Award winning short story by Erica Drake that she started reading in class and promised she would post on her blog which she forgot to do until now.
Here we go.
“I
feel ridiculous. We look like idiots.”
“Would
you rather wear the cape?”
“No.”
Pause.
“Maybe.”
Spitfire
took a deep breath in through her nose, out through her mouth—a vain attempt to
calm her jittery nerves—and looked down at her costume for the hundredth time
that night. A red, orange, and yellow leotard much like something you would see
a circus acrobat wear, most likely because this came from her time as a circus
performer. The lightweight Kevlar she wore underneath was a bit different
though.
Another
deep breath, because this was it. This was the night Spitfire, gymnast
extraordinaire and martial art (almost) master, made her heroic debut alongside
her expert mentor Red Sparrow. After years of preparation and training, this
was it.
Spitfire
breathed in deeply once again and was about to let it out when she caught her
mentor’s look and frowned. “Stop that.”
“Stop
what?” Red Sparrow asked, her voice seeping with affection. It reminded
Spitfire of the first time she’d pulled off a standing back flip when she was five
with Red Sparrow looking on, wearing the exact same expression she had now
underneath her mask.
“Stop
looking at me like that,” Spitfire demanded.
“Like
what?” Red Sparrow said obliviously.
“Like
your baby’s all grown up.”
Red
Sparrow laughed and reached for Spitfire’s cheeks, pinching them hard. “But you are all grown up,” she cooed. “And you are my baby.”
Spitfire
swatted away the pinching hands and scowled. “Stop it. You’re messing up the
mask.”
“And
it looks wonderful on you, kid.” Red Sparrow couldn’t stop the grin from
growing on her face.
“Stop
it!”
The
night grew darker and the city below them came to life. Spitfire watched from
their seat on the roof of the tallest building of the city as neon signs
flickered, people poured into streets, and the sounds of honking and yelling
that followed traffic filled the air.
Red
Sparrow went from playful to serious so fast Spitfire hardly had a chance to
enjoy the scenery.
“Okay,”
Red Sparrow said. “We’re about to start. Are you ready?”
Spitfire’s
heart was about to leap out of her chest and her stomach was doing little
flips. She was going to barf any second now. She took a deep breath, silently
gagged, and nodded.
Red
Sparrow nodded once. “Is your com in?”
Spitfire
pressed a hand against the little communication device in her ear. “Check.”
Red
Sparrow nodded again before bringing her hand to her own ear. “Q?” she said.
“Q, are you there?”
“Yeah,
sorry.” Q’s voice filled Spitfire’s ear as the com came to life. She heard the
light clacking of typing on a keyboard as Q settled in to his cushy desk chair
in front of a wall of computer screens back at home base. Spitfire wished she
were there with him. “My pizza just showed up.”
“You’re
eating pizza?” she scoffed. “We’re trying to protect the city and you’re eating
pizza?”
“I’ve
got four slices of pepperoni with your name on it when you get back.”
Spitfire
pouted. “Thanks.”
Red
Sparrow glared at her. “Focus, will you? Both of you?”
They
mumbled apologies before Red Sparrow continued. “Okay, remember, this is just a
routine patrol. Stay on the roofs and stay out of sight. Do not engage unless
absolutely necessary. Q, have you got us eyes?”
There
was a slight pause on the other end of the com before Q said, “Got it.”
“Good,”
she said, smiling reassuringly under her mask. “It’ll be fine. You’re gonna do
great, kid.”
Spitfire
gulped. “Easy for you to say. You’ve been doing this for, what, a year already?
I’m not a hero. I’m just a circus freak.”
Red
Sparrow laid a hand on Spitfire’s shoulder. “Hey, I’m a circus freak too,
remember? Just pretend you’re on stage.”
“This
is nothing like the stage!”
Spitfire
suddenly couldn’t breath at all. She forgot how to flip and punch and kick. She
didn’t even think she could touch her toes right now if she tried.
“This
is nothing like the stage!” she said again. “There’s nobody else around! I have
to stay out of sight and no one will even know I’m there! There’s no net to
catch me if I fall off the roof! There isn’t even a crowd to get me going! This is nothing like the
stage!”
Applause
erupted in her ear, causing her to wince.
“What
was that, Q?” she asked, slightly ticked off that Q interrupted her panicking.
