She didn't know how she had arrived at this place. She didn't know why she was here, or even where this place was. But she had been here before, many, many times, so she wasn't frightened.
That is, she wasn't frightened too much.
As always, she lay flat on her back. She could hear the faint, familiar, rhythmic sounds, like the clickety-clack of a distant train on rails. But she couldn't see a train. She couldn't see much of anything at all. The glass blurred her vision.
She was surrounded by glass, thick glass. If she thrust out an arm, or kicked up a leg, she could almost touch it.
It didn't bother her, being inside glass. She knew the glass protected her, although she wasn't quite sure what she needed protection from. Where she lay was soft, warm, and comfortable. The air was sweet to breathe, her stomach was full, she was safe and warm and secure.
But no. Something was happening, something that had never happened before. A streak of red-orange color slashed through the blackness. Then there were more streaks. She heard a new sound, a crackling sound. And now she was getting warmer. Warmer and warmer. Too warm.
Fire! There was a fire. It was getting bigger, it was getting warmer, it was moving closer. She tried to cry out, but she had no voice. She tried to move, but her body wouldn't obey the signals from her brain.
She was trapped! She would be consumed by the flames. She would cease to exist. She experienced a new feeling --- fear --- and she began to shake.
Maybe it was the shaking that woke her. With an effort, she forced herself to sit upright. She was still trembling, and despite the light breeze that came through her open bedroom window, she was sweating.
But there was no fire. From the faint glow of a streetlight that filtered through her curtains, she could make out her shadow in the mirror that hung on her closet door. There was her desk, and her bookcase, and her old collection of Barbies. In the confusion of her mind, the one clear thought was she really should get rid of them, perhaps donate them to some needy kids. At the age of fourteen, she no longer played with Barbies. And the ones that she did have weren't the valuable collector's items.
She switched on the lamp, climbed out of bed, and on shaky legs made her way to the mirror. The reflection was reassuring. She was a little pale, and beads of sweat had accumulated on her forehead, but she was still Mary Chandler. Five feet and a smidgen, a hundred and five pounds. Two eyes --- unspectacular brown --- two ears, one nose, one mouth, straight teeth; straight hair, dark brown. Not quite as developed as most other girls her age, her chest still almost flat. Still, she was pretty much normal and ordinary in every way --- except for the fact that she kept having the same dream again and again, at least once a month, sometimes more. The cave, the soft sounds, the blackness --- she was accustomed to that. But this time something new had been added --- the fire.
She was calmer now, but all that sweating and trembling had left her very thirsty.
Water from the sink in the bathroom wouldn't do. She wanted the cold, fizzy kind that was in the refrigerator. She tiptoed down the hall, holding her breath as she passed her mother's bedroom. Nora Chandler had a sixth sense about her daughter --- she always seemed to know when Mary got up at night.
Mary went down the stairs, through the living room, and then through the dining room. In the kitchen she switched on the bright overhead light, went to the refrigerator, and took out the bottled water. She poured some in a glass and drank it thirstily. Then she poured some more.
Next to her own room, the kitchen was her favorite place in the house. She liked the wallpaper, with its pattern of daisies and sunflowers, and the yellow-and-white checked curtains. Pots and pans hung from hooks in the ceiling, and in the center was an old-fashioned carved wooden table with four chairs. In the kitchen, Mary could pretend that she lived in a country cottage in the woods, not in a unit in a Fawcett City cookie-cutter townhome community.
Her mother had put a lot of work into this kitchen. On one wall were wooden shelves she'd found at an antique fair, and on the shelves were photographs in antique frames. With the glass of water still in her hand, Mary went across the room to look at the pictures.
She'd seen them a zillion times, but they always made her feel good, sort of cozy. They were mostly photos of her, at every age, sometimes alone, sometimes with her mother. And there was a photo of her mother alone --- her graduation picture from the university.
There was only one photo of her father. He looked so young --- probably because he was young, only twenty-four when the picture was taken. He was so handsome in his military uniform. For the umpteenth time, Mary wished she could have inherited the blond hair of both parents instead of the stringy brown hair she'd somehow gotten.
She wondered what he would look like now. She could never know. He'd died, less than a year after that photo was taken, just a month before she was born. He didn't die in a war --- there weren't any wars going on when he was in the Air Force. It was just a dumb plane wreck at sea, her mother told her. If he'd died in a war, they would have had medals and certificates to remember him by. But because he'd died in a regular accident, they had nothing, not even a grave to visit. There were no other photos of him either, not even a wedding photo of her parents. Her mother said there had been a fire in the attic of the house where they lived, before Mary was born, and every picture, every memento of Nick Chandler had been consumed in the blaze. Maybe that was why fire had come into Mary's dream this time, turning her dream into a nightmare.
The photo she was looking at now, the only one they had, didn't tell her much about her father. It was a formal, posed picture, like the photos taken for the school yearbook, where everyone looked fake. Their smiles weren't sincere. She searched his face for something, anything that might reveal his character, but it was hopeless. She couldn't see anything of herself in him, either. She wished she could make some sort of connection to him. But as hard as she would stare at the photo, he remained just a nice-looking man, a complete stranger.
When she was younger, she used to ask her mother questions about him, but she never got very satisfying answers. Was he nice? Yes. Did he tell jokes? Sometimes. Could he turn cartwheels? I don't remember. What was his favorite flavor of ice cream? Strawberry, her mother had told her. But then, another time, when she asked the same question, her mother had said chocolate chip. It bothered Mary that her mother's memory was so unclear.
She put the photo back on the shelf and moved on to the window. Was there a full moon tonight? she wondered. Her best friend and neighbor, Tanya Carlson, once told Mary that there were legends about full moons, that weird things could happen then. People could turn into werewolves, or have visions, or just go crazy. About two years ago, when she'd first started getting these weird dreams, Mary had told Tanya about them and Tanya had suggested that maybe the full moon was responsible. Mary had never checked to see if the moon was full on the nights when she had the dreams. She never took Tanya's stories very seriously --- her friend had a wild imagination. But she decided to check on the phase of the moon anyway.
Drawing back the curtain, she looked at the sky. Finally, she found the moon, peeking through some trees. It wasn't full; it was only a narrow crescent. So much for Tanya's theory, she thought to herself, feeling vindicated.
As she let the curtain drop, she became aware of her mother hovering over her. "What are you doing up at this hour?" Nora Chandler asked. She placed a hand on Mary's forehead. "Are you feeling all right?" Mary didn't know what her mother expected to learn from her forehead. As far as she could remember, she had never had a fever in her life.
