System Certified Supervillain

Now that it was October, two things were apparent.

One: school was, in fact, in session, and summer was, sadly, over. It took a full month for that to really sink in for some of the more knuckleheaded kids, but it finally did.

And two: it was time to go to the DMA.

Tiff had been off-and-on cycling between looking forward to this and thinking the world might just end. The rational part of her brain told her that the chances of being discovered as a Supervillain were low, and even if someone did find out, there wasn’t much they could do about it.

But teenage brains weren’t always the most rational, and sometimes they liked to freak out as a matter of principle.

What’s this, brain? Make sense? Why do that when you can be full of angst?”

Tiff mooded her way through breakfast and was ready to trauma dump all over her newly-appointed minister and expert in all things social about the unfairness of life and how some people just get to be tall. As if there was a sign-up sheet she forgot to fill out and her height stat was given the leftovers.

But...Candice didn’t show up to Homeroom. She wasn’t in PE and she didn’t join Tiff for lunch. Tiff wasn’t worried. Sometimes, people just had bad days. Maybe she was sick? Maybe she had to stay home to take care of family business?

…among other, darker possibilities that Tiff didn’t want to consider.

So, despite all of Tiff’s incredibly not-worriedness, she found herself traipsing down to the nurse’s office during the final break of the day. For all that Tiff had gone through most of her scholastic career as a confident loner…she was feeling a little lonely.

Sadly, the infirmary did not contain a sassy cheerleader. Nor did the nurse have any idea of Candice’s whereabouts; the older woman only said she hadn’t seen Candice at all today. Tiff very briefly thought about going to all of Candice’s classes to collect her homework, but there was a fatal flaw with that plan.

Tiff didn’t know every class that Candice had.

Not only that, but collecting homework sounded like work, and Tiff wasn’t sure that was a thing friends actually did for each other outside of campy anime designed to generate awkward moments inside the protagonist’s home.

And what would Tiff do if she actually managed to get a stack of homework? She didn’t know where Candice lived. It wasn’t like she could drop it off even if she wanted to…and that didn’t get started on what sort of crappy gift homework would be if Candice was actually sick.

Candice, dear, I know you’ve come down with consumption and it’s terminal, but here’s your calculus homework. Oh, and you have a chemistry exam on Friday.

Tiff snorted.

Maybe the delivery wouldn’t be that extreme, but it still wasn’t on the menu. Unless…could she email it to her? Not that Tiff knew Candice’s email (which could be any number of theoretical options). Now that Tiff thought about it…did she have an email?

Not her common, everyday email she created inadvertently when she made a Google account, which was glorious and in no way going to come back to bite her in the butt in 20 years.

But for her new dungeon core administration? Were those actual emails she was seeing in the TAS? They certainly felt like it. Did that mean that someday, she’d have to respond to them when she could no longer ignore them like they were somebody else’s problem? And then she’d have to use whatever username the System thought she deserved.

Tiff let out a groan.

It was going to be horribly edgy, wasn’t it? Something like or dark.queen.reaper@ohgodpleasestop.

The thought nearly made Tiff visibly ill. Perhaps that was the reason Candice didn’t show up! Her new Class gave her a bad email address and she developed indigestion.

​

“Who peed in your corn flakes this morning?”

Tiff snapped out of her thoughtful trance and saw Amy waiting in the afterschool pickup area. It was a novel experience to see her younger sister so often, but Tiff had to wonder what all her friends thought of Amy’s absence. Did they think she was abandoning them? Was it a phase? What was she going to do about her birthday party? Was she still going to invite them all? That was happening on Saturday! Tiff narrowed her eyes and squinted up at Amy, if only to hide her own embarrassment at nearly forgetting her own sister’s birthday.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow,” Tiff said. Amy’s eyes lit up and then instantly dimmed with suspicion.

“Tiff, for the love of all that’s holy, please tell me those two thoughts aren’t connected.”

Tiff quickly racked her brain for the last thing Amy said and stifled a laugh while feeling slightly grossed out.

“Amy, you don’t even like corn flakes.”

“Not exactly the point now, is it?” Amy sassed right back.”

“No,” Tiff rolled her eyes. “I didn’t pee in your cereal. And nobody peed in mine.”

“So why are you so grumpy?”

“Because Candice wasn’t here today,” Tiff said with a sigh.

“Ah,” Amy said sympathetically. “Sorry, Sis. That sucks.”

Tiff gave her sister a suspicious glance.

“Had enough of teasing me for making a friend?”