“A
crowd to get you going,” he answered. “Don’t be so nervous, kid. I’m watching
you. I’m cheering you on. And I’ve got a whole bunch of sound effects in here
if you ever need something else to get you going. Don't forget the pizza when
you’re done.”
She
let out a breath of laughter but she couldn’t stop shaking.
Red
Sparrow tightened her grip on Spitfire’s shoulder. “And don’t forget,” she
said. “I’m here to catch you if you fall.”
Spitfire
grinned. “That was so cheesy I’m gonna puke.”
Red
Sparrow smiled back, shoving Spitfire’s shoulder. “Are we ready?”
“Ready,”
Q answered around a mouthful of pizza.
Spitfire
gulped loudly, swallowing the last of her nerves, and looked at her mentor.
“We’re partners, right?”
“Of
course,” Red Sparrow answered without hesitation.
Spitfire
took one last deep breath, clenched her fists, and then nodded. “Ready.”
*
* * * *
Red
Sparrow told her to act like she was going on stage. So that’s what Spitfire
did.
Instead
of walking or running across the roofs, she leapt and flipped and twisted and
whenever she pulled off a particularly wonderful stunt, she asked Q for some
applause. He happily obliged.
Because
this was her first time, Spitfire stayed in the busier part of the city where
buildings were taller and more plentiful—and more or less the same size making
it easier to maneuver. Red Sparrow took some of the more suburban areas where
staying hidden was harder. Q kept an eye on both of them through traffic
cameras, ATMs, and security systems, anything with a camera pointed toward the
streets.
Out
of sight and in the shadows, Spitfire heard Red Sparrow’s voice in her ear an
hour and two and a half rounds later.
“How’s
it going on your end?” her mentor asked.
Spitfire
stopped her performance and crouched at the edge of the building she was on.
Panting lightly, she looked over the city laid out in front of her, at the
twinkling lights and the people clearing out. The streets were nearly empty. It
was making her anxious.
With
a crowd, people were distracted. She could get away with careless mistakes like
jumping too high or flipping too flamboyantly because no one bothered to look
up. The less people there were, the more likely they were to be alone, and the
more likely they were to notice a flash of yellow against the night sky. She
wondered again why she picked this costume.
She
took a deep breath before answering. “Quiet, I guess. Really . . . quiet.”
“Good.”
Red Sparrow sounded proud, like it was thanks to Spitfire that nothing was
going on. “Keep it up.”
“Um,
for how much longer?”
“Just
another hour or two.”
“Oh,
is that all?” Spitfire muttered.
“What
was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Good.
Now get going.”
After
what felt like hours of flipping and aching muscles, she stopped at another
building for a quick break—this was very different from a stage, in more ways
than one—and did another once over of the city. Then something caught her eye:
a completely empty street of stores, restaurants, and banks.
Suspicious,
she thought.
“Hey
Q,” she said, heading over. She squinted at the street sign. “Check out Crest
Street really fast for me, will you?”
Q
yawned. “You got it.”
Spitfire
smirked. “Tired much?”
“Not
even,” he answered stubbornly. “Crest Street. Looks pretty quiet from here.
Why?”
And
she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to say, “It’s quiet, Q. Too quiet.”
She
took her time with Crest Street, closely watching each store and restaurant and
bank. She was about to move on to another street when a certain jewelry store
came into view. Something inside glittered brightly before disappearing. She
looked harder and saw more glittering before it stopped.
“Q,”
she said. “Check inside a jewelry store called Oracle Jewels on Crest.”
“Checking,
and . . . Duuude.”
“Someone’s
in there, right?”
“And
he’s cleaning it out. Red, what do you want to do?”
Red
Sparrow thought for a second before answering. “Trip the alarm. Get the police
in there fast.”
Spitfire
watched the thief carefully. “They won’t make it in time. The guy’s about ready
to bolt. I think I should—“
“No,”
Red Sparrow said.
“You
don’t even know—“
“You
want to engage.”
“So
maybe you do know.”
“And
I say not to. The police will handle it.”
“But
they won’t make it in time. He’s gonna get away. Come on, just let me do this.
What happened to all that faith you had in me earlier?"
“No.
