simply no getting my footing back at all. I wasn’t ready for the kissing to resume. Into it enough that once again, I’m not ready for it to stop, so that once again I’m letting out a soft complaint. But there’s no denying Conner’s pleased. Too pleased, for this to just have happened to go his way and that concerns me. A lot.

“How nice of you. Always thinking about my future…”

My tone is dry, and a little bit exasperated. He’s already talked to my Mom? Definitely up to something, and I’m replaying the day to see at what point I started tip toeing into this trap, and wondering how obvious it was before the moment it sprung closed on me.

“On the flight over? We’ll be flying on the flight… hey!”

Double damn it.

With a much louder noise of frustration, I toe his textbook cover closed, the rest of the pages had flipped in his passing and lost our place as it was. My stomping of displeasure as I go upstairs in a normal, teenage girl sort of antic. I just have to make sure to stomp gently, but quite loud enough that he’s going to hear it just the same.

Rendezvous

by | Feb 26, 2017 | Chronicles

Tim: Making friends is not exactly top of the priority list. Not when you’re actually attending these schools for their intended purpose: Education. Soaking in every single thing you can, in order to further your own personal agenda. There is very little time for the extra curricular that most people in the age group might enjoy. Despite the focus, the intent design upon learning everything possible as quickly as possible, a couple of friends happened anyway. It hadn’t particularly been because of shared interests though.

At first it was simply clinical interest in the mythical ‘Son of Lex Luthor.’ He was a mystery in and of himself, which tripped all of the little red flags in my head that have been drilled in for years. Nothing about Conner Luthor was natural or easily explained. No real records of him prior to his basically showing up on the school’s doorstep. What history did exist was clearly fabricated. The thinly veiled lie that it had been for his protection only heightened the need to look deeper. Then deeper again when this super boy found himself in the news.

What I had at the end of that search hadn’t been entirely what I expected. This group, N.O.W.H.E.R.E. was the meta-human equivalent of the boogeymen. Hunting down metas all across the country and doing god knows what with them. Their connections to Conner Luthor was stranger still. It seemed that they were the reason for his missing history. Except that it got even more curious still when I dug deeper and found that he’d been working for them, not hiding from them. Nothing added up, so I decided to extend my normal stays at these schools until I rooted out the truth.

Nothing was ever simple though, was it? Every new bit that I’d uncovered took me deeper down the rabbit hole. Until I’d at least unraveled one mystery. I knew why this mysterious Luthor was here. A man with his resources could put his son in to any school he wanted. Yet here was Conner Luthor going to some private school in Metropolis. An all Boy’s school. Sure it fit in with his Father’s agenda, as being ‘Home Grown,’ but it simply didn’t make sense. Until I met her.

“Thanks for meeting me,” it’s not your usual place that I might be seeing her. “Without your boyfriend, I mean.”

The Metropolis Museum of Natural History. A natural place for Cassandra Sandsmark to be. Her mother has connections here, if not being properly on the payroll. Her own background would bring her to this place on her own accord. It’s public, while being private all at once. In one hand is a starbucks coffee. In the other is a Metro-Moo-Moo-Milk, Chocolate. It’s the latter that is being offered to her.

Cassie : I don’t exactly get to meet a lot of Conner’s friends. That might make a lot of girls wonder about what that might spell for their relationship with a boy, except in my case I’m actually pretty aware of what that is. For starters, he doesn’t really have many. How’s that work when you’re the resident A-Lister? Well, people want to be your friend but in reality they just want to use you for your connections. For some kids that might work out to be the same thing, but Conner doesn’t have anything in common with most of them. Other than the fact that he looks like a teenage boy, comes from money and has the trust fund and allowance to match. He at least fits in with his classmates.

“Hey, no problem.”

