“You need to shave your legs,” Amy said. “It’s like sandpaper.”

“Gross,” Eric said, not taking his eyes off the game.

“It gives me the heebie jeebies,” Amy said. “Like the squeak from markers on a whiteboard, or sneakers on the gym floor.”

“Tiny hairs, sticking in the underside of your feet,” I teased her. “And when you walk, you’re walking on them and pushing them in deeper…”

She pulled her feet away like I was on fire, and shivered visibly, putting her book down. My victory.

I kept going, “And when they grow, they’re pointed in the wrong direction, so they grow in…”

Amy made incoherent sounds of protest.

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work that way,” Eric said.

“It probably doesn’t,” I said. I let my head loll back onto the armrest behind me, no longer fighting with Amy. “We’re supposed to take a science class next semester.”

“Chemistry, biology, or physics,” Amy clarified. “We got the sheet in homeroom. Also art, music, or drama.”

“Same. What did you pick for science?”

“Chemistry. Physics is the advanced kids’ stream and is supposed to be hard, and in biology you might have to dissect frogs. No thank you,” Amy answered. “Ick.”

“I thought there would be some parts of it that are useful for health and fitness, first aid.”

“You’re thinking about cape stuff,” Amy said.

“Naturally.”

“And I bet you picked drama.”

“Art,” I told her. “At least for the one year. I’m not very good at it, but there’s emblems and icons, color mechanics, costumes, poses and posture…”

Amy snorted. “Of course. I picked art too, mostly by process of elimination. So we might be in the same class.”

“Cool.”

She picked her book up again, and I let her, watching as Eric fought a dragon, poorly.

I watched his second and third attempts before starting to give tips.

“You want to avoid that.”

“I know I want to avoid it, but where am I supposed to go? The ground is lava.”

“Maybe don’t spend so much time near the part of the boss fight where there’s lava.”

“Oh my god,” he groaned.

“You keep on taking the big hits when you stop to heal. It takes too long.”

“And if I don’t heal I die.”

“So don’t get hit.”

“Oh my god,” he groaned, again. “Do you want to try?”

“You’ll have to tell me the controls,” I said. I got up out of my seat and walked over. Still on the couch, Amy reclaimed the blanket and tucked it under her feet. I smirked.

I only barely had the controller in my hand when the door opened.

They were all wearing civilian clothes, but my impression of them was that they were ‘the team’. No longer just the adults. They looked serious, instead of looking like family. Mom, Dad, Uncle Neil, Aunt Sarah, and Crystal.