Today, though, my main focus was on Fine Finds by Fiona, an affordable businesswear collection for professional women debuting in stores across America later this year. I was taking the basic black work suit and dressing it up with stripes, plaids, paisleys, and most importantly, color. Your job might be boring, but your clothes should never be. At least, I tried to work. I kept staring at the flowers clustered around me. It was like sitting in my own personal jungle. My eyes traced over the kaleidoscope sprays with their soft, velvety petals. Inspired, I fished a large pad out of my messy desk and started sketching. Two hours later, I had over a dozen drawings, each one bigger and bolder and better 58

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than the last. I’d been looking for a theme for next year’s spring line. Flower power would be perfect. After all, flowers featured everything that I loved—wild patterns, brilliant colors, sleek designs.

A knock on the door interrupted the flow of my creative juices.

Piper held up three white paper bags that looked like they were ready to pop. “I went to Quicke’s for a meeting and thought you might be hungry. I got you a couple of grilled chicken sandwiches, a Caesar salad, large fries, a dozen cookies, and the biggest raspberry tea I could find.”

I glanced at the clock. Three in the afternoon already. My stomach rumbled. “Thanks, Piper. You’re a lifesaver.”

Piper deposited the bags on my crowded desk. She’d long ago grown used to my enormous appetite, although she thought I had some sort of eating disorder, like binging and purging. Every so often, I’d come into the office to find pamphlets on anorexia and other eating-disorder clinics and programs on my desk, courtesy of Piper. I reduced them to ash, ignored Piper’s prying looks, and continued to eat like there was no tomorrow. I couldn’t exactly tell her the truth—that I was a superhero with a superhigh metabolism. Piper was my friend, but I had a secret identity to protect. The Terrible Triad had taught me the importance of anonymity. I polished off the food in about fifteen minutes under Piper’s watchful eyes. She stuck her head into my office several times that afternoon, probably hoping to catch me hurling into one of the empty paper bags, but I disappointed her by slaving away at my desk.

In addition to my work as head of Fiona Fine Fashions, I also had to attend to my duties and business as Fiera. Being a superhero was just as much about public relations as it was about saving kittens from trees and babies from burning buildings. Most of us had our own Web sites, merchandise, H o t M a m a

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