Super Swimmers

Beep. The cashier scans a tube of mascara. Beep. A set of fake flowers. Beep. A book of crossword puzzles. I tap my foot rapidly against the floor. The old lady in front of me in line gives the cashier a gummy smile and talks about her late husband. Beep. A bag of candies crinkles as it crosses the scanner. The lady digs through her purse with trembling hands. She’s still talking, her voice soft and limp. I bite the inside of my cheek. It’s not like I expect the experience at the dollar store to be the pinnacle of luxury, but today is the kind of day where I really just need one thing to go smoothly. Beep. A deck of cards. Beep. A birthday card. There’s a smiling baby grinning up at me on the front. My lips press into a thin line.

I’ve been trying to cover the label on the box I’m holding, but it’s kind of pointless. I’ve only got the one item, and the box is bright pink and big enough that I really can’t hide everything. I try to keep my head held high. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a normal part of life. Nothing wrong with a girl having to pee on a stick every once in a while.

The old lady finishes checking out and hobbles out the door. It's finally my turn. The cashier’s eyebrows shoot up when she sees my purchase, but thank god, she doesn’t say anything. For half a second, I’m scared she’ll recognize me, but I remember that I look a lot different when I’m off the clock. My secret’s safe for now.

The whole test-taking process is its own special kind of humiliation. It takes a good amount of maneuvering to get the stick in the right place, and I end up peeing a little on my hand in the process. It’s not until after the deed is done and I’ve finished scrubbing my hands that I realized I could’ve just peed in a cup and put the stick in after the fact. I try not to beat myself up for it too much. After all, it’s my first time.

Waiting for the test is one of the most stressful things I’ve ever experienced, and there’s some heavy competition in that department. I can’t tear my eyes away from it, my whole world narrowed down to a little pink plastic stick. My finger drums against the bathroom counter. There’s a lot riding on this, and I’m really hoping that it will just come out negative and save me a whole lot of trouble. But I’ve been sick every morning for the past three days, and I’ve had a monster craving for pickles with ranch. I can’t just stick my head in the sand on this one.

The instructions say I’m only supposed to wait for about five minutes. They’re possibly the longest five minutes of my life. I really don’t know what the hell I’m going to do. I really, really like my job, and a mini-me is definitely going to throw a wrench into things. But even with my career aside, I’ve got bigger problems to worry about. The possibilities circle my mind. I have no idea how the genetics would work out on this one. What if it’s got super speed? Invisibility? What if it can fly? Even worse, what if it turns out just like me?

The timer on my phone dings, and I take a closer look. There, clear as day, two thin pink lines, like the bars of a jail cell, staring me dead in the face. I look at the back of the box. I look at the test. I look at the back of the box again. There’s no getting out of it this time. I could take another to be sure, but in my bones I know it’s true. I’ve personally witnessed several major city-wide disasters in my lifetime, but this tops them all, my own personal apocalypse. I’m pregnant.

The blood rushes to my head, and I hear ringing in my ears. I sit down on the toilet in a daze, holding the stick up to my face as if staring at it longer will change the results. I can’t be pregnant. My suit doesn’t stretch enough to accommodate that. I got punched in the stomach just two weeks ago by a hired goon. I’ve got lives to save, and it’s hard enough to do without carrying an extra passenger.

“Fuck!” I toss the test into the waste basket, wishing I could pretend it never happened. Cooking up a kid seems like a recipe for disaster for literally everyone involved. And of course, I haven’t even started to worry about the father.

My phone blares an emergency alarm at top volume. It’s Tsunami calling, which means there’s trouble. Or at least, more trouble than I’m already dealing with. I pick it up.

“What is it?” My tone is a little rude, but I really can’t bring myself to care right now. I feel sick to my stomach.

“Red Eye’s out again. Downtown, by the courthouse. Meet me in five.” He hangs up without waiting for a response. Dickhead. Just like that, it’s business as usual. Duty calls.

I rush to my room and snatch my suit out of the laundry basket, my mask from its spot on the floor. I stretch the suit over my limbs, cringing as it clings to my skin. It’s still damp with sweat from the day before. That’s what I get for putting off the laundry. I throw my hair into a ponytail, buckle my belt, tuck my phone into my waistband. The last piece is the mask, the thing that ties it all together, that turns me into something larger than life. I take a look in the mirror. I’ve seen this girl on the news plenty of times, fighting off bad guys, dodging falling buildings, rushing in to save the day. The name was given to me by a news anchor shortly after my debut, but I think it suits me pretty well. With only a costume change, I’m not just a regular girl anymore. It’s Aftershock now, ground-shaking, world-stopping, death-defying superhero. Just the right girl for the job.