"I'm okay," Mary told her mother. "I just got thirsty."
But now her mother's voice became more anxious. "Did you have that dream again?"
Mary had once told her mother about the dream, and she'd regretted it ever since. Nora had interrogated her about it, asking for all the details Mary could remember. And now, anytime Mary woke up in a bad mood, Nora would ask her if she'd had the dream again.
Mary didn't feel like answering questions now. "No, I just woke up and I was thirsty," she lied. Walking across the kitchen to put the empty glass in the sink, she started to return to her room. But she paused by the collection of photos. "Mother..."
Her mother had opened the refrigerator and was looking inside. "What?"
"Why don't you ever tell me about my father?"
There was a brief silence before Nora responded. She closed the refrigerator without taking anything out and turned to face Mary. "What do you want to know?"
"Nothing in particular. I just wonder why you don't talk about him."
"Because... because I don't like to look back, Mary. I don't want to dwell on the past, and neither should you. What's done is done; it's over, finished. Why should we torture ourselves with our memories?"
"But I don't even have any memories!" Mary declared.
"So much the better," Nora said. "You can look ahead to the future."
But moments later, lying in bed, Mary considered her mother's attitude. She could understand and appreciate Nora's desire to move forward, not backward. But it still didn't explain her silence about her late husband. Most people liked remembering happy times in the past, even as they enjoyed life in the present and looked forward to more good times.
Of course, it was possible that her parents' marriage hadn't been such a happy one. When she thought about how many of her classmates came from divorced homes, she realized how unpleasant some marriages could be. Maybe Nick Chandler hadn't been so nice. Or maybe he and Nora just didn't get along very well.
But even if it had been a crummy marriage, even if Nick Chandler had been a creep, he was still her father and she wanted to know more about him. Was her mother ever planning to tell her anything?
Maybe Nick Chandler wasn't really her father. Maybe Mary was the result of an affair her mother had been having with another man, and was too ashamed to admit it.
Mary realized that it really didn't matter who her father had been. She just wanted to know who it was. What kind of man he was.
Drowsiness was beginning to overcome her, and she didn't fight it. Maybe she'd dream about her father--- her real father whoever he was --- tonight. It would be better than dreaming about that cave, especially now that there was a fire in it.
But she fell asleep and dreamed about nothing at all.
"You ready to go, Mary?"
Standing in the door, Mary Chandler looked at Tanya Carlson. They had been best friends since forever. Or at least since kindergarten, which for fourteen-year olds, really was forever. The two girls were just about eye to eye, but that was with Tanya standing a step down on the porch while Mary was still inside.
Not only was Tanya half a head taller than Mary, but she had also developed faster, showing curves in places where Mary didn't even have places yet. She was athletic, always excelling in gym class. She always moved with an easy grace, as if she was dancing. Add to that her long straight golden hair, and it wasn't hard to imagine Tanya as a cheerleader, which she had been in middle school.
Meanwhile Mary hadn't gone out for any kind of athletic activities at all. She wasn't a total klutz --- she was far from the last player picked for sides --- but she was also far from the first. And while she wasn't an ugly girl, she considered herself to be merely pretty.
"No, I'm not ready, Tanya," Mary answered her friend's question. "But thanks for asking."
How could summer vacation be over already? Back in June, it had seemed as if it was going to last forever, sure that she would never say "Wow, this summer has gone by so fast." Yet here she was, saying, "Wow, it's gone by so fast."
Mary grabbed her red backpack from the chair beside the door and slung it over a shoulder. Turning her head, she called back over her shoulder, "Bye, Mother."
"Bye, dear. Be a good girl," the answer came from inside the house before Mary closed the door.
Seeing the grin on Tanya's face at her mother's daily send off, Mary rolled her eyes. "You'd think she could come up with something new for high school."
"Yeah, mothers," Tanya agreed with a shrug of her shoulders. "Almost as bad as big brothers."
Tanya's statement reminded Mary that while she was an only child, Tanya had a brother. "Where's Rick?" she asked as they walked toward the sidewalk, glancing over at the Carlson house next door.
"Yuck! He's waiting for a friend to come pick him up. You think he wants to be seen with two freshmen?" Rick was a junior, two years older than the girls.
Mary had been hoping that Rick would be with them today. It was the first day of the school year, the first day of high school for the girls, and she wouldn't have minded having an older and more experienced person showing her around.
It would be even better if he could drive them to school. But while he had turned sixteen in the spring, his parents wouldn't let him get a driver's license until he took Driver's Ed at school. A sensible precaution, in her opinion, though of course that didn't keep her from wanting her own driver's license on her sixteenth birthday.
And even if he did have a driver's license, he would still have to get himself a car.
She'd known Rick practically all her life, and she'd had a crush on him --- though of course she wouldn't admit it to anybody, especially to Tanya, even though Mary was sure Tanya suspected. Tanya thought any girl who liked her brother was stupid and crazy; Mary thought she'd probably feel the same way if she'd had a brother of her own. But she really did like Rick.
Unfortunately, he avoided her almost as much as he avoided his sister. At least, when he wasn't teasing them. There had been a time when that seemed to be his favorite pastime. At least when he wasn't playing ball with his friends. Like Tanya he was very athletic, he had made varsity in both football and basketball both of the previous two years. This year he was hoping to move up to the varsity in one if not both sports. Though to listen to him tell it, he was going to lead both teams to the city championships.
Personally, Mary thought he'd be lucky to make the varsity. He wasn't one of the biggest and strongest of the boys in school. Though among the cutest...
The Chandlers and Carlsons lived closer to Hillcrest High than they did to Parkside Middle, so the girls had decided to walk rather than ride their bikes on this first day.
Mary realized that Tanya had just asked her a question. "Huh? I wasn't listening."
"Duh! Earth to Mary."
"Sorry. I guess I'm just nervous. First day of school and all that."
"Yeah, sure. Like I was saying, you should have seen Tiggy this morning." Tiggy, short for Tiger, was kitten Tanya had received over the summer.
"Why? What'd he do?" When a friend's cat had littered, Mary had wanted a kitten as well, but her mother claimed to be allergic to cats. Mary had visited Tanya just about every day over the past month to play with the little gray ball of fur. His coloring didn't match the name, but Tanya wanted the kitten to grow up into a big tough cat. Mary, like Rick, thought the name a little too pretentious. They'd settled on Tiggy, at least until he grew up a little more.
