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“So what can I do for you?” He asks.

“Well,” I bite my lower lip. “Pepper …”

His eyebrows rise. I speak each word slow and deliberate. “I was hoping you could help me out.”

“Help
you
out?” He bursts into a chuckle. “I can try, but I hardly know how I can help you. I’m the one here who—” He stops, bringing his hand up to his chin then pointing a finger at me. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?” I ask suspiciously. He checks the time again. 3:43.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. What do you need?”

“I was wondering,” I start, but then I remove all questioning and doubt from my voice. If I’m going to get what I want, I need to demand it with authority. “I need you to tell me if you’re designing a Hero suit or a Retriever suit for me.”

His eyes narrow.

I hold my gaze. “Or maybe you aren’t designing me a suit at all?”

His chest deflates at my bold statement. “Honey, don’t say that. You’re getting a suit.”

“Which one?”

His eyes shift from my left to right. “I would lose my job if I told you.” He scratches his head and looks at the floor. “Of course I might lose it anyway.”

“What does that mean?” I ask. Pepper has been the sole designer of every Super suit since before I was born. From super high-tech Hero suits to basic-training suits and even sometimes doing consultations with human costume designers. His lightweight firefighter’s design even won him an honorary Fire Chief award in NYC.

“You’re the best,” I tell him. “They don’t even give you apprentices anymore because no one wants you to stop designing their suits.”

“I am the second best,” he says while studying his fingernails. They are painted purple with black King City crown decals. I have a ton of those decals at home. “Aurora was the best. She retired fifty years ago after having me as her apprentice for twelve years.”

He raises his head and meets my gaze. His eyes are solemn, no longer the excited and joyful eyes I’m so used to seeing. “She contacted me yesterday, after fifty years of retirement, and said she’s coming back.”

“What for? She can’t take her job back, can she?”

He shrugs. “She could if she wanted to. I don’t know why she’s returning. We haven’t spoken in years. She used to send me friendly Christmas cards but that stopped a while ago.”

“Did you maybe do something to make her mad?”

He shakes his head. “Never. She was my mentor. I look up to her and I’ve always shown her as much respect as I would to President Might.”

I bend down and pet Chewy. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

It’s amazing how quick I am to comfort others in the midst of my own emotional turmoil. Unlike Pepper, I actually have something to worry about. He’s probably freaking out about an old woman who wants to visit and have a latté. “Where does she live?”

“Some island in the middle of nowhere. She’s always been pretty reclusive. Which is why I’m so worried I feel like my head is going to explode.” He presses his fingertips to his forehead and takes in a deep breath.

Chewy bites my fingers and I jerk my hand away. “When will she get here?”

He sinks into a barstool at his sewing desk and rests his chin in his hands. He stares at the wall. “Tomorrow.”

“I find out my results tomorrow too,” I say. Maybe in his saddened state he’ll slip up and let his expressions show me my fate. I sigh and plaster a really pathetic frown on my face. “Tomorrow will probably be the worst day of my life, huh?”

Before he can answer, the entire computer wall comes to life. News Reporter Tina Tallow appears on the screen along with the words breaking news scrolling across the bottom repeatedly in an endless marquee of bright red letters.

“The increase of villain activity near Central grew to a horrifying level this morning as Heroes have captured an unknown villain responsible for the murder and mutilation of Sara Sommer.”

Pepper turns to me with an open mouth. I return the gesture as we watch the broadcast.

Tina’s brows furrow in disgust as she reads the words on the teleprompter a second before she says them aloud. “Sara Sommer worked the night shift in maintenance and was found in a trash compactor with her fingertips sliced off. Heroes believe the villain who captured her was trying to use her identity to gain access into Central but his attempts were unsuccessful when security monitors analyzed that the fingerprints did not contain live power.”

“Oh my god,” Pepper says, his hand covering his mouth. He looks at his own fingers and protectively closes them into fists as he mutters those same three words repeatedly to himself.

On the screen, Tina continues. “Hero Nyx Nightly captured the villain after embarking on a six-mile chase through the canyon pathways that surround Central for human tourists. Retrievers secured the perimeter and ensured the safety of all humans who were around. Thankfully no one else was hurt. President Might will hold a memorial service for Sara in the Atrium starting at seven which is open to everyone who knew Sara and would like to pay their respects. In addition, all Heroes will be in attendance.”

The screen turns off. “All Heroes?” I ask in disbelief. “They never summon all Heroes together for anything. She must have meant
most
Heroes. I mean, some of them have to be on guard, ya know?” I look at Pepper for confirmation.

“This is a tragedy.” He pulls a purple handkerchief from the inside of his jacket pocket and dabs at his eyes.

“Did you know her?” I ask.

“No, but that doesn’t make it any less of a tragedy.”

“Why would a villain want to get inside Central?” I think aloud. After today, I know firsthand how much it sucks to be denied access into one area of Central. I can’t imagine why a villain who’s been cut off from every locked door would want to break in.

Pepper sucks in a deep breath and quickly exhales. “Six miles,” he says, throwing his arms into the air. I straighten in my chair as he jumps off his and crosses the room in a flash, dropping the wet handkerchief in his wake. “Six. Miles.” The room thunders out an echo as he yells the words in his deep voice. “That is unacceptable.” Turning on his heel, he looks at me. Daggers of rage shoot from his eyes. The air around me sharpens as his power intensifies.

