groovygamers.com

Just as Sylvia is headed to lunch on Friday she gets a text message from Logan.

Interested in having lunch with me?

She blinks at the message, wondering at the little lurch her heart takes.

Sure.  Usual place?

Sylvia purses her lips, still a little miffed by being left out of Mexico.  Who doesn't want a telepath on their team when it comes to international intrigue?  Really!

The dragons will be dining alone if they do.

She heads for Logan's bench.

Logan is there, bundled against the winter chill.  He nods to her as she takes a seat.  "I hear that you and your camp have made progress.  Congratulations."

Something new has come over Sylvia in the past weeks.  Her brush with death, her talks with Rob--she's transformed from the little girl afraid to walk in the city at night to a young woman ready for action--almost suicidally ready for action.  She can look at Logan without feeling the fluttery nervousness of someone feigning maturity, and that confidence allows her to look him in the face and read in his eyes what she can't read through telepathy.  "Thanks.  I'm afraid your warning didn't make any sense to us until we'd already rooted out the information through more direct means.  Do you have anything else with which to tantalize the do-gooders?  Other plots afoot?"

Logan offers her a cookie, "Something has shifted.  The presence of your persistent camp has caused some of the casual participants in mayhem to pause.  That's a good thing I have to assume.  Casual mayhem is less preferable to planned and meticulously executed mayhem."  he takes a cookie himself and begins to chew at it.  "You've changed also.  Something about your manner and bearing.  something tells me you're going to be a formidable woman once you find your direction.  Whatever direction that's going to be."

She smiles at the cookie, or at what she interprets to be praise--hard to tell.  "Do you find planned mayhem more interesting?  Is it just easier to control?"

"It's more predictable and easier to plan against."  He continues to eat his cookie.  "News on one of the forums was that a dragon was spotted flying across the border into Mexico with two passengers.  I assumed it was you and Donnie, but you're here and Donnie isn't.  Another Dragon Lord?"

Sylvia's lips purse and work their way into a crooked expression of measured annoyance.  "No.  That was Donnie.  He had something important to do.

"What forums?  Did they get pictures?"

Logan reaches into his bag and hands her a few printouts of satellite images of Althea and her passengers.  It's not really possible to make out who is on her back, and Sylvia only knows it's Althea because she knows her.  "I'm on some anonymous mailing lists and forums that talk about all manner of paranormal stuff.  you have to sort of wade through the garbage to find the gems, but it can be informative."

"Wow," she says.  "Donnie is an urban legend.

"They must be jaded to strange fliers.  Given the population of flying superheroes, most of these sightings must come down to identification by costume."

Logan nods.  "They get into some pretty hot debates sometimes.  Sometimes it's matter of figuring out who wasn't accounted for in other sightings.  Then who might have been in the area of a picture.  It's all pretty interesting.  There are a lot of cell phone pictures posted, sort of like tagging celebrities.  Being someone in a costume can be less anonymous than most people think."

"Have you seen many reports of paranormals our age?  I bet it won't be long before people have their cell phones trained on us."

"Actually, there are a few.  Some of the discussion threads are calling it the next big paranormal baby boom.  There were a bunch of teen heroes in the late eighties, and now another bunch.  Our generation is going to be very interesting."

"I don't suppose there are any Meetups being advertised.  I wouldn't mind getting a look at the competition."

Logan raises an eyebrow, "No.  Not that I noticed.  If I see one I'll make sure to send you a link."  He shifts to look at her.  "I get the feeling that there will be those who get involved, and those who try not to.  That seems to be the two main paths.  Which path will you follow?"

"Easy," she says.  "I'm committed.  I can't live a normal life like this."

"Well, I guess the question is.  Would you even try?  Having tasted the excitement, would you give it up to just live a normal life?"

"I'm not sure it's an issue of excitement.  I can't stand by while bad things happen to good people.  It's an adrenaline rush, but that's what they make bungee cords for.

"Does involving yourself in all this excite you?  Would you be able to stand back and let things happen if you felt confident someone else would take care of these situations for you?"