"It was like he wanted to go to school with me. After breakfast, I found him trying to crawl into my bag." She patted the blue backpack slung over her shoulder.
"So, did you bring him along?" Mary craned her neck and tried to peer into her friend's backpack.
"Of course not!"
"Maybe you could let him go to school for you," Mary said with a laugh.
"Wouldn't that be nice!"
"As long as he did your homework as well."
"Yeah, right."
There were more kids as they approached the school. Some of them recognized Tanya and called out or waved. Not as many called out to Mary.
"You think you'll have any classes with Brenda?" Tanya asked, looking over at a group of girls clustered around a blonde, none of whom had waved at them.
"Oh gawd," Mary answered, following Tanya's gaze, "I hope not. I had at least one class with her every year ever since the first grade."
"What's the matter? Don't you like Brenda?" Tanya's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Hah! If she moved to Australia, she'd still be too close." Mary didn't care for Brenda, but she could take her or leave her. Preferably leave her, but for some reason which Mary had never quite figured out, Brenda seemed to really hate Mary. Did Brenda still bear the grudge from the fourth grade, when Mary had beaten her out in the spelling bee?
"Yeah, I hear that." Though not a major target of Brenda's hate, since they'd been on the cheerleading squad together at Parkside, Tanya had no more affection for Brenda than did Mary. "Mars might be far enough."
"Hah! Try Alpha Centauri." The two girls had been in science together the previous year when they covered astronomy. "That would be almost far enough."
"Yeah," Tanya agreed. "Almost far enough."
The first hour of the first morning of the new school year was taken up with the new student orientations. Class schedules, locker assignments, stuff like that. Then came the first of their classes.
This being the first day, it wasn't very hard. Mostly a matter of getting the textbooks and class guides and reading lists.
Then came lunch. As they had arranged before going off to their first classes, Mary and Tanya met just outside the cafeteria entrance. Together they went in and joined the line, grabbing trays and utensils, sniffing suspiciously at the aromas wafting out of the kitchen.
"What is this stuff?" Mary asked, looking down dubiously at the latest addition to her tray.
Tanya hardly spared her tray a glance. "It's the same stuff we had at Parkside."
Mary snorted. "That's easy for you to say." She looked up from her tray at the people ahead of them in line. "You know," she mused, "Somehow I'd hoped they'd have better food in high school. This does looks like the same stuff, just more of it."
"Yeah, right," Tanya answered with a sneer, turning around to look at Mary. "What planet did you say you were from?"
"Come on," said an impatient voice behind the girls. "Get moving."
"Sorry." Mary followed Tanya down the serving line and finally out into the eating area.
She spotted a familiar face in the crowd. "Hey! There's Rick." She started to take a couple of steps in his direction.
Tanya grabbed her arm and stopped her, nearly dumping Mary's lunch onto the floor. "Are you crazy, Mary? Those are all upperclassmen. You think those guys are gonna eat with freshmen?"
Mary looked over at the group of older boys and remembered that in high school freshmen were considered the lowest form of life, somewhere below pond scum. "Yeah, you're right." She followed Tanya to where some of their friends from middle school were sitting at a table. Some of them, she hadn't seen since the start of summer vacation. Two of them slid aside, making room for Mary and Tanya.
There was a lot of catching up to do while they were shoveling down their food. Swapping stories of what they'd done over the summer. Sharing stories about the teachers they'd heard from their older siblings. All the cute boys in their classes. But all too soon it was time to get ready for the first classes of the afternoon.
Mary's first class after lunch was Math. The highlight of that class was the cute boy who sat one row in front and one seat over. He wasn't one of her old schoolmates from Parkside, so he had to have come from some other middle school. She noticed him when he looked back at her as she answered roll call. Roll call finished without her catching his name; apparently his name had come before hers.
Before she could work up her nerve to ask his name after class, he was gone with one of his friends.
Mary and Tanya were together for the last class of the day, English. Not only was Tanya with her, but so was that cute boy she'd noticed earlier in her math class. This time she paid attention to roll call and learned that his name was William Atkins.
Afterward the final bell, Mary and Tanya walked together to their lockers, exchanging greetings with classmates, old and new. Then the two friends walked home, talking about their first day of high school.
Even though Tanya talked about the cute boys she'd spotted, Mary made no mention of William Atkins, the boy in her Math and English classes. Neither did Tanya. Mary wasn't sure whether to be happy that Tanya didn't have her eyes on him or to question her own taste since her best friend apparently didn't consider him all that cute.
Mary didn't turn to go up the walk to her door. Instead, she continued down the street. "Ooh, I gotta see Tiggy."
"Mary! You just saw him yesterday."
"That was yesterday. This is today."
"I swear, you must think he's your kitten."
"You know Mother won't let me have my own kitten." They turned off the sidewalk toward the Carlson's door.
Tiggy was sleeping --- as cats, even young ones, were wont to do whenever they have a spare moment --- in Tanya's room, nestled in between a couple of T-shirts on the bed. "That little guy sleeps more than my brother," Tanya said when they eventually found him.
"Ooh, how's my little Tiggy?" Mary cooed to the kitten as she began rubbing his chin.
Tiggy woke up, yawned and stretched, and began rubbing his head against Mary's hand, purring softly.
Mary resumed scratching his chin. Tiggy responded by licking her hand. "Oh, you're hungry, aren't you? Aunt Mary'll feed you."
"Mary!" Tanya tried to sound indignant. "He's getting too fat as it is."
"No, he's not." Mary kept scratching Tiggy's chin as the kitten resumed purring.
"Yes, he is," Tanya snapped back, her voice climbing in pitch a little, giving it a girlish quality.
Mary knew she was being childish, as well. And her real reason for having invited herself into the Carlson house had nothing to do with the little ball of fur, adorable as he was. She just wanted to be here when...
It was as if Tanya was reading her mind. "I know what you really want," she said. This time there was a bit of a smirk on her face. "Rick won't be home till supper. He's got a team meeting. You know, football."
Mary hadn't considered that. She tried to cover her disappointment by continuing to pet Tiggy. "That doesn't mean little Tiggy has to starve until then, does it?"
"I guess we can open up a can." Tanya shrugged her shoulders as she turned for the stairs. "I wish you cared as much for Tiggy when it's time to clean his litter box." Mary picked up Tiggy and followed Tanya to the kitchen, cooing softly to the kitten.