He points a finger at me. “You.”

For one paralyzing moment I fear he will accuse me of somehow being involved in this.

“You scored higher on Speed Aptitude than any Super has in a
century
. You could have prevented this.”

“I—what?” The examiners simply nodded and thanked me the day before my birthday when I performed a series of aptitude tests prior to my exam. I know I’m a faster runner than my brother is but I always figured that’s because I’m smaller and lighter. Am I really the fastest out of everyone?

Pepper paces with his head in his hands. “The attacks are happening more in the last two weeks. They are closer to home. An innocent Super died today.” He stops a few feet in front of me. “You should be Hero.” His hand grazes my cheek as I stand dumbfounded and unable to speak. “You should have been a Hero,” he whispers.

My heart stops. My throat fills with a ball of pure pain. I manage to force a few words out of my mouth. “What are you saying?”

Pepper’s hazel eyes fill with sorrow. “You need to leave now.”

I swallow, taking a step backward as my heart shatters into a million pieces. That’s it then. I’m not a Hero.

I have nothing left to live for.

Pepper’s hand closes over mine as I grab the door handle to leave. I can’t look at him, not like this. “What?” I say through clenched teeth while staring at my reflection in the door.

“Don’t just accept your fate,” he says. “The world needs you.”

“There’s nothing I can do.” I summon enough power to shove him away from me. He tumbles into a shelf of fabric swatches.

“Is that what they taught you in Hero school?” He says, straightening his ruffled suit as I wrench open the door and step into the corridor. “Or has someone forgotten Hero rule number three?”

I ignore him as I break into a run, wanting nothing more than to collapse in my bed and cry. But ignoring only gets me so far, and soon I’m thinking of his words as I sprint through miles of underground tunnels with nothing around me but my own thoughts.

Hero rule number three:

Heroes never give up.

Dad and Max aren’t home when I arrive three hours later. I hadn’t intended to run for so long but once I got going I didn’t want to stop. Stopping means a return to reality—a chance to catch up with everything you’re trying to leave behind. Stopping is for the weak.

But I kind of had to stop once I wore a hole in my crotch.

The thin fabric of my sweatpants only held up for so long as my legs ran speeds that are apparently faster than everyone else. I’m grateful the guys aren’t home to see me crash through the front door, drenched in sweat with saggy pants revealing my hot-pink underwear.

When I’m showered and wearing whole pieces of clothing again, I sink into the couch and flip on the television. And—wow—is it seven o’clock already?

A candlelit vigil displays on the screen as the camera pans across a crowd of my peers all gathered in a stunning display of sympathy for Sara Sommer. I hurl myself off the couch and dash into my closet for something decent to wear.

Royal purple leggings and a silver tank top with the King City crown logo call out to me from my closet. I slip into the clothes and tousle my hair, trying to shove it into a messy bun. The roots of my hair are significantly, horrifyingly, darker than the ends. I arrange my hair in such a way that the lighter bits hang out in a distracting way. This is the worst time for someone to notice my darkening locks.

The sound of Max’s Hero alarm goes unnoticed at first. I hear it so much lately it’s become like background noise. But then I realize—mid lip-gloss applying—that Max isn’t home. So why would his alarm come to the house MOD?

Multiple ignored calls to Max and Dad have me flipping between staring obsessively at the MOD and checking the television for any sign that they are getting my messages. The camera shows Dad often, standing somber, respectful, and completely ignoring the BEEPR on his wrist.

I don’t see Max in the crowd, but the GPS locator on the MOD shows him ten feet away from Dad. Why isn’t he checking his BEEPR? Why is no one here to accept a call to duty? The alarm continues to wail, awaiting Max to press his thumbprint to the screen and accept the mission.

Suspected villain—south kapow entrance. secure door is ajar. Secure the area. only Heroes may pass.

I could tell him. I could run out of the house, take the KAPOW, and tell Max about the mission.

Or I could do nothing. Max can suffer the consequence of betraying his oath to protect. He would be ruined.

Just like me.

Hero Training. I must think like a Hero to be a Hero. What would a Hero do in this situation? I don’t have to think long about it—I know the answer.

My solid white training suit will have to do.

Once again I’m in my closet, exchanging my King City tank for my suit. I’ll need to look badass when they’re taking my photo and interviewing me as the first regular Super to capture a villain, so I pull out the messy bun and let my hair flow loosely around my shoulders. The dark contrast of my hair on the suit looks badass indeed. Too bad the dark and light colors of my suit and hair are switched. I pull my black facemask over my eyes. Step into my boots and hear them click themselves into place.

I’m not even nervous.

The south KAPOW entrance is one of only two doors in the KAPOW tunnels that lead outside of the canyons without the use of a pod. This particular door is square and barely taller than I am. They use it for maintenance and transporting deliveries to the human world. All I know is that it’s securely locked and monitored just like everywhere else in Central. So why it’s open in front of me, I don’t know.

With my legs in a secure stance and my arms free to attack, I push the door open further so I can see what waits on the other side. A gust of wind knocks me against the wall as the door swings wide and clangs into the stony canyon surface.