Logan squints for a moment, like some distant thought is forming and he's struggling to bring it into focus.  "I'm ashamed to say that I still don't know how I feel about the whole thing.  On the one hand, no matter what any of us do there will be bad things, and they will still happen to people.  Your way, and I mean that in a general way not specifically your way, seems to galvanize some people into greater and greater acts of malice.  Their way has the same effect.  It's a sort of vicious self regenerating circle.  I want to make a difference in the world.  A positive difference.  But now that I've seen this struggle, and know so many of the participants, I know I'm going to end up involved in it.  If I take a side, it will shift the balance.  Historically, when the balance shifts too far one way or the other it snaps back the other way violently.  And weather it snaps back to the side of good or evil, bystanders get caught in the backlash."  He turns to look at her.  "I have been thinking that a life spent keeping the balance might end up being more productive on the whole.  If you follow what I'm saying?"

"Only in abstraction," she says.  "I'd like to know how you define good and evil."

"If I could tell you that I probably wouldn't be thinking about it so much."  He says with a smile.  "I think evil is going to end up defined as any action that is for purely selfish reasons and without regard for the damage or danger it causes others.  And good is by degrees everything else."

A seed of bleakness dulls the shine in Sylvia's eyes.  "I don't believe anyone has to balance good with evil.  I don't think it's overwhelming good that induces evil.  I think we're all tempted to it, inevitably.  I think the only thing that keeps us from doing exactly what we want in service to our own interests is our fear of reprisal.  At least, that's how it works for most people, most of the time."

She forces a smile.  "You didn't bake these cookies, did you?  They're really good."

"I did actually.  It's one of the things I do to relax.  It's orderly, and requires adherence to a set of steps and attention to time.  And yet it still produces elements of chaos.  Have another."  he says, extending the container towards her.

Sylvia takes a cookie, nibbling away at its crispy, buttery edge.  "Logan?  You know my family, so you know I ask this with the greatest love and respect.  I'm only curious because--well, because it'll lay some questions to rest.  Are you heterosexual?"

"I guess.  Having not actually had sex, I have to assume that my arousal patterns, which are all related to girls, suggests I am.  I don't find any males particularly arousing."

Sylvia nods and lets that rest.  She'd harbored some hope she could tell Donnie Logan was gay and thus slay the green-eyed monster forever.

"You defy stereotype," she says.  "I don't mean the baking.  I mean the restraint.  I thought boys your age were supposed to have only one thing on their minds, and I don't mean cookies or social ethics."

"My mother is afraid that I'm on the road to being a sociopath.  I can't really talk about what I'm seeing with them.  They'd insist I take a side.  I can't fault them for that, but I also can't hope they could understand my desire not to.  Sometimes I'm not sure you understand either, but I appreciate that you aren't trying to get me to."  He look s towards her again, "It means a great deal to me.  That you can at least pretend to not be bothered by it."

"I can respect your position.  Sometimes I wish I weren't so publicly associated with the others.  I'd be more effective working through the layers of this school like you, listening and watching and waiting for the hint that something is about to happen.  Ambiguous politics give you more options.

"Besides, I thought sociopathy implied a lack of ethics.  You clearly have them.  You're clearly willing to act on them."

"Thank you.  Most people that know anything about me assume I don't have any ethics.  It's nice to know there is at least one person that realizes I do."

"See, that's what I don't get.  Why would they assume you don't?  Even Hitler would have told you that everything he did he did for Germany.

"The worst people I've known--"  She taps her temple.  "--thought the world deserved what they were doing to it, that they deserved some kind of fair compensation for their injuries.  They thought they were in the right.

"I'm not saying that's you.  I'm wondering what it is you do that allows you to get in so close to the people who've decided the world owes them something."

"I think they see me as some sort of peer.  This is going to sound a little egotistical, but I think part of it is that they want to show off to me.  They know I'm smart, and that I don't seem to be in your camp.  and so they want to share the genius of their plan.  Which is what saved Don Howell.  He was smart enough not to see me that way.  But even he seems to have had his confidant.  Someone he trusted with some secrets, even if it was just a way to twist him to his ends.  And in no small way I have to assume they realize that I think the world would be better off with a lot less people.  And they see that as some badge of evil.  I'm not saying they're logical about the way they decide to trust me."