“Eh,” Amy shrugged. “That was yesterday. Today’s a new day and a new me!”

“Does that mean you’re giving up the front seat?” Tiff asked with a calculating look. She watched Amy’s face visibly morph with struggle. Eventually she made a pained-looking grimace.

“If…you…really want it,” she said through ground teeth. Tiff laughed. She wasn’t going to take Amy’s precious seat, though she was curious if it would actually physically hurt her as much as she tried to portray.

Victoria eventually pulled up and the first thing she did when Tiff got in was frown.

“Please tell me you didn’t murder anybody.”

Tiff threw her hands in the air, whacking them into the car’s roof.

“I did not murder anybody!” She glared at Amy, who was bouncing comfortably in the front seat. “I’m a little grumpy today, that’s all!”

“If you say so,” Victoria said and let it go. Amy, probably thinking she was being helpful, piped up.

“Candice wasn’t at school today.”

“Ah,” Victoria nodded in understanding. “That makes sense. Relax, Tiff. It’s probably not as bad as you’re thinking.”

“And what am I thinking?” Tiff asked testily.

“Probably that Candice’s Affinity changed with her Class and now she’s a fugitive, on the run from the law, and that there’s a Superhero lying in wait to ambush her around every corner.”

Tiff’s eyes bulged and before she could school her face into something neutral, Victoria laughed.

“I’m right, right?”

“Right,” Amy agreed.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Tiff grumped, but the truth wasn’t so different. After all, Tiff knew Candice was a cheerleader and thus fairly athletic. She could run away much better than Tiff.

“Chances are,” Victoria continued, “That if her Class change was anything like mine, she might have gotten a Stat increase. If that’s the case, it makes sense she’d stay home. It’s rare for Citizens to get Stat changes when they get a new Class, but it happens. I’ve heard it can be just as disorienting as Awakening, depending on how drastic the changes are.”

“Wait,” Tiff frowned. “You didn’t get sick after your Class changed.”

“That’s because I’m awesome,” Victoria laughed. Amy started booing and Tiff rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t exactly disagree.

After several moments, Amy started talking about what she was planning to do for her birthday party. Even though Amy’s birthday was on Wednesday, they were having it on the weekend so she could invite a bunch of her friends and make a day of it. They were going to the trampoline park in the morning, staying for a couple of hours before lunch, then going to laser tag afterwards. They’d finish the day with a pizza party, and if it were Tiff, she’d pass out from exhaustion just thinking about it. But Amy’s friends were a lot like Amy herself, if perhaps not so extreme. They all had a limitless supply of energy to devote to whatever new routine was the flavor of the week, though a few, like Mattie and Priscilla, were more stage than sport.

Tiff always had mixed feelings about going to Amy’s birthday parties. Not because she was jealous of the party itself (which was a real thing when Tiff was younger), but maybe a little bit for how much of a production it was. They usually did a thing, whether that was going to the movies, an amusement park, or like this upcoming Saturday, something with multiple options. And it wasn’t like her parents skimped out on Tiff’s birthdays, spending just as much on equally meaningful experiences, but they weren’t as flashy. One year, they all went down to the LA Zoo, which suited Tiff perfectly. She even got to ride an elephant.

But for Amy’s parties, Tiff could only imagine how tired she would be on Sunday, which made her feel like an old bat. And if she was going to feel old anyway, she might as well take a nap.

​

One of the few perks of Tiff’s downgrade to D status in Might was her newfound ability to sleep anywhere. She didn’t know if that was because her body was perpetually tired, or maybe it just needed more sleep than it used to, but now she could fall asleep even with Amy and Victoria yelling at the top of their lungs along with the radio despite the crappy reception. Of course, that meant getting carried inside like a little kid once they got home, but Tiff’s sleepy mind didn’t care so long as she didn’t need to work her legs as it rebooted. Victoria dumped Tiff unceremoniously onto the sofa, declaring that her good deed was done for the day and went about doing her own thing. Tiff tossed a pillow at her for her troubles.

…The nice thing about living with Might-based Metas was that Tiff could throw virtually anything she wanted at them and it wouldn’t do a lick of harm. Granted, she’d never do something like throw, say, a hammer. But if she did, it would probably bounce off harmlessly as they laughed. But…best not to test that theory, regardless.

Especially as Melissa walked in, taking up even more space than Victoria did. She bent down to pick up the discarded pillow and Tiff swore the house groaned in protest. Melissa bunched Tiff up to the side, who went limp and let it happen, just so she could have a seat next to her daughter. As Tiff fell toward the divot her mom had created, Melissa caught her and ran her hand through Tiff’s hair.

