Page 55 of No Capes

“What was that all about?” D.S. faces me. The purple in his mask glows brighter in the dark.

“Who knows?”Plink.Arielle’s friends have always been irrational, yet harmless, as far as I know.

D.S. looks up. “Ah, cumulonimbus. My favorite cloud.” There had been no sign of rain this afternoon, but as soon as his face is exposed to the clouds, they open and rain pours down, soaking us. Kristen is going to kill me.

“Let’s go.” D.S. runs under the canopy of a nearby willow tree and I follow. Except for a few drips coming down the trunk and the occasional breeze spraying us with water, our spot stays dry.

I lean against the huge trunk, sap sticking to my dress. I need a break from standing in my heels, and I’m not about to sit in the mud. D.S. hovers a few feet away, near the edges of the branches, maintaining a socially acceptable distance between us. I swear I see a spark of something underneath his mask.

“We can go back inside if you want to,” he says, testing me. While he waits for a response, he blows on his hands to keep them warm.

I survey Arielle’s yard for signs of company. A slow melody hums from the ballroom, and the branches overhead shake as the rain picks up, but no one else is out here.

“Could we test my powers?” I ask.

He stretches an ungloved hand behind him, feeling the precipitation. “This isn’t you?”

“What? I can’t make it rain.”

He cocks a dark eyebrow. With his forehead exposed, I catch the full movement—abrupt and dignified, the way I’ve always imagined it. “Are you sure?”

No.“How do I check?” I haven’t had a ton of time to read the comics yet, but I know that starting a rainstorm could be possible.

D.S. stays silent for twenty-four seconds, then asks, “do you know where powers come from, Roberts?”

“I thought nobody knows where they come from.”

“Golden Ace has people who figured it out,” says D.S. “The basics of it anyway, not everything.”

“Powers seem pretty random, to be honest.”

“They aren’t genetic,” he agrees. “They’re a mutation that comes from teaching yourself to be strong. Most people with powers don’t realize they have them, which Ihypothesizeis what shows up on the Super test—if your powers are realized or not. Powers get unlocked and show up when you need them, when you forget how to be yourself, or,” he studies me, “in some cases, when you need to help someone else.”

“Then, anyone can be a Super?” I ask. The wind picks up, and he adjusts the fedora on his head, keeping himself hidden.

“No,” Dark Static replies. “It requires a significant event to unlock them, and even then, some people still won’t develop powers. It’s the perfect combination of timing, will, and a million more things.”

The car crash.

“You can’t wish that event upon yourself either,” he says. “Dudes have died trying. If we could force something major to screw up our lives, we could give ourselves powers. No, it doesn’t work like that. It won’t work if it’s intentional.”

I remember my life after Mom’s death. I spent all of my free time in the pool. All of it. Swimming, water, the peacefulness…those were the only things that could calm me. Swimming helped me survive.

“Swimming… being in water,” I say. “That’s helped me deal with everything for the last three years. Now I can use water to help me in other ways.”

Dark Static takes my hand, gently supporting me.

“I’m about 95 percent sure that’s how it works,” he confirms. “Like powers are a tool.”

“But my mom’s death was three years ago. If that gave me powers, why did Ijustdiscover them?”

“You might not have known when you were using them. And neither did anyone else.”

Except Arielle.“In comic books,” I say, “Supers are usually orphans.”

“There are plenty of orphans who aren’t Supers though,” he counters, “like the Levine kids.”

“Oh yeah?” I push back. “Are you the authority on who is and isn’t Super?”