Opening the cupboard under the sink --- Mrs. Carlson had strong feelings about not keeping the cat food together with the people food --- Tanya pulled out two cans. "Which shall it be today? Fish or chicken?"
"Which do you want?" Mary asked the ball of fur in the crook of her arm, scratching it under its chin again.
Seeing that she wasn't going to get any help from Mary, Tanya put one can back in the cupboard and kicked the door shut. Opening a drawer, she got out the can opener. "Mary, you wanna fill the water bowl?"
"Okay." Mary set Tiggy down and picked up the water bowl. Carrying it to the sink, she dumped out the contents, rinsed it out, filled it with fresh water, and set it back down on the floor. The kitten sniffed it then flicked his tail as if he was disgusted that it was merely tap water instead of the fancy bottled stuff.
Picking up the food bowl, Tanya dumped the contents of the can into it.
Tiggy buried his nose into the bowl as soon as Tanya set it down next to the water bowl. "See, I told you he was hungry," Mary said.
"He's even worse than my brother," Tanya responded, throwing the empty can into the trash. "Eat and sleep. Sleep and eat. That's all either of them ever do."
"Oh, he's not that bad." Mary tried to scratch him under his chin again. Tiggy pulled his nose out of the bowl long enough to move around to the other side of the bowl before resuming his eating, flicking his tail in the process.
"C'mon, let's let him eat in peace," Tanya said.
"Don't tell me you've got homework already."
"No, of course not! But you've spoiled Tiggy enough for today." She led the way upstairs to her room.
"So, what's your big goal for this school year?" Mary asked, once they had made themselves comfortable. "JV cheerleader?"
"Nah." Tanya tossed aside the T-shirts and rearranged a pillow before plopping back down on her bed. "You know the one thing I really wanna do?"
"What?"
Tanya smiled. "Get my ears pierced."
Mary perked up. "Really?" The two of them had been talking about it all the way through middle school and their first year of high school, but their parents hadn't approved.
"Yeah. My parents said I could this year." Tanya sighed. "But I have to have it done right. By a real doctor, not at one of those mall places." She sighed again. "And I have to pay for it myself."
Mary slumped onto her pillow. "Oh, that's tough."
"Tell me about it." Tanya sighed. "I already have to pay for half of Tiggy's food."
Mary had the same dream again that night, complete with the fire.
But it wasn't quite the same dream. Oh sure, she was in the cave again. And again there was a fire. This time, however, she was not alone.
There was a man with her. An old man.
Even though she didn't recognize him, she felt no fear. His flowing robes, white hair, bushy eyebrows, and long beard made her think of Gandalf the Gray.
He had a long staff in one hand, which he waved around to punctuate what he was saying. Mary tried to hear what he was saying, unable to read his lips, but the words were too faint, drowned out by the clickety-clack of the train or whatever it was.
And by the crackle of flames.
The old man continued talking and waving his staff. He seemed to be saying the same word over and over again, seemingly oblivious to the fire. Mary wanted to warn him, tell him to get to safety. She tried to move toward him, but her body refused to function. She tried to tell him, but her mouth wouldn't work.
Tanya Carlson came for Mary again that morning. As they reached the street, a woman Mary had never seen before came out of the townhome next to the Chandlers, on the other side from the Carlsons. She waved at them, and Tanya waved back.
"Who's that?" Mary asked.
"She moved in on Saturday," Tanya told her. "Her name's Monica Jackson, and she's an artist."
"She looks like an artist," Mary said, turning to get another glimpse of the woman. Her hair was a kind of red that no one had ever been born with, and it stuck out in all directions. She was wearing some kind of shirt and pants printed with leopard spots --- Mary wasn't sure if they were pajamas were real clothes. "How do you know her?"
"I saw the moving van, so I came over and introduced myself. She's very cool, and she showed me some of her paintings. They're weird. She makes jewelry too."
"Is the jewelry weird?"
"I don't know, I didn't see any of it. Maybe we can go over there after school and she'll show us some stuff. She said I could come by anytime, and bring friends."
Mary marveled at the way Tanya could met people so easily. Mary didn't think she could ever go up to a complete stranger and start talking like Tanya did. It wasn't that she was shy; she had no problem speaking up in class or meeting other kids. It was just... well, she really didn't know why she had these funny feelings about adult strangers.
"I had a strange dream last night," she told Tanya, changing the subject as they walked on toward school.
"What kind of dream?" Tanya asked.
"Oh, it was nothing," Mary said, momentarily forgetting that she'd once told Tanya about her recurring dreams.
"Was it the old one, with the cave and all that?"
"Yeah. I don't know what it means." She shrugged her shoulders. "If it means anything at all."
"I haven't been able to find out what that means," Tanya told her. She'd read some books on dream interpretation the previous year. "There was nothing about caves in any of the books. I heard about a Web site for dream interpretation, and I'm going to check it out."
"Something new happened last night," Mary said, "and the night before. There was a fire. That was never a part of the dream before."
"A fire!" Tanya pondered that. "Interesting. I'll bet it's got something to do with puberty."
"You think everything has something to do with puberty," Mary pointed out. She determined not to mention Gandalf the Gray. There was no telling what Tanya would say if Mary were to say that there had been a man in her dream and she had no desire to find out.
"Well, it's a pretty big deal," Tanya said. "Your body's changing, your hormones are going crazy, emotionally you're a total wreck."
"But I'm past that!" Mary complained.
"You're not completely past that," Tanya said with a smirk. "If you were, you'd be going through menopause."
Sometimes Mary wished Tanya didn't read so much. She groaned and picked up her pace a little. Unfortunately, with her longer legs Tanya had no trouble keeping up. Fortunately, Mary was able to change the subject from dreams and puberty to other things. She was feeling a little more cheerful when she arrived at school.
The second day of school started off on a definite downer. Mary's first period class --- which had been skipped the day before to make time for student orientations --- was History.
The subject itself didn't bother Mary. But just as she found a desk and sat down, a gaggle of giggling girls walked in. And in the middle of the group was Brenda Jennings.
Perfect Brenda Jennings. Blond curls immaculately coifed on her head. Surrounded by the usual gaggle of adoring sycophants. Most popular girl at Parkside Middle School. The head cheerleader the previous two years.
Mary let out a soft sigh. So, it was not to be. Four years of grade school and four years of middle school having at least one class with her, and the streak was going to continue for at least one year in high school. Mary sighed again and busied herself digging a notebook and pencil out of her bag.