I finish pulling myself together and run to the door, already planning how to handle Red Eye. He likes to pop up every couple of weeks with a new plan to bring the city to its knees. He’s not as dangerous as Skullcrusher, but he’s no slouch. I’m about to rush out the door when I pause. Those two pink lines flash behind my eyes. The smiling baby on the birthday card laughs in my head. I have no idea what’s going to happen once I step out that door. When it’s just me, it’s easy, but things are already so different. Am I really willing to risk it? A boom rattles the walls of my apartment complex, and I hear shouts and screams coming from a few blocks north. Sitting around and waffling back and forth is a luxury for regular people. It’s not an option for me. I’m out the door.

The stone walls of the courthouse are already crumbling by the time I get there, and a few cars have been overturned. A fire hydrant spews water six feet high, which means that Tsunami might actually have something to work with. Red Eye sits in the center of the chaos, laughing manically. He’s got his paws around some woman’s ponytail as she shrieks and tries to shove him away. I crack my knuckles. I’m a little glad things are already a mess—my powers tend to shake things up.

The earth moves beneath my feet at my command, propelling me forward faster than I could ever run. It launches me up close so I can land a solid right hook into the side of his jaw. Red Eye stumbles backward, and I pluck the girl from his grasp, pulling her away.

“Thank you,” she’s sobbing and clinging to my arms.

“No need to thank me,” I say, looking for a safe place to drop her. “Can you make it over to the sandwich place?”

“Um, I can’t really run right now,” she says. I do a double take. I have no idea how I missed it—this lady’s pregnant. Pretty far along, too. She looks like she’s about to pop.

“Jesus, I’m sorry.” Maybe not the most heroic language, but I’m caught off guard. “When are you due?”

“Any day now! It’s a—” She screams and ducks as a violent red laser snipes the air just past her head. Shit. I let myself get distracted. Red Eye’s back on his feet, firing lasers from his eyes in every direction. Heat waves ripple through the air as the lasers streak by— any closer and it’d singe off my arm hair. I punch the ground, and a wall of rock blooms from the ground, shielding us from the incoming fire.

“I’m gonna get you out of here!” I shout over the sound of firing lasers and crumbling brick. I’m looking for a clear way through, but it’s a tight squeeze even without a heavily pregnant woman in tow. Anxiety curls in my stomach. The woman looks lovely, still glowing even in the midst of all the chaos, but she can barely move faster than a waddle, let alone a dead sprint. I’m worried I’m running out of options when a massive wall of water slams against the courthouse, knocking Red Eye off his feet. Great. He finally decided to show up.

“You’re late,” I say as Tsunami surfs in on the wave.

“I believe the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’,” he says. Asshole. “I’ll cover you—get her out of here!” He flicks a hand, and frothing white water pummels Red Eye relentlessly, pushing him back against the courthouse. I seize my opportunity. I grab on tight to the woman’s shoulder.

“Hold on to me and don’t let go,” I instruct her before drawing a fist close to my chest, using the earth to propel us forward. The woman lets out a squeal and clutches at me as we’re carried out of the line of fire, into the shadow of the sandwich shop.

“Thank you so much,” she blubbers. “You’ve saved me and my baby.”

“Don’t mention it,” I say again. Really, I wish she would stop mentioning it. In nine months, I could look just like her, and I’m not sure how I’m going to save anybody in that state. She thanks me again and rushes off to safety.

“Move, idiot!” Tsunami’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts just in time for me to sidestep a fresh volley of lasers. Red Eye’s still at it, cackling maniacally and firing off lasers in all directions. One skims past my torso, and a stripe of burning heat crosses my stomach, hot enough to char a black mark into my suit. Any closer, and any super babies would have been toast. I try my best to shake the thought away. This has gone on long enough, and it’s time for me to handle business. In the throes of his madness, Red Eye has moved to stand underneath one of the stone arches of the courthouse. It’s almost too easy.

