“I-I’m sorry,” Emily said. “I should . . . I should go.” She clutched her backpack close, arms bunching up by her sides to ward off the attention. Jezebelle’s hand loosened.

“Fangirls already?” she said as she walked on past.

The laughter had Emily burning up, but that kernel of anger warred with the relief of being free.

Who, she wondered, was that? Public Masks were common enough, but to go around on campus . . . She wanted to smack herself. Power Day was only days ago. She’d gotten her powers then—how could she forget so easily that others would be gifted powers on that day too?

So a new local Hero, then.

She paused to watch the crowd slowly moving on, the name of a potential threat hovering at its center.

Emily hoped that it wouldn’t come to that. But if it did . . . maybe seeing the girl’s smug, too-confident facade break when she came face-to-face with an angry Teddy would make things better.

She swallowed. That thought hadn’t been very kind. There was no reason for her to dislike or distrust Jezebelle. They weren’t enemies; they were only on different sides of a line that Emily planned on crossing.

That was no reason to be antagonistic.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Voluntary

Finding a place to volunteer was actually very easy.

Emily’s first stop had been to a thrift store, not only to see if they needed some help, but also to pick up some essentials for Teddy: a few hoodies (Teddy found one with a bear on the front that she immediately grabbed, even though it was a men’s hoodie and about four sizes too large) and some shirts and shorts and some pj’s. Emily even found a few blankets and a blow-up mattress that had been patched up a few times. It was cheaper than buying a new one, though, so she added it to her stuff.

It took some pacing to build up the courage to ask the nice older lady behind the counter whether or not they needed help. As it turned out, the thrift store was operating just fine, but the soup kitchen across campus was usually staffed in part by students, many of whom had graduated.

Emily paid for her things, thanked the old lady profusely for the discount she added for “such a nice single mom,” and walked out of the place with her face steaming and Teddy asking some very loud and inappropriate questions all the way back to their dorm.

The soup kitchen was a little building near the campus and set up in an old office block with some ratty apartments above it. The people waiting around for a bite to eat were surprisingly young. Not the destitute people Emily had been expecting, but students who were maybe on the wrong side of the poverty line.

Finding the person in charge was simple enough.