Unfortunately, Brenda had seen her. Brenda lifted her nose high, sniffed once, and then wrinkled her nose as if she had just caught a whiff of something like a skunk, only nastier. She said something to her friends that drew a round of giggles, then found a desk near the back and sat down. Her friends took whatever seats they could, as close to Brenda as possible.
Fortunately, Brenda ignored Mary for the duration of the class. Mary ignored Brenda just as hard.
Then came the bell, and it was time to move on to her next class. Brenda and her cronies moved down the hall as a group, making Mary wonder whether they had pulled some strings to get their classes together. She really couldn't imagine having all of her classes with her friends, even Tanya. What would they have to talk about if they sat through the same classes every day?
Though come to think of it, she hadn't seen much of that group the previous day, so maybe they were in the majority of their classes together. Which suited Mary just fine. She could do with seeing as little of Brenda Jennings and her clique as possible.
The rest of her classes were a repeat of yesterday. The next two days passed more or less uneventfully, or at least as uneventfully as the first week at a new school can pass, as returning students settled into the familiar routine and new students started getting a feel for that routine. Old acquaintanceships were renewed and new ones were forged.
Though Mary still hadn't gotten up the nerve to give William Atkins more than a passing greeting between classes.
As usual, Tanya was waiting outside the cafeteria at lunchtime when Mary got there, reading some of the flyers posted on a bulletin board. Mary called out a greeting and continued walking toward the line snaking out of the cafeteria entrance.
"Hey, Mary," Tanya called out when she heard Mary, "check this out!"
"What?" Mary --- who, since Tanya's brother Rick still hadn't deigned to notice the new girl in school, had been thinking about how to ask William Atkins to "help" her with her math homework --- stopped, turned, and walked back to where Tanya still stood by the bulletin board. She started to read the flyer Tanya was pointing at and then stopped. She turned and stared at the girl who until that very minute had been her best friend. "A shrink!" Mary snapped, "Thanks a lot, but I don't need a shrink!" She turned and started toward the cafeteria again, fully prepared to eat lunch alone.
"Yeah, but look at this." Tanya's finger moved down to a line that read:
Mary turned back to the flyer and followed Tanya's finger. Hmmm. Maybe an answer to that weird dream of hers? That was intriguing. Still... "But I can't afford a shrink," she protested.
"Yeah, you can." Tanya's finger moved down to line that read:
"I'll bet he..." --- Tanya's finger moved up to the top of the flyer --- "uh, she can tell you what that crazy dream of yours means."
Mary's eyes followed Tanya's finger yet again. "Dr. Dominique Vasquez, huh? You really think she can help me?"
"Hey, what do you have to lose?"
"Hmmm... I don't know, Tanya..." Mary turned toward the cafeteria yet again. "That stuff's just BS anyway."
This time Tanya came with her. "Think about it, Mary. At least go for that free initial consultation. If that doctor just shovels you a load of BS then you can just tell me all about it."
"I don't know," Mary repeated. She joined the line, still not sure whether she wanted to eat with Tanya.
Tanya joined the line directly behind her. "C'mon, it'll be fun."
Mary grabbed a tray. "I'm glad my dreams are such a source of entertainment for you."
"C'mon, go for it." Tanya remained with her, grabbing her own tray.
"If you're so into it, why don't you go for it?"
"Yeah, you're right," Tanya admitted. "Forget I mentioned it."
Mary forgave Tanya. It wasn't as if she could eat with Rick or any other upperclassmen, and as for William Atkins, he still hadn't even bothered to acknowledge her existence. And having a friend to eat with was better than eating alone, even a friend with a warped sense of humor.
Mary Chandler had Friday the rest of the afternoon and the evening to herself, as Tanya Carlson' family was going out to have dinner with an uncle who lived across town. Mary's mother was still at work and wouldn't be home until later. Mary went home, dropped off her books, had a quick bite to eat, wrote her mother a note, and headed off to the mall to kill a couple of hours.
Reaching the mall, she saw the marquee at the multiplex across the parking lot advertising a movie she'd been wanting to see. Like most people her age Mary didn't like going to the movies alone, but Tanya had expressed absolutely no desire to see this one. And as for Tanya's older brother Rick... hah! He still hadn't even acknowledged that she went to the same school as he did.
She decided that she was going to see the movie anyway, and she didn't care if any of her friends saw her alone. She had survived the first week of high school and deserved a reward. She entered the multiplex, bought a ticket and then a medium box of popcorn and a large soft drink, staked out a seat in the darkened theater, and curled up to lose herself in a fantasy world for a couple of hours.
As she watched the movie, she wondered what it would feel like to have William Atkins sitting beside her and sharing a jumbo bucket of popcorn. She still hadn't worked up the nerve to talk to him, despite being in two classes with him.
The movie turned out to be a bit of a disappointment. Certainly not as well as the movie in her mind, the one with William beside her. Leaving the mall, Mary headed for home.
She was a couple of blocks from the mall when she found herself approaching a man walking in the opposite direction. She moved closer to the wall in order to give him a wide berth. He moved closer to the street. Then, as they passed, she felt strong hands grasping her body and she was being dragged backwards.
She struggled to get free, but the man was too strong for her. And too big. Her feet left the ground, leaving her without any leverage.
She tried to scream for help, but a hand clapped over her mouth, stifling any sound she might have made. She tried to kick his legs out from under him, but the few kicks that did land did no damage, her sneakers much too soft.
Biting down hard on the hand over her mouth, she was rewarded by a yelp of pain and a loosening of the grip. She squirmed out the rest of the way and began running.
She didn't dare look back, but she didn't have to. She could hear him behind her, his longer legs giving him the advantage despite her initial lead. She had to get away? But how? Where?
She turned the first corner, into a narrow alley.
She had run about half a dozen steps into the alley before she realized that it was a dead end. There was no way out, except for the way she had come in, and that nasty man was out there waiting for her. Panting for breath after the brief sprint, she looked around. What was she to do?
A voice from somewhere in the back of her mind told her to say the word.
What word? No one had ever spoken to her in her dreams. There had never been anybody else in her dreams.
No, that wasn't right. There had been the old man. Gandalf the Gray, Mary thought of him. He had been mouthing the same word over and over again.
She turned to leave the alley, only to hear the man's approaching footsteps. Now what?
SHAZAM. That was the word Gandalf the Gray had been trying to say! SHAZAM, she thought again. Where did that word come from? What did it mean? "SHAZAM!" she whispered, without really expecting anything to happen.