I reach out, letting the power flow through my veins. It’s steady and comforting, my constant companion for as long as I can remember. It’s wonderful, having powers like mine. It’s like singing, like dancing, a rhythm in my bones that makes me want to move. The earth is my own best friend, having chosen me as its favorite, answering to my beck and call with a wagging tail and stomping feet. It makes me feel unstoppable, and nothing has ever been able to bring me down, except for two tiny pink lines. Tsunami sees me gearing up for a finisher and sends a weak spurt of water towards Red Eye. The villain bats it away with a cackle.

“You can’t possibly think that’s enough to defeat me!” He’s got his eyes fixed on Tsunami, hatred burning bright within them. I focus on the arch, searching for that familiar tug in my veins, then snap my fingers.

The sound of cracking stone floods the street, and the arch crumbles, folding inward on itself and becoming an unforgiving hail of stone that lands directly on Red Eye, crushing him beneath its weight. A burst of red light emerges from the rubble, but then, there’s nothing, the light gone as quickly as it arrived. I wait a few seconds just to be sure, but there’s only silence. I won. Now comes the worst part.

Dozens of people stream out of their hiding places and rush towards Tsunami and I, cheering and jumping for joy. I can already see a news crew pulling up onto the scene—they always want to get first-hand footage of these disasters. Tsunami wanders over and tries to me a fist bump.

“Nice job,” he says. My stomach is churning. I push his hand aside and double over to throw up.

“Woah!” he says, going in for a pat on the back. I don’t have the strength to fight him. “Push yourself too hard again?”

“Babe!” A high-pitched voice interrupts us. I cringe—as if the day couldn’t get any worse. I know that voice. Wendy Letner, two-time Pulitzer nominee, beauty ambassador to Lancome, founder of the Letner Foundation, and most importantly, the hero Tsunami’s loving wife. She’s gorgeous, too, because of course she is, with hair as soft and black as a raven’s wing and a stunning smile. She runs up and throws her arms around Tsunami, knocking him a little off balance. He hugs her back and kisses her on the cheek. The street lights up with camera flashes. They’re the perfect power couple, as pretty as a picture. I have to tell him.

“I was worried about you!” Wendy peppers Tsunami’s cheek with kisses. His smile looks a little forced.

“I’m fine, sweetie,” he says. “We had it covered.” My stomach churns again. At the mention of me, Wendy lights up and bounds to my side.

“Thank you so much for keeping him safe,” she gushes, enfolding my hand in both of hers. “I don’t know what I’d do without him.” I feel like I’m gonna hurl. I force a smile.

“It’s all part of the job.” I extract my hand from hers, and she runs back to Tsunami’s side. He glances over at me.

“We all settled?” he asks. I pause. For a brief, insane instant, I wonder if I can just pretend nothing’s wrong and handle things on my own, but I push the thought away. I’ve made this mess myself. I have to clean it up.

“I think we’d better make sure there aren’t any stragglers left behind in the courthouse,” I say. The words feel clumsy on my tongue. Tsunami raises an eyebrow. I pray to god he’s smart enough to pick up on what I’m saying for once.

“Right,” he says. Guess I’m in luck. He places a hand on Wendy’s shoulder. “You wait here, where it’s safe, honey.” Wendy nods, ever the dutiful wife.

We head into the courthouse with Wendy looking after us in awe. The inside is a mess, with part of the wall caved in and the carpet dotted with charred sections from Red Eyes’ lasers. The good news is it seems like there’s no one in here. We’re barely two feet in before Tsunami grabs my waist and tugs me in close.

"Couldn’t wait until we got home, huh?” His breath is hot against my ear. “You’re getting more adventurous.”

"Get off me, shithead.” It feels good to shove him, to let off a little bit of the anxiety thickening my throat. Frankly, I should’ve shoved him off of me a long time ago.

“Jesus, Naomi, what’s your problem?” He actually looks hurt, and that pisses me off even more. Like this isn’t half his fault to begin with.

“It’s not just my problem,” I say, “it’s yours, too.”

“What are you talking about?” he says. “Wendy has no clue.” Prick.

“Shut up and listen to me for once, you idiot.” Everything feels incredibly heavy now, a weight that I don’t know how to bear. I don’t have super strength, and I can’t reverse time. I feel stupid and insignificant, and not very super at all. In the crumbling and charred remains of the courthouse, I feel entirely alone, an earth-shattering girl with an earth-shattering secret.

“If you didn’t come here to hook up, what did you want?” Tsunami’s getting impatient. I want to disappear. But I know the only way out is through. I take a deep breath to steady myself.

“I’m pregnant.”