“My entire life leading up to that basketball game, I wanted so horribly badly to be a hero, you know? It felt like I thought about it every ten minutes. My parents were heroes, my cousin was, my aunt and uncle were, and everything revolved around it. I wanted it all so badly it hurt, and I didn’t have it for years. Then that basketball game, and I wanted to have something where I was the hero, where I got to stand out. Because sometimes it felt like my parents didn’t see me.”

“That’s been a recurring idea. You talked about their missed visits.”

“They came a lot,” I said. “I know that. My dad more than my mom. But every missed visit was a horrible thing, and the little things mattered so much when I had nothing else. Um. And this basketball game, I know I’ve talked about this before. But this one girl kicked my freaking ass. In my face, knocking me over, intercepting every pass, blocking every shot. She didn’t have any powers or anything, she was just… good. Better.”

“A lot of things came into focus in that moment.”

“Every time she or one of her teammates beat me, I could see the look of disappointment on my parent’s faces. In the other moments, they looked so bored. And it was boring, you know. No parent wants to go sit through amateurs doing badly at a high school sport.”

“Some do.”

“Anyway, she hit me hard, she said something about me being overrated, and it was the last straw. Realizing I stood so far from family, that I didn’t want to be there, but I had no other choice, my sternum was hurting where she’d driven her elbow into me. I got my powers.”

“Years of wanting, leading up to that.”

She’d caught the thread I’d wanted to lay out. It helped. “And then just under three years as Victoria-slash-Glory-Girl. And then… hospital.”

“Which was undeniably horrible.”

“It felt like my life had ended. No hope or help. All I had to cling to were those memories of the three years I was Glory Girl. I could look back, think about every fight, every encounter. The ones I was proud of. The ones I wasn’t. I had so much regret, replaying events out in my head. It started with me thinking about—that moment when it all went so wrong. When she messed with my emotions, then going backward.”

Emotions caught me. I made my expression a scowl, because I was worried what my face might do otherwise.

“I was such a stupid fucking kid,” I said.

“That’s allowed,” she said.

I shook my head. “Not when you’re as strong as I am.”

“And you want to be emotionless? I don’t know if that’s healthy.”