"They're stupid," Sylvia says.  "At best they're mediocre.  It's easy to kill.  It's easy to cause chaos.  I'm not that smart, or powerful, and if I wanted, I could cause World War III.  Building something, keeping people safe, making something amazing--if they had the skills they think they do, they'd take that on."

"And some of them are.  They're kids, essentially.  Maybe they'll mature.  Maybe they'll take the psychological damage inflicted on them by their so called peers badly and become problems to society.  I'll be interested to see how it turns out."

Sylvia fights down the urge to rail against the short-sighted self-centeredness of the villains they've encountered.  She's become obsessed by the topic.  She's been consumed by her powers and her role.  She's like a shellshocked soldier:  every loud noise is a gun or a bomb, and she's always listening into the night for the next explosion.

But she's learning to hide it.

"Sometimes I wish you didn't have to worry about keeping your distance.  Dave misses you, I think.  You could go to the movies with us or join us for some seriously geeky D&D."

"I hope to patch things up with Dave someday.  when we're both older and have figured out what the hell we're doing.  I do miss the gaming, but I think it's best to stay away from you when Donnie is around.  I might make an appearance at the movies though.  Several of the drama gang want me to go."

Sylvia makes a face at the mention of Donnie.  It's not Donnie per se who offends her as much as it is the notion that she should limit her acquaintances to accommodate his possessiveness.  And she's feeling particularly peevish about it this week.

"The drama gang?  What's your connection to them?"

"I do sound work for some of the productions.  I originally joined the drama club my freshman year in the vain attempt to be accepted by some social group and maybe attract a girl."  He smiles.  "It didn't work out.  But, I find being useful for the productions makes me happy."

"Did you ever get involved in the drama side of it?  Acting?  Singing?  From what Ginny tells me, all you need to be successful in high school theater is a good loud voice and proper posture.  Everything else is attitude."

"I tried a couple of times my sophomore year, but didn't have it.  Technical things interest me more anyway.  What about you?, or is your sister enough actress for the family?"

She shakes her head.  "I'm the jock.  I used to be pretty good at floor work and balance beam, but lately it's less about sticking the landing and more about dodging bullets, or at least punches.

"I miss it.  Sometimes I think about rejoining the pep squad--"  She sounds embarrassed to admit it.  "--just to get that sense of precision and focus back."

"They are taking new people.  They want to have a squad for the spring sports and of course basketball.  I'm sure you could get on the squad."

"I have so many other things to do," she says.  "And imagine someday I'm sending my résumé to the Defenders, and it says, 'Pep squad, 2008-2011.'  They look at my not-excellent grades and an undocumented work history, so to speak, and they write me off as a bimbo."  She pauses and frowns.  "I wonder if they'll ask for my SAT's."

"Considering the Avengers apparently have a felon, an ex-cop, an ex-super hero in disguise, a clone, and what most of the people who follow this stuff seriously are calling an alien.  I don't think you need to worry about what's on your resume.  But with the rest of what you have going on I can see why you'd pass."

"I thought the Avengers were kind of cool when I read about them, but when I sent my letter, not a one of them responded.  Instead they sent a retiree.  I mean, sure, he's the Hulk and all, but I was hoping some active-duty superhero would take the time to send a postcard.  Or a tee-shirt.  Something.  Like, 'Sorry to hear about the murder and mayhem, kid, but we can't make it.  We gots our own shit to take care of.'  I swear, if I ever get into this business, I'll at least write back."

Logan shrugs.  "I'll make sure to make my super hero friends get a good PR agent."  he says.  "I would assume there are lots of logical reasons why.  I can think of a variety of forensic reasons to not respond directly.  And I can't imagine any of them are actually very good at dealing with children.  And, where they go the media swarms.  I'm guessing the media at your house would probably not go over with your moms well."

"We're not really children, are we?" she says, lips twisting.  Then she shakes her head.  "Someday I'm going to be really bitter about my lost childhood.  All that money the moms were saving for my college education will have to go into therapy."

"I'm serious.  Maybe you should try out for the pep squad.  You might enjoy it.  Pretend you're doing an investigative story and you're undercover.  Might make it seem less like work and more fun."

She thinks about practice, the discipline of doing something physical that doesn't involve hurting or getting hurt, just jumping around and shaking her pom-poms and shouting till her throat hurts.  She thinks about a million billion iterations of "Sexy Back."  She makes a face.  "That idea has both good and bad points.  Then again there's less than one semester left.  How bad could it be?"