I can’t say the same. It’s only because I understand the necessity in fitting in and not drawing attention to myself (the wrong kind of attention that is) that I bother at all. While it had started as an act, I have actually made a few friends along the way. The sort of people that we hang out with on the weekends, or go to movies as a group with. About the same as the sorts of friends of Conner’s that I’ve met. Friendly, but probably not someone that’s going to be on my Christmas card list in five years. Maybe my priorities are a little skewed though. Common interests, so to speak.

It really is no problem though, turning up because Tim had asked me to. And the location doesn’t exactly strike me as weird. I grew up in Museums, and on dig sites. This is so much more my natural habitat than a gymnasium in my idiotic cheerleading skirt. The one I’m wearing right now is equally idiotic, but it’s about a foot longer. And plaid, awful blue plaid in the proper colors a St. Mary’s girl should be wearing. I should technically be in school right now, but of all the places to play hookie this one isn’t going to get me into trouble. I can claim project research, or if nothing else? That I already know everything there is to know about this week’s ancient history syllabus.

The chocolate milk is taken with a pleased, and grateful smile and I twist the top off in order to take a swig. Without my boyfriend? The drink covers up the skeptical look on my face as to whether that’s actually the case or not, if only partially. He’s not physically here but whether I’m really without him or not?

“Well… uh. You’re. Welcome? What’s up, Tim? Not that semi-clandestine museum rendezvous’ aren’t fun but I have a feeling you’re pretty much the only boy at that school that wouldn’t need a guided tour and a tutoring session.”

Tim: The school uniforms is a thing. Both schools. Cassandra’s and the one that I’m attending alongside her boyfriend. We should both be sporting it, but only one of us is doing so. Which is a brand of irony in and of itself, given that I feel at home in one and this girl’s reaction says she’d rather wear anything but it. Well, almost anything. Her facial nuance is clear any time she’s wearing her standard cheer outfit, that it’s tolerated but not exactly adored.

Once the milk has been handed off, there’s a shared glance of understanding over whether or not her boyfriend is ‘around’ or not. “No. No tours or tutoring, although I understand you’re something of legend at those particular things. Maybe another time.”

The slant of one thin eyebrow speaks far more than the actual words spilling forth do, but that’s because I’ve actually done my homework. It’s what I do. According to the kids St. Francis, Conner went from an absentee, smart mouth, never turn in an assignment loser to a straight A student almost magically after starting his sessions with this girl. If that didn’t merit a second look, then nothing would. When given that second glance though, it’s quite curious how she’s tutoring someone like Mr. Luthor in anything. Their course work is almost completely counter to one another. They share not one single common thread. Yet results speak for themselves. Her impact upon Luthor’s life was a turn around. The only real question is how she managed it, I have my guesses based upon other meetings but…

“I’m leaving,” no preamble, just the facts of the situation. “I don’t know if or when I’ll be back.”

“Things are happening back home, it’s a long story. There’s a need for secrecy that I’m afraid Conner wouldn’t quite understand, but I’m willing to share it with you if need be to garner your help. As you know, he’s associated with some people who might also take an interest in what’s transpiring in Gotham. I can’t take the risk of them knowing the whole truth.”

How -I- know about Conner’s associations is left quite unspoken about. What’s clear though, is that I’m aware at least some surface information about it. “Gotham is no place for someone like him. Someone like you either. I need your help, but I understand if you might have some reservations about helping me keep a secret from your boyfriend.”

Cassie : “I don’t know about legend, but I’ve got an unfair advantage that most kids don’t.”

More true than most people know, given that I could have flown here if I’d chosen but that’s kind of high profile and my skirt is knee length which means it’s not nearly long enough for that sort of activity. But after a moment’s pause I continue on and clarify that something like that isn’t what I’d meant. Nope. No bench pressing tanks here…

“I mean. My Mom has special clearance, and I was actually there when they discovered the burial site that they just started exhibiting. I was nine, but…right. Yeah. Another time.”

Conner hadn’t actually needed the tutoring. Everyone believes he did, so the whole ruse was clearly a success. He just hadn’t bothered. Everything I know about Tim says that is not his issue, and he’s given me a run for my money in a ‘facts’ race a time or two. His lack of uniform means he either had some time between school and here to change, or maybe that he just didn’t go to school today. A question that answers itself with that bomb he’s just dropped.