As she spoke, a bolt of lightning descended from the heavens, striking Mary. But this was not an ordinary lightning bolt. Instead of electrocuting her, it transformed the fourteen-year-old Mary Chandler into the World's Mightiest Girl.
"Damn bitch!" She hadn't drawn blood, but it still hurt where she had bitten him. I'm gonna teach her, he promised himself as he ran after her.
He smiled to himself when he saw her turn into the alley. He knew that it was a dead end; he had her trapped now. Slowing down to a walk, he continued to the alley.
Reaching the corner, he whirled around and ran in.
Just then, there was a blinding flash of light from somewhere ahead of him, within the alley. Momentarily blinded, he didn't see the girl making her way back out of the alley. Going at full speed, he ran into her.
Being in the middle of it, Mary hadn't really seen the bolt of lightning strike her. But she felt a warm tingling sensation over her entire body, energizing her. Energizing, and somewhat arousing. Suddenly she wasn't tired any more. Even though she no longer felt any shortness of breath after the sprint into the alley, she continued to breathe a little more rapidly than usual.
By the time she saw the man coming into the alley after her, it was too late to get out of the way. She could only stand and watch as he slammed into her at full speed.
The impact didn't even push her back a single step. Instead, the man bounced off her, almost as if he had hit a brick wall.
Stopping his backward motion just short of falling on his ass, he shook his head once to clear it and looked to see what he had just run into.
He was surprised to see a girl standing in the alley. But not the girl he had just chased in here. This one was taller. And older. Instead of T-shirt and jeans, this one was wearing a short red dress with yellow trim and a yellow lightning bolt down the front.
Regaining his balance, he couldn't help smiling. He didn't know what had happened to the first girl, but this new one more than made up for it. Definitely better. The sheer top clung to every curve of her body. He could see the swell of her breasts, almost as if the top had been painted on. At the same time the short dress displayed most of her long shapely legs. Overall, she projected a stunningly sexual and athletic image, one that made her seem dramatically more powerful than any woman he had set eyes on before.
He couldn't help himself as his eyes swept upward once again to dwell on her dramatic breasts. They were the firmest and most perfectly rounded breasts he had ever seen, except perhaps in a fantasy drawing in a comic book. The fabric of her dress was so thin that every rounded curve of her remarkable breasts was visible as they jiggled ever so slightly with each rapid intake of breath. They seemed to be set unusually high and were widely separated as they sat on top of what appeared to be a strongly muscled broad chest, at least for such a young woman. Looking down her body further, he admired her flat stomach and tiny waist, the grid of her abdominal muscles flexing visibly as she stroked herself, almost as if she was playing with herself, totally oblivious to his presence.
Well, two could play that game! He stepped confidently forward to meet the girl. Looking up at her face, he was momentarily dismayed that she was a few inches taller than he was. Well, that simply meant that there was more of her for him to play with. He reached out and grabbed her breast.
Surprised that the big man had simply bounced off of her instead of knocking her on her butt, Mary looked down at herself and received another, possibly bigger --- no, definitely bigger --- surprise.
Gone were her T-shirt and jeans. In their place was a tight red dress with a tiny skirt. And what was inside the top of that dress? They couldn't possibly be real! She reached up to feel the two large full mounds tenting the sheer red fabric.
Not only were they real, but they were hers. Finally, she had breasts! And they were superb!
Feeling herself through the sheer fabric, she could tell that she wasn't wearing a bra. Nor did she seem to need one. The two full mounds stood proudly on her chest, seemingly unaffected by gravity, on either side of a yellow lightning bolt that dived down into the deep valley between them.
Still surprised that the big man had simply bounced off of her instead of knocking her on her butt --- and even more at the change in herself --- she didn't see him as he came toward her again. But then, he reached out and grabbed hold of her breast.
She was too shocked to realize that his touch was lighter than her own, far lighter. "Don't touch me there!" Putting a hand on his chest, she tried to push him away.
And succeeded.
She was again surprised when he went flying away from her. Though probably not as surprised as he was as his back slammed against the wall ten feet behind him. His legs buckled and he slid down to the ground.
He'd had enough. It was one thing to bounce off the girl, but he was not about to let her get away with throwing him across the alley with some cheap martial arts trick. She was going to have to pay for that. Playtime was definitely over. He was going to have to hurt the bitch and hurt her bad. Shaking his head again to clear it, he slowly got back up to his feet.
She was simply standing there with her hands on her hips, looking almost as stunned by the events as he was. Well, he was going to teach the bitch a lesson. His hand went into his pocket, and out came a closed fist.
Still playing with herself, she didn't move away as he came toward her again, raising his fist up over his head. His thumb pressed the button on the switchblade at the same time as he started to raise his arm.
He'd only intended to threaten her with the blade and then use it to cut away her dress, but as he brandished the weapon the girl suddenly moved. Instinctively, he started to bring his arm down. However, instead of moving back, she had stepped forward. The point of the blade struck the top of her left breast, dimpling in the soft flesh.
When he raised his arm, Mary tried to take the opportunity to dash around him. Too late, she saw the knife blade in the upraised hand. Before she could reverse direction, the arm descended.
The blade struck her chest above the heart. But the knife didn't cut her dress. The point merely pushed into her soft flesh about an inch before bouncing back.
Mary knew that it should have hurt. But it hadn't. If anything, she'd felt a pleasant little tingle. Curiosity overcoming her fear --- and any shame the act should have engendered, she pulled down the top of her dress to look at her chest where the knife had struck.
There was no blood. There wasn't a mark on her smooth skin. Not even a little reddening, let alone a puncture.
She ran her fingertips over her chest, marveling again at how sensitive her new breasts seemed to be.
He couldn't believe it. Even if his unintentional thrust hadn't killed her outright, the girl should have been writhing on the ground with a mortal wound in her chest. Instead, the stroke hadn't even cut her dress. What was she wearing, an armored dress?
He looked again at the girl. Her dress was too thin and sheer to be armored. His blade should have penetrated it easily.
As he continued to stare at the girl, she pulled down the top of her dress and exposed herself, looking down at where he had struck her. He followed her gaze down to the most amazing set of breasts he'd ever seen, mounds that seemed to stand on their own, as if they refused to acknowledge the presence of gravity. He was also amazed to see no mark on her flawless skin, no sign of bruising where his blade had struck.