She pauses and continues, wryly.  "After all it's not like anyone on pep squad has died.  They've had severe injuries, and they've gone insane and homicidal, but no one's died yet."

"Actually, I should admit that part of the reason I made the suggestion was to have a reason to come to some of the events."  He says with a grin, offering her another cookie.

She accepts the cookie with the pleasure of a connoisseur.  Sarah's cookies, sweet and full of surprises.  Logan's cookies, beautifully formed, Martha-Stewart perfect disks of uniformly golden buttery dough--with a heart of dark chocolate that offers no bitterness, only a mellow, clear, confusing hint of sweetness.

"You'd come for the cheering?  Not to admire the raw athleticism of your peers?  From what I hear, when Jakob charges the basket, it's like watching Shaq gallop over a field full of munchkins."

"We already covered this.  I'm not gay."

Sylvia laughs.  Logan has transformed, over the course of months, from the guy she was probing for evil to the kind of friend who feeds her cookies and makes her laugh.

"I never saw it as a question of sexual orientation.  I've always been the kind of person who'd rather be out there on the field, no matter how much I suck, than watching from the stands.  Like, Carolyn watches a lot of football, but I don't get watching sports.  At least, I didn't.  Then I read this article on mirror neurons, and it all started to make sense to me.  Apparently watching someone do something will trigger the same neurological processes--emotions, physiological responses, accreting neural pathways--that doing something does.  I guess that's why porn works, too."

"It's a better answer than those guys being great actors and film makers."  Logan says.  "I don't really watch sports, but I like to show school spirit.  Being part of the student body, cheering on your classmates.  Watching the cheerleaders in those short skirts, and knowing they have shorts on and you can't see anything, but watching a hundred or so other people crane their necks to try."

Sylvia makes a face.  "Seriously?"  She finds herself considering the subject of granny panties.  "When I was on the squad, I didn't hang much with the cheerleaders, but I caught enough in the locker room to know that they lead far more exciting social lives than I'll ever aspire to.  Your name was mentioned more than once, but it was hard to keep up with the roster of hot properties, so to speak.

"Apparently the deal with being a cheerleader is that flaunting your desirability is part of the sport.  Pretty, popular girls get their pick of the gene pool, and they know it.  So I guess, as long as it's mutual sexual objectification, it's all right."  She sounds dubious, though.

"I should find someone to serve as a surrogate girlfriend.  Like a sort of fire break.  It might cut down on the conversations that inevitably end with me saying, 'No'. and then being asked 'why not?'."

Sylvia looks skeptical.  "How are you going to find someone who'll be your surrogate girlfriend without expecting everything from you that a girlfriend would?"

"By finding one that really only wants one thing.  Cash.  But that would certainly take the romance out of it.  Maybe I'll learn to secretly enjoy the attention and it will go to my head."  He smiles and shrugs.  "But, I'm serious.  You should try out."

Sylvia dimples, probing the girlfriend idea.  "If you pay someone not to have sex with you, is she still a ho?

"As for pep squad, sure.  Maybe.  Just to keep my skills clean.  Flinging yourself from rooftop to rooftop after someone who can teleport does not encourage good form."

"Ho is such a pedestrian term."  Logan fakes a shiver, "Or course if the truth were to get out everyone would label me as gay jumping to the conclusion that if I paid a girl to pretend to be my girlfriend I must be gay.  Greg would be happy, this is starting to sound like one of those sitcoms."

Sylvia shrugs.  "There's nothing wrong with being gay, but this is Oak Park, land of irrational criminals.  I'm afraid you'll get the beat-down just because you're a high-profile loner.  Right now people regard you with awe and respect, but if you start to advertise your vulnerabilities, the predators will close in only because taking you down will establish their dominance.

"Of course, I will personally enfeeble anyone who messes with you, but almost no one around here knows that, so the threat offers no protection."

"Well, in the interest of complete honesty I'm touched.  And, I would almost certainly complicate the life of anyone that denied me your company through malicious action."

She thinks that over and then beams at him over the edge of her cookie.  "Thanks."  That's almost the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to her.