“The weight of the world getting you down?” Melissa asked knowingly.

Tiff let out a huge, dramatic sigh. Some days, she just didn’t know how she was going to make it from one day to the next.

“Tiff?”

“Yeah, Mom?”

“You’re 16,” Melissa said, rolling her eyes. “Come back when you’re 40.”

Okay, maybe she would try that hammer, Tiff thought with a smirk.

“You ready for the trip tomorrow?” Melissa asked. This time, Tiff’s sigh was more realistic. It was more of a resigned huff, really, just getting out the last dregs of wishiwashiness.

“I think so,” Tiff said. Right now, she was about 60% this is going to be great and 40% let me hide in a hole. Melissa pulled her into a hug.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Tiff was wedged tightly against Melissa’s side, but she did her best to nod in agreement.

After talking it over with Victoria the other day, Tiff decided to ask her parents to chaperone the DMA field trip. She’d brought home the permission slip for them to sign just in case they actually wanted to come…which, of course, they both did. Melissa practically jumped at the chance to be part of Tiff’s life and snatched the paper out of her hands. Rick wanted to go, but sadly, he needed more notice to put in for time off. Since Tiff didn’t want to make him pretend it was an emergency, and one of her parents chaperoning was going to be more than enough, she shrugged and told him there’d be time for him to show off later.

That, in turn, led to the all-important question.

What was Melissa going as?

Tiff wanted to scoff and say this wasn’t a Halloween party, but she reconsidered. Melissa did have a valid reason to “dress up,” as it were. The question then being: was she going as Tiff’s mom, or as Brickhouse?

Technically, no matter what she dressed like, Melissa would always be Tiff’s mom first and foremost. But there were pros and cons to both options. For one, Melissa wasn’t really built for dresses. Yes, she owned a few, but even with a slimming A-line or sleek, shoulderless number, Melissa always came out looking more femme fatale than fairytale princess.

No, that wasn’t quite right.

Less femme fatale and more…Hulk Smash. Yeah. That was more accurate. So dresses were only for rare occasions where she needed to look fancy, dress to impress, and simultaneously scare the crap out of somebody.

That left blue jeans and…Tiff shuddered…blouses. Not that there was anything wrong with a good blouse, but Tiff was instantly reminded of the I poop BRICKS shirt and that a certain someone in her class who wanted a woman with a particular body type to step on him. If he saw Tiff’s mom wearing that…Tiff didn’t even want to think about it.

That meant there was only one real option.

​

This was a bad idea. This was a very bad idea. But on the other hand…it was absolutely brilliant!

With everybody staring at her mom, there was no way anybody was going to spare a glance at Tiff! Having her come in full gear was the correct choice, no matter how much it might amuse Tiff to imagine the boys drooling over her mom if she wore something like a t-shirt and jeans.

Not that she actually wanted that, but she could admit that her mom still had it and boys being dumb was funny.

Tiff stood off to the side of the flagpole while the rest of her Homeroom milled about, watching all the truant delinquents try to weasel their way into school without getting tardy. Mr. Hendricks was, of course, there to supervise everybody, since no school in its right mind would simply let a bunch of students hang around in the front parking lot while the rest of school got on with the day. But, since this was the yearly trip to the DMA for all the IPSS students, hers wasn’t the only class. All 4 homerooms were present, and absolutely none of them were staring at her.

Not a single one!

How could they when her mom had rocked up in her white truck that made the buses look small, flung her door open, and leapt out of the cab? She then proceeded to crash down in a textbook 3-point landing, cracking the pavement…and laughing sheepishly as she explained that there were insurance forms to fill out that covered “heroic entrances.”

…because of course there had to be such a thing, with all the posing and grandstanding Heroes had to do on a daily basis!

But, case in point, one of the boys in Tiff’s class was dabbing at his nose to an imaginary nosebleed while murmurs broke out throughout the crowd. Very much not quiet ones. Melissa simply rolled her sleeves up higher, adjusted her hardhat, and gave them a feral grin. And yet, despite her size and exuberance, Melissa handled the crowd of gawkers with practiced professionalism. That made Tiff wonder; was there a class for this? Some sort of super-showoff etiquette? Tiff didn’t think they’d offer it as an elective at school, since so few people Awoke to Heroic Classes, but if there was a private institution? They’d make bank.

Like a driving school, only for aspiring heroes.