You may have been doing circus tricks since you were six but you only just
started learning how to fight. You don’t have enough experience to—“
“Come
on, Red,” Q interrupted. “Stop babying her. It’s just a jewel thief. I’m sure
the kid can handle it.”
"'Just
a jewel thief' he says." She sighed. There was a long pause before she
said, “Fine. But be—“
“Careful!”
Spitfire said excitedly, already on her way to the store. “Got it! Check back
later!”
*
* * * *
Tommy
couldn’t believe how easy this was. The alarm system was a cinch to hack and
the jewels themselves were locked up with simple level 2 Chaste-E locks. With a
low chuckle, he threw the final piece of jewelry into his bag and relocked the
case. He tied his bag closed and turned to the door, ready to make his getaway.
“Dude,
sloppy.”
Tommy
jumped at the voice. He looked around but couldn’t see anyone. “Who’s there?”
“Over
here.”
He
jumped again and turned around. There, with one hand on her hip, stood a girl
in a red mask covering half her face and a red, orange, and yellow costume.
She
smiled at him. “Hi. Like I said, sloppy. You didn’t even try to hack the
cameras. Or cover your face. At least you wore gloves. No finger prints.”
Tommy
didn’t exactly know what was going on, but he knew enough to be offended. “I’m
not taking thieving advice from some girl in a costume. What, did Halloween
come early this year?”
“I
knew it!” The girl stood up straight and looked down at herself. “I should’ve
gone with the cape!”
By
now Tommy was thoroughly confused. It must’ve shown on his face because the
girl looked up and said, “Sorry, first time. Refocusing. Now, put the jewels
down.”
He
scoffed. “Really? Or what? You’re gonna give me your cooties? How old are you?
Twelve?”
And
then, so fast he barely had time to react, she flipped across the floor,
tackled him to the ground, and landed sitting on his chest. She was glaring at
him from under her mask.
“I’m
fourteen.”
And
then everything went black.
*
* * * *
“And
Red Sparrow has struck again. Late last night, an unnamed thief attempted to
rob Oracle Jewels on Crest Street but was stopped and apprehended before police
arrived on the scene. The thief was found unconscious outside the store, tied
with Red Sparrow’s signature red rope. However reports say that the hero who
stopped the thief was not Red Sparrow herself, but her sidekick, Spitfire. It
seems that there is not just one, but two heroes watching over us.”
“Got
that right.”
Parker
Carter smiled at the TV, enjoying the comfort of the plush couch underneath
her. Then she took a bite of her fourth slice of pepperoni pizza.
She
sat alone in the loft. Her aunt Jemma left for some job interviews and Quentin
went to work. Parker shook her head. She always thought that for a computer
genius that could hack the whole city Quentin could do so much better than a
part time gig at Best Buy.
But
the city was still new to them. The three of them had just moved in to the
loft. The place still echoed. Things could only get better. Parker smiled at
the TV screen when a picture of a black head with a question mark showed up
with the caption “Who is Red Sparrow?”
Of
course things would get better.
“Hey,
Parker.”
Parker
looked to see Jemma walking in to the loft.
“Watcha
watching?” Jemma asked, leaning against the back of the couch.
“The
fruit of my labors,” Parker grinned. “Not sure how I feel about the whole
sidekick thing though.”
Jemma
grinned. “Don’t worry about it, partner. You did good, kid.”
Parker
smiled. “Yeah. So, how goes the job hunting?”
“Don’t
ask. The real world is so hard.” Jemma sighed and walked away, Parker
following.
Parker
nodded understandingly. “Circus life was so much easier.” She watched her aunt
search through a bag sitting on a tabletop. “Watcha got there?”
Jemma
shrugged. “Just a little something.” She pulled out a small box tied with a red
ribbon and handed it to Parker. “For a job well done.”
She
tugged on the ribbon then lifted the lid and there, sitting on a pad of cotton,
sat a pair of sleek, black sunglasses. She looked up to see her aunt wearing a
matching pair over her eyes.
Parker
smiled. “Explain?”
“We’re
heroes now, you know?” Jemma shrugged. “Living in the big city and making things
safe. Heroes have secret identities. We have to protect ours. Both of us.”
As
she put them on, Parker asked, “With sunglasses?”
“Well,
if you don’t want them—“
“I
never said that. How do I look?” She struck a pose.
Jemma
smiled. “Hardly recognized you.”
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