“You know how ominous that sounds, right? Especially starting it with ‘if’ instead of just going with ‘when.’ The fact that you felt the need to put an ‘if’ in there at all…?”

I’m no dumb blonde. I’m not the overly suspicious brunette that Conner can be, either, but there’s just some things if you’ve got a brain and are attentive to the world around you, you’ll just pick up on. Twisting the cap back onto my Moo Moo, my lips do a little twist of their own to the side as the look of concern I’m wearing starts to get a little more intense.

“Tim. You don’t have to share anything if you don’t want to, I’d help anyway. No questions asked. Well.”

There’s a vague flick of my hand as if to indicate that that’s maybe not entirely true. It would obviously depend if he wanted my help with like. An axe murder, or something that would not sit right with me on the moral scale, but you wouldn’t need to explain that to most people. I probably shouldn’t actually be doing it now. It also brings the focus back onto me and less onto my ‘not present’ boyfriend, because I can’t exactly say ‘yup! I absolutely know that Tim and boy, you’re SO right…’ So I don’t say anything about it at all.

“Someone that goes to private rich kid school? Right, yeah. No. I mean. I understand. I don’t keep secrets from Conner. It’s kind of a big thing that he trusts me.”

Otherwise, how the hell am I going to manage him when he needs managing? But obviously, Tim doesn’t mean trust fund babies aren’t welcome in Gotham. He means the other kind of kids that we are. But when it comes to keeping a secret from Conner? Or meeting somewhere without him? Boy’s got super hearing and x-ray vision. Keeping him out of/away from something he’s half interested in is a challenge.

“But if it’s not my secret, then it’s not mine to tell him. Simple as that.”

Tim: “No. It’s Legend. Trust me. You’re the talk of St. Francis. Most of the guys think you have some sort of magic power or something. The others think you must be talented in other areas. They’re not smart enough to realize you have other means of keeping a Luthor’s attentions. Don’t hold it against them.”

There is a certain pause there, because the truth is I’d love to sit down and talk about the exhibit. Cassie was there. It’s like learning from the source. You couldn’t ask for a better information bank than that. Except, of course, her mother maybe. But. That pause ends when I have to weigh the desire to explore, with the need to get back home before someone does something stupid.

It’s Gotham. There is a whole lot of stupid. Even more than at school. “It’s not meant to be ominous, just truthful. Look, I can’t ask you to do something like this without at least a little bit of disclosure on my side. My adopted Father, Bruce Wayne, died recently. Got killed, actually. Most people don’t realize the connection because I don’t normally use his last name.”

“Your boyfriend knows though. I think that’s why I’m on the short list for his after-school shenanigans. Luthors. Waynes. It’s kind of a thing.”

“That’s part of the problem here Cassie, it’s not really a secret. Maybe I’m being a little too vague here. I just assumed he’d told you. I know.” Once again, there’s a pause. Giving her a chance to assimilate, to fill in the blanks of what that means. After a drink of coffee and reading her expression, there’s a little bit of a rolling to my eyes before I do it for her. “Come on. Really. You managed a superman with a full layout twist dismount at last year’s cheer competition. Except your superman had a torn quadriceps. The only miracle about it, is that you managed to do it while holding that micro-miniskirt in place.”

“And really. A superman? Did Conner talk you in to that…? Ugh. He’s a bit of a tosser with that ego of his at times. Y’know?”

“The point being. Your boyfriend doesn’t make friends easily. He’s going to notice if I disappear. He’s going to look in to it and while I can use this little clip to broadcast white noise for a few meters of privacy for this discussion? I can’t block out the whole City of Gotham. So I need Conner, and by Conner I really mean the people he works for, to not take an interest in where I’m going. So. Think you can distract him.”