On second thought, this was a terrible idea.

And, technically, they already had something like this…and they called themselves Young Justice.

There was only one person who didn’t fall for the ol’ bait ‘em with supermom technique: Candice.

Tiff saw the not-so-peppy cheerleader grumping toward her with what had to be a paint-can-sized Starbucks, looking like she hadn’t slept for weeks. She had deep, black bags under her eyes that no amount of glitter, glam hair, or loose socks could hide. She took a big pull of what Tiff guessed was a frappuccino with extra whip…and kept going. And going. And going. At this point, Tiff was certain Candice was doing it just to show off her impressive lung capacity and not because she was actually drinking. The straw had already sucked out the full line all the way to the bottom of the cup, and it was doing that thing all slushie-textured drinks do where you don’t actually get to drink through the straw anymore and you’ve gotta mush it all around and it’s just not the same.

As well as making that wheezy, sluuuuuuurp sound as Candice’s cheeks sucked in.

“You…good there?” Tiff asked. Candice smacked her lips dramatically, adjusted the shades that were sitting perfunctorily on top of her head, and gave Tiff the flattest, most judgmental stare she could.

“I’ll have you know I memorized a multiplication table last night,” Candice said, matter-of-factly. Now, Tiff might not be fully up to speed on common cheerleader habits, but that didn’t sound like one.

“No, Tiff, that’s not normal.”

Wait, could Candice read minds now?!

“Look,” Candice huffed. “Your rbf normally screams Ice Queen, but you’re looking at me right now as if that’s something I do on the reg, and it totes isn’t. I don’t want you getting any weird ideas.”

“Oookay?” Tiff schooled her face into something a little more…what would be good here? Empathy? Tiff understood the importance of staying up too late while studying. The price she paid for mediocre grades was high indeed. She patted Candice consolingly on the shoulder, which only seemed to make the girl more suspicious of her.

“Sometimes I get the feeling we’re speaking different languages,” Candice sighed. She sighed, which turned into a yawn, and she almost dropped her mega-frap, which would have been a real crime, so it was fortunate she didn’t. “It’s my Class,” Candice eventually explained. “I’ll tell you more about it on the bus.”

“Ah!” Tiff said in understanding. “So your absence yesterday was due to your Class?”

“Yeah,” Candice grinned; a real, genuine smile. Then she tilted her head. “Wait, did you miss me?”

“Yes,” Tiff said earnestly. It was true, she had no problem admitting that.

Candice went slightly pink but grinned even harder.

“Yeah, well, let’s get a seat next to each other and I’ll tell you about it. If I stop to think about it, it’s so cool! And that’s not even getting started-”

At that moment, one of the PE teachers, who was also acting as a chaperone for the 120 kids, blew his whistle loudly. He stood in front of the buses with the teachers and other chaperones, his arms on his hips, trying to look imposing…which wasn’t really working. Not with Melissa standing behind him, a foot and a half taller.

“Listen up!” He barked. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Coach Plumbtree! And this is the Introduction to Powers and System Startup field trip to the Department of Metahuman Affairs! That means each of you are currently taking IPSS and we’re going to the DMA….”

Tiff gently closed her eyes and let out a longsuffering sigh. Was this just how coaches were? Did everything need to be explained with the force of smashing their heads against a wall? Is that why there were concussion problems in so many sports? Or was he just an idiot?

Tiff opened her eyes and stealthily glanced at her classmates.

Scratch that. Maybe they were the idiots.

Half of them were nodding seriously like the dude was spouting truth bombs…while the rest had checked out entirely. Though most of those belonging to the second half were staring at one individual in particular.

“Holy God above!” Candice gawked, having finally spotted Melissa. “Who the heck is that?!”

“Candice,” Tiff smirked, “You’ve met my mom.”

“That’s your mom?!” Candice hissed. “Ain’t no way. She wouldn’t fit in your house!”

“The super suit has a way of doing that, doesn’t it?” Tiff laughed. “Makes her size really pop.”

“Yeah, well,” Candice said, trying to control herself. Her eyes landed on some classmates and they narrowed. “That’s not the only thing popping. Don’t let her get near Davies.”

“Who?” Tiff tilted her head.

Candice sighed, pinched her nose, and pointed to the kid dabbing at his imaginary nosebleed, looking like he ascended.

“Him.”

“Ah,” Tiff said in understanding. “Don’t worry, my mom could fold that kid in half.”

“Assault on a child aside, he’d probably like it.”

“Ah,” Tiff repeated, much more seriously. “That’s a good point.”