He looked up at her face. Her eyes were half closed, a dreamy expression on her face, almost as if she was getting aroused by stroking herself.
Well, armored dress or not, now there was nothing between her bare skin and his blade. Tightening his grip on the hilt, he thrust at the exposed skin of her breast.
Mary was still looking down at herself when the knife flashed into her field of vision again. This time the blade struck her bare skin a couple of inches above the exposed nipple. And again, the point dimpled into her breast about an inch before coming to a halt. But this time it didn't bounce off. She could see the man leaning into the thrust, putting all of his weight into it.
She didn't even wonder why the big man's weight wasn't forcing her smaller body back. She instead reached up, putting her hand over his in an attempt to wrest the weapon away from him.
Feeling her hand close about his, he tried to pull it back in order to retain possession of the switchblade. The ensuing struggle caused the naked steel blade to slide across her chest. The point slid into her cleavage, only the two hands wrapped around the hilt keeping it from disappearing completely between her generous mounds.
Mary watched helplessly as the blade slid into the deep valley between her large full breasts, breasts she hadn't had until a moment earlier. Attempting to pull out the deadly weapon, her hand reflexively tightened about the man's.
The man's sudden scream startled her, making her loosen and release her grip.
With her hand wrapped around his, he was determined to try to keep possession of his switchblade. As he tried to pull his hand back, the girl's hand tightened about his. It felt like a steel vise. And the vise was getting tighter.
Looking up at her face again, he was surprised to see that she didn't even appear to be straining. She still had that dreamy look on her face.
He screamed in pain, drowning out the cracking as several of the slender bones in his fingers broke.
Then the girl's grip loosened. The hilt fell away from his nerveless fingers as he snatched his hand back, cradling it against his stomach.
As the man suddenly let out a scream, released the knife, and drew his hand back, Mary tried to catch the knife before it could fall completely into her new cleavage. Her hand trapped the knife, pressing the blade against her soft flesh.
But instead of cutting her breasts, the tempered steel blade splintered against her soft flesh, flesh that was in reality harder, far harder than any manmade substance.
Too shocked to realize what was happening, she tried to brush away the metal shards. Unaccustomed to her new contours, her efforts actually drove some of the sharp fragments even harder into her chest. She was unaware that she was driving those shards against her skin harder, much, much harder, than the man's original thrust. Again, instead of cutting her, the sharp fragments sent a little tingling sensation spreading across the front of her body as the metal shattered further between her fingers and breasts.
Still cradling his injured hand to his stomach, he watched in amazement as his switchblade splintered in the girl's amazing cleavage. Yet he could see no trace of blood on her chest.
Without conscious thought, his legs took a step away from her as she began to brush the fragments out of her incredible cleavage. Then he stopped, continuing to stare as she resumed playing with herself.
He couldn't help it as his eyes, hell, all parts of his entire body, now exploded with wild arousal, his eyes rapturously traveling up and down along the steely curves of her body, his imaginary hands and lips following close behind them. A thrill coursed through his body as he realized that she was getting as turned on by all this as he was.
Her new breasts were not only larger, but seemed to be more sensitive. Her original, smaller breasts had never felt like this before. Mary felt an incredible tingling sensation that seemed to home in on her nipples as she brushed the remaining sharp steel fragments from the softness of her chest. Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to force herself to relax, forcing herself to control the arousal that was racing out of control. Slowly reaching up to cup and lift herself, she felt just how large and hard her nipples were truly getting, her fingers playing gently with them. She rolled her nipples between her fingers, unaware that she was pinching them hard enough to crush steel even though she wasn't coming close to using her full strength.
Despite being far too young for the man who was attacking her, she knew it was useless to try to ignore the growing power of her strongly erotic impulses, her newfound strength and confidence overcoming any girlish hesitations. Blinking her sparklingly clear brown eyes, she saw that the man was beginning to back away from her. She stepped forward to gently wrap her arms around him, holding him tightly against her body, pressing herself against his chest to try to calm the wild tingling that filled her breasts.
He felt a pleasant sensation from the girl's warm hands as she ran them across his back while pressing her body so closely against his own. At first, her warm soft breasts felt incredibly good as they pushed so firmly against his hard muscled chest, her silky hair falling across his face and shoulders. Feeling himself starting to get really hard, he also was so very aware of the amazingly firm points of her nipples as they pressed against him, the pressure of those nearly inch-long nipples almost painful as they dimpled his own powerful chest. Sliding his leg up between hers, he pressed his knee against her crotch as hard as he could. Unsure how to hold her, he decided to not hold back at all.
Maybe this is how the bitch gets turned on, he thought to himself. Maybe she needs a strong man like me to satisfy her young body. He got even harder as he felt his manhood pressing against the softly rippling muscles of her flat stomach. Reaching down and ignoring the pain in his broken fingers, he ran his hands up under her miniskirt to grip her tight ass in his hands with all his strength! God... she had the most perfect Buns of Steel he had ever felt.
As the man held her, Mary felt her breasts beginning to flatten very slightly against his strong chest as she started to hold him more tightly, his knee rubbing against her crotch and his hard cock throbbing insistently against her lower stomach, both sensations sending thrills through her strong new body. She also felt the firm grip of his fingers under her skirt as he held her bottom so tightly. Pausing for a moment, her senses full of these wonderful feelings, she found herself getting very aroused, her arms instinctively holding him more and more tightly, the tiny muscles under her soft skin tightening as her breasts became so much firmer.
With her mind floating in blissful forgetfulness, her unique abilities were forgotten for the moment as she began to react simply as women have always reacted to being turned on. Without thinking, she soon found she was holding him so tightly that her now breasts had stopped compressing, the man's ribs bending slightly inward under the firm pressure of her no longer soft mounds. Sensing the erotic contrast between her strength and the man's, a feeling of tremendous power surged through her body. Yet despite that awareness, she was completely unaware of how strongly she was holding him, his body bending around her firm chest. A thrilling tingle started between her legs and ran up across her stomach until it reached her breasts, unconsciously compelling her to begin to use her breasts in a way she had never imagined possible, using them to completely overpower this man. A distant part of her mind knew she could just as easily use them to destroy him if she wanted to.
That hidden part of her mind suddenly rushed forward, relishing the sensation of his ribs bending further inward as she flexed her biceps more strongly. She suddenly remembered what this man had tried to do to her. Without truly understanding where it was coming from, she felt a sudden wave of righteous anger flowing through her as her subconscious mind resolved to stop this man from ever hurting anyone else.