“Wait. Correction. I know you can distract him. What I need is for you to keep him out of Gotham. Period.”

Cassie : My lips part like I’m about to ask him what other areas I’m supposedly talented in, but the words don’t actually make it past half-formed in my brain before I put two and two together, turn a soft shade of pink, and then close them again with an aggrieved ‘hmph.’ Boys. Basically only not the worst thing in the world, because girls are a lot higher on my terrible list as a species. And I have to spend a lot more time around them. Thankfully I have the good grace, and wit, to carry on with the conversation like that wasn’t just mortifying.

“Oh, no worry. I don’t intend to. They’d probably like it, and then Conner’d probably feel the need for some manly display of displeasure. The real secret was apparently just weeks of telling him to get lost and not fawning. Catnip for Luthors, or does it work on all of you?”

I go promptly from joking, however, to my lips twisting again in even moreconcern. Not because of who or what he is, or even who and what I am, or that he’s leaving but because of what he’s just told me. The why. I can’t even… imagine. I grew up with only one parent, and I was perfectly okay with that. There was no grieving the Father I didn’t have, because he was never there to be missed and wouldn’t have warranted the emotion thanks to the general abandonment. But my Mother? I can’t even imagine what losing her would do to me. Disregarding his coffee, and even the bottle of chocolate milk I’m holding there’s an abrupt, and honestly just a hair too fast moment to yank Tim in for a hug. Whether he really wants one or not. It’s happening. And though I take great care to not crush him, I’m not letting him get away either.

“Oh, Tim. I’m so, so sorry.”

Not until I’ve said that, at least, and can let go and while clearing my throat straighten my skirt that doesn’t really need it. Just something to do with my hands in what feels like a very awkward, should be doing more kind of moment. At least until I process what he just said. And then what that means, and I find myself clearing my throat again and answering a great deal more primly this time.

“Ahem. We have a very. Very good squad. And it’s better for the overall drama level in my life if I let them think that’s not because of me. But. No. I don’t make the routines and … yeah. His ego is a little bit ridiculous.”

I won’t say ‘can you blame him?’ because yeah, you really can but at least I understand where it comes from. Managing it is part of my full time job. I’m a little surprised Tim saw that, or even remembers it. Hell I barely did until he brought it up right now, but it’s just one of many events that kind of blurs together for me in the parade of time I spend pretending really hard to be normal. Sighing, I rub the bridge of my nose for a moment.

“You brought a white noise generator? You may as well be putting up a big flashing ‘S’ with the caption ‘pay attention to me!’ going up. Ugh. Look. Here’s what you need to do.”

Not a question of whether or not I can distract him, or keep him out of Gotham, though it gives me a focus instead of being really outwardly upset for my friend right now. Conner’s never seemed to care at all about what goes on there, so hopefully keeping his focus out of it won’t be difficult.

“Get him a birthday present and send it once you get settled. No. I know. It’s not his birthday. It can be an early one. Late. It doesn’t really matter. That’s what we’re planning right now.”

Tim: “I wouldn’t know, to tell you the truth. No one has ever tried that with me.” If the other times I’ve paused were for effect, this time it’s for honest consideration of the question. “To tell you the truth, I’ve never made the effort to have it tried on me to begin with. This might actually qualify as the longest discussion that I’ve ever had with a girl that didn’t involve me trying to explain the science behind why they were wrong…. uuuurk…”

For anyone else it might be awkward, but for me it’s a little comical to see how I’m taken from graceful as a cat to smooshed against the abnormally muscular blonde. If being crushed was a concern, then I’d make an effort to escape but I’ve seen her at work with all those powers of her’s. She’s practiced at not killing people. I know this for a fact, because her classmate Kelsey still walks around with all of her natural born teeth. What actually worries me is the fact that I’m making an effort to stay neutral, to keep myself balanced and focused. Something I’ve accomplished mostly by not being forced to confront everything going on. At least. Not in public.