​

It took time to herd everybody into the bus. Each bus could hold about 50 people, give or take a few. Each IPSS class had 32 kids, but not everyone was present, and some classes had more or fewer chaperones. To make things easy and to prevent kids from getting lost or stuck in Downtown Los Angeles, each bus took a single class.

Despite this, it still took 20 minutes to load the buses.

Tiff and Candice made their way to the inoffensive middle of the bus, while the various other groups fought over who got the front or the back. The front two rows of seats were saved for the chaperones…but nobody could ever anticipate Melissa VanDyne, who needed an entire bench for herself. The bus driver, who looked like a career man if Tiff ever saw one, took one glance at Melissa, nodded, and kicked the students who were in the third row to the back. Smart man; if anything went down between point A and point B, he wanted to be close to the insurance. Melissa grinned, waved at Tiff, and sat down.

Tiff could hear small talk breaking out around the bus, and, as she suspected, much of it was focused on her mom. Who was she? Who was she related to? Was she available…Tiff stopped listening in. But Candice was curious and Tiff didn’t have any issues with answering real questions, so she gave her friend a rundown…which, admittedly, Melissa had explained herself on Monday, but seeing it in person was a bit different.

As soon as Mr. Hendricks got on board and started doing a headcount, Tiff noticed something strange. Candice sighed, closed her eyes, and started counting along with their teacher. Tiff watched Candice’s lips mouth the numbers silently, and she raised her eyebrow the longer they went on. Not everybody in their class was here today…and yet Candice stopped exactly when their teacher did.

Candice opened her eyes, looking resigned, but Tiff was impressed.

“Okay, that’s cool,” Tiff said eagerly, making a few small claps. “How did you do that?”

Candice gave her a weak, knowing smile.

“My new Class.”

“Okay…,” Tiff nodded. “So it has something to do with math, then?”

“I don’t think that’s everything, but oh boy, does it have something to do with math,” Candice barked a laugh. And so, she went on to explain exactly how her Class had changed…and with it, her life.

​

Candice looked at the family sitting across from her. There was no reason any of this should be feasible, and yet Theophania treated it as the most normal thing in the world. Tiff, bless her, was both sheltered and slightly naive, but Candice wouldn’t hold it against her. As it stood, that petite goth wasn’t the broody little bitch everybody thought; she was just the product of a very peculiar upbringing. She was innocent…in the wide-eyed way kids start and very rarely stay. And Candice was sorry that she ever dismissed the girl without so much as a second thought.

There was a reason Hero families weren’t really a thing. For one, all that fighting didn’t exactly lend itself to settling down with a spouse to raise some kids. For another…the most common way for a Hero to get shunted over to a Mercenary?

Domestic abuse.

Combine a pent-up Super who doesn’t have a proper outlet to direct all their Might, and you end up with a broken partner, in more ways than one. There were horror shows (literally and figuratively) filled with the unspeakable atrocities that went on behind closed doors…but a little age-verification never stopped Candice from a little late-night Google before.

Sometimes she wished it had.

And here was a prime example. An honest-to-god giantess married a normal man.

There was no way around the sheer size difference. If she so much as slipped up, in any part of life…he was a goner. If she had any sort of temper? A flick of her wrist could break down walls. She must have incredible control.

And that brought up a second point.

Both of Tiff’s parents were Sidekicks. Light on the Greyscale. But Tiff and her sister were dark.

Entire history books were written proving that didn’t work out so well. Sure, there had to be exceptions, but Candice didn’t think she’d ever see one in person. Or sit in their living room.

But, as interesting, awe-inspiring, and downright terrifying as all of that was…it paled in comparison to Tiff.

Theophania VanDyne.

The Dark Queen.

As soon as Tiff revealed her status, it was like the System was dying to prove it. A…pressure, for lack of a better word, leaked out of the tiny girl, and it was like she became an entirely different person. No longer was Candice sitting in front of a high school teenager, but a dark lord. A cutthroat mob boss. A no-nonsense, just as soon have you killed as talk to you, genuine Supervillain.

But…Candice said yes. She took the Quest. She completed it. And it rewarded her.

Now, Candice wasn’t nearly as trusting as Tiff. She wasn’t going to go showing off her Class change to anybody until she had a chance to look it over. And she was definitely going to look it over. For one, it wasn’t just a Class, it was a whole-ass job. And, just like everything that seemed to touch Tiff, it was supremely Villain-pilled.

And…weird.