This wildly forbidden thought, that of using the softest part of her body to completely overpower this man, suddenly excited a young girl's libido to new heights. And now those impossible dreams had been more than fulfilled as she realized that no man could ever force her to do anything she didn't want to do.
That exciting thought, one that was strangely erotic, the thought of totally overpowering a man with just her physical strength, was enough to cause her body to become totally aroused again. Her nipples, now as super as her muscles, grew until they were more than an inch in length as they pressed firmly into the man's chest. Yet because her breasts were already compressed to the point where they were in equilibrium with the man's strongly muscled chest, the increase in pressure gave them no place to go except through the soft masculine body that she held in her arms. She was barely conscious of the man's final gasps as the air in his lungs was forcefully expelled by her expanding chest. She knew only that her nipples were burning and tingling strongly, and that she needed to stroke them across his strong chest. She suddenly loved the little thrills she felt as each of the man's ribs bent her nipple downward slightly before they would slip free and snap upright again, his chest growing wetter, the slippery warmth helping her nipples slip smoothly over his ribs.
"Mmmm, heavenly!" she sighed as she rested her cheek on his shoulder, her long silky hair draped luxuriously over his upper body. Without realizing that she was doing anything but indulging in her own sensual pleasures, her steely nipples slowly ripped through his heavy work shirt and into his chest muscles themselves while she simply basked in the wonderful sensation of rubbing her nipples against his hard ribs. Her powerful hands held his upper arms as she started lifting his body up and down across her body, her embrace so forceful that her now steel-hard nipples began creating two huge deep furrows down his chest. She continued to hug him tighter and tighter as she slowly reached her arms further around his back, his ribs painfully and slowly bending inward around her inhumanly erotic breasts as she pressed them more and more firmly against his chest.
He reacted by painfully reaching up to grab the sides of her chest while frantically trying to push the distracted girl away from himself. Yet he was terrified when he found that he couldn't make the slightest difference in the pressure her breasts were exerting against his chest, her eyes closed as she seemed to be indulging in some private fantasy. Struggling like a man possessed, his vision started to grow darker as he found he couldn't breathe any more either, the pain of his torn skin and muscles becoming more than he could bear. Finally, with one last gasp of strangely erotic agony sweeping through his body, he felt his ribs passing the point of no return, his fragile calcium bones collapsing noisily under the inexorable pressures exerted by this supergirl's beautifully firm and now completely lethal breasts.
Meanwhile, lost in a fantasy that was beyond mortal comprehension, Mary continued to dreamily hug the man even tighter to herself as she unconsciously bent his spine further and further under her hands until it too snapped in half, her hands effortlessly pushing his shoulder blades into the remains of his chest as his body collapsed in her tight embrace. So lost was she in her erotic reverie that she still had no idea what she was doing to this man. Her eyes remained closed as she enjoyed the tingling feelings that coursed through her young body. Smiling dreamily, her soft lips gently kissing his ear, she leaned her head on his shoulder while letting her long silky black hair flow gently down his back. Dreaming of a boyfriend, of embracing him this strongly, she ran her hands luxuriously down this man's strong back, imagining it was Rick's body she was holding so tightly against her own, her thoughts momentarily lost in the rapturous sensations of that unexplored fantasy.
At the same time, the immense and uncontrolled strength of her hands continued to crush the remainder of the man's ribs, fracturing his lower spine while she gently ran her fingers across his torso. Squeezing her thighs together to try to push his knee more firmly up against her hungry crotch, she was frustrated when she felt his leg suddenly dissolving softly between hers, a muffled snap barely audible before all the resistance of his leg faded away. Rick's body had never felt this way to her in her dreams.
Growing more and more frustrated, she ran her lower down his back until she finally held his hips, a sudden irresistible urge to press his body even more firmly against herself. Tightening her abdominal muscles, she suddenly felt several very sharp cracks, totally unaware that his hips had just shattered against the wet steel of her hard pubic bone, guarding as it did her suddenly needful sex. Completely lost in the overwhelming sensuousness of her passion, she pressed him ever more firmly between her legs, the remaining bones of his thighs bending the little they could before they also shattered loudly.
Never in her young life had Mary felt herself this turned on nor had she felt this strong and vital. Her passion grew so great that she never noticed what she was doing to this man until she finally felt her own fingers reaching unobstructed between her legs. Until she felt the wonderful sensation of her wet fingers sliding gently under her panties and between her swollen labia, as she felt the electric tingles as she touched her clitoris, as she felt her body now becoming fully aroused. Adrift in a feeling of wild sexual power and pleasure, she slid her fingers faster across her sex, her entire body vibrating with desire, her fingers overcoming the growing frustration she had been feeling.
Yet at the same time, another part of her mind was awakening, the original part, that of fourteen-year-old Mary Chandler.. That part of her consciousness quickly noticed that the man seemed much smaller and softer in her arms now, his body now far too soft in fact to be interesting to the 'other' part of her anymore.
It was at this moment when the original part of her mind screamed, the flash of realization of what she was doing to this man causing her to suddenly snap her eyes open. Overcoming her hazy sensual daze, she looked down to see the man's distorted and crushed body hanging in her arms, horrified as she suddenly realized that she had killed him. That she had broken nearly all of the bones in his body as she had hugged him to herself so passionately. Gasping in horror, as she opened her arms and stepped backward, the crushed body of the now dead man falling into the formless heap of a rag doll on the ground.
The sudden realization that she had actually become sexually aroused while crushing the life from this man crashed in on her. While one part of her mind exalted in her new sexual and muscular powers, a larger part of her was nauseated that she could kill a man so easily and unconsciously with just her bare hands. Even if he had been evil and dangerous, and probably would have done the same to her had he been able to do so. And all the while feeling such wild and forbidden pleasures.
With her passion escaping her as fast as it had come, she brushed her tousled hair from her face to reveal her eyes.
The gruesome sight hit her again as soon as her eyes were clear. She fell to her knees and doubled over, emptying her stomach.
With her stomach now empty, her vision grew dim. Unable to retain her balance, she started to topple onto her side. Her lips formed a single word just as she fell to the ground.
With her eyes closed, she didn't see the brilliant flash of lightning that lit up the dark alley.
When the light had faded, the red-clad figure of the World's Mightiest Girl was nowhere to be seen. In her place was the unmoving body of fourteen-year-old Mary Chandler, her knees drawn up to her chest as she curled up tight in a fetal ball.