Once released I’m only to happy to let her go about straightening herself out. After all it means a moment to do the same for myself. Putting dark clothes back in to the perfect order of someone with obsessive compulsive disorder. Including the six strands of hair that she mussed in the process.

“It’s not that good,” her team I mean. “Neither is our basketball team. There isn’t a lot of motivation to excel when your allowance exceeds most of the competition’s income. That’s why you stand out. Both of you. To anyone trained to look past the surface.”

“Birthday present. Check and done.’ I’m not even asking why, it goes right back to the earlier topic of ego. “I probably shouldn’t mention the saturated, low-band ultra-violet radiation that I’m generating to protect against enhance vision… you know what, never mind, point taken. Suspicious boyfriend. Got it.”

“Ouch. Bat-signal joke. Too soon, Cassie. Too soon.” Giving her a soft ‘punch’ on the shoulder, I take the first step towards moving away from her. “I’m teasing. It was funny. And true. I didn’t think about him being jealous, I’m a couple steps off my normal game, I guess. Should have considered that going dark for a clandestine meeting between his girlfriend and his roguishly handsome chum might make him jump to conclusions.”

“Thanks though. For keeping him out of Gotham. And. Y’know. Keeping him from …” Two fingers pointing at my own eyes, then making a little Fwoooosh sound as I point around. “… you’re the M.V.P. in my eyes. That’s why I came to you and why I’ll be there if you ever need help too.”

Cassie : “I’d say we could try to dial it back a little but… on the amazing scale, it’s hard enough keeping him at a three when what he really wants to be is eleven. You know. To match where he is in his own mind.”

Maybe I ought to feel guilty for ragging on my boyfriend when he’s not here to defend himself, but it’s not untrue. Besides. I rag on him to his face all the time, it just doesn’t make much of an impact. Reference comment about the awesome scale and his ego, and there’s not all that many moments in life when he couldn’t potentially be listening in. Which, really, is why the noise generator was a bad idea but there’s the possibility he’s not paying attention in the first place. We’ll hope for that. And I do actually appreciate the input about us standing out, all the rest aside.

I’d rather we didn’t. Or at least I didn’t, but Conner’s the President’s son and he’s going to have attention on him regardless. He’s supposed to excel and my mother would frankly be disappointed in me if I didn’t. Just not maybe in the same arenas, and for the same reasons. Given my parentage… the other half of it… I guess someone might say I’m supposed to be just as notable.

“…ugh, really? Well. I guess we better make this quick then.”

Quicker than I’d like to, given that he’s leaving and who knows when/if I’ll see him again if we’re supposed to stay out of Gotham. And unlike my other half? I’m going to accept that’s best on Tim’s word, and that alone. Until I’m told otherwise. I’d give him the tour just for that, but he’s probably got to get going, and I need to get back to school.

I actually cringe when he points out the reference in my joke, because I actually hadn’t thought of it quite like that. I should have. It was insensitive, and I look apologetic even though Tim says it was actually funny. I don’t even point out that there’s no way Conner’s actually going to be jealous, because ego blow on top of the loss of Bruce Wayne, and everything else? That’s just poor form, and he’s my friend. I wouldn’t even do something like that to Kelsey. Suspicious? Yes, he would be just because he’s being pointedly kept out of whatever we’re doing here. But jealous? Conner thinks/knows he’s the best thing on the planet and that no one else can compete with him. And while I can’t say Tim isn’t really cute? I’ve kind of only got eyes for my Superboy.

“And we don’t want conclusions being jumped to. Because. Yeah.”

Mimicking his eye-laser gesture, without the sound, before I let out a laugh that’s just a hair on the tense side. But that’s mostly for his sake, rather than any of what’s going on right here in the moment.

“Those. But. You’re welcome. I’ll do everything I can. On both fronts. Text me when you get there? And… every so often otherwise so I know you’re okay? I’ll miss you. He’ll miss you, so just try to come up with something to fire his way if you can.”

As ‘okay’ as he’s likely to be, anyway. Alive. Breathing.