Candice didn’t know what a Tabulator of Legumes was supposed to be and looking it up was on the top of her list of things to do once she got home. She had a disturbingly normal dinner, ate far too much of a lasagna that had no right being as tasty as it was, and went home. But something wasn’t right. Throughout the meal, Candice kept feeling…something.

Like a nervous tick, only without any of the nerves.

The worst part was that she couldn’t explain it, even if somebody asked.

For instance, the garlic bread. While it was delicious, she had no reason to know how many pieces there were at the table. Nor how many there had been when the meal started. Or the exact number of every different piece of tableware. 4 dinner forks, 1 giant-ass industrial-strength fork, 5 salad forks, and the dad ate the lasagna with a spoon, which was weird.

And it didn’t stop at dinner. All throughout the night, no matter where Candice went, numbers kept popping out at her. How many streetlights on the drive home. How many were broken or out of service. It was as if she were compelled to count things.

It didn’t stop at addition, either. On a whim, thinking she was perhaps more tired than she thought, Candice pulled out her math homework. It was a mistake. While she didn’t suddenly know more math than she did before, it was like every bit of math she’d ever learned before was crystal clear in her mind’s eye, begging to be used. Even the equations and proofs they’d gone over last class, which she would normally need at least a few days of studying to fully digest.

Now, it was rote, like she’d memorized it long ago and it came without thought.

To her growing horror, Candice sat down and finished her entire math assignment in the next 30 minutes. Thoroughly spooked, she cleaned up and went to bed.

Or at least she tried.

Visions of mathematical equations swam in her vision like an overused meme and her eyes shot open. She couldn’t rest, wouldn’t rest, until her new craving for math was sated. And it was hungry. She barely blinked and the sun was peeking through her drawn curtains.

Needless to say, Candice didn’t go to school in the morning. Her dad had already left for the day and it was just her mom. Irritated that Candice was taking so long to get ready (and delaying her from playing bridge), she demanded to know what was taking so long.

After taking a look at Candice’s less-than-perfect face, she panicked. After eventually calming her mother down, Candice revealed that she’d Class-upped into…an [Accountant]. It was the best lie she could think of on the spot, and she revealed that her Mind Stat had been raised to B. So her mom took her to a private doctor to get her Assessed.

While Mrs. Peroski was perhaps a touch sad that Candace didn’t achieve a Class or Stat boost that would make them all rich and famous, Candice learned more from that Assessment than she let on.

From a Citizen with C Stats all around, she became a [Grand Vizier] with enhanced Might and Mind. It was only one letter, but now she was B for 2 out of her 3 main stats.

Her Mind stats did not suddenly make her smarter. They didn’t give her any upgraded intelligence or any superpowers. In fact, her new Stats seemed solely interested in helping her remember two things: math…and names. Candice could now, with full clarity, remember every name she’d ever heard. She could instantly connect them to the accompanying face, if she had one, or perhaps a small tidbit of trivia on the person. Like the math, it wasn’t inherently or obviously helpful, but she could already see it as an advantage. Moreso than her upgraded Might.

To her immense disappointment, she didn’t have super strength. According to the test results, Candice was now at the peak of human norms. What a normal Citizen could hope to achieve with a lifetime of training, she could pull together after a few months of mediocre work. The doctor equated her to a dormant Olympian. While Candice found this news quite intriguing, it was her mother, of all people, who seemed upset. The woman complained that the System had “ruined” her daughter by giving her a B. Since she was no longer a Citizen C, she was disqualified from most common athletic scholarships. If only she’d been given an A, and so forth, so on.

The woman hadn’t cared one bit for Candice’s desires to be on the cheer team, nor the joy she found in the atmosphere, the meets, the group. Which, Candice could admit, were dwindling as of late. She gritted her teeth and refused to let her annoyance with her mother show. She plastered on her brilliant smile, taking solace in the fact that somebody she barely knew had given her more than her own birth mother. She had a Class. Maybe…a calling.

If Candice’s mom wasn’t so set on declaring her outrage with the world, even she would have seen the benefit of perfect recall for math and names, and how they fit in with Candice’s life goals. How they’d help her get into any STEM program she wanted, so long as she was willing to learn new things.

But Mrs. Peroski didn’t, so Candice was left wondering what it might be like to have a different family. One with too many sisters, a mom who doesn’t fit through normal doors, and a dad who eats lasagna with a spoon. That somehow…doesn’t care what their kids are labelled by the System.

Because while their Affinities might be divided…their table wasn’t.

¹

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