(Note: This is a longer version of a short story that I entered in a Reedsy contest. If you like this story, please hop on over to Reedsy using this link to like and support my comment. This helps me to gain more traction on the website and lets more people see my stories!
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I’ve always wanted a sibling. Someone who, when you say, “Oh, yeah. Dad just blew up half of the coastline again,” could answer back with, “Ugh. He’s the worst.”
But, no. Dad only wanted one kid, one experiment, one—what’s the pet name he always calls me? Oh, yes—apprentice.
Basically, he wanted a glorified sidekick and free child labor.
“I’ve got them this time, Gravitas.” Dad sat in his plotting chair, which was nothing more than a computer desk chair in front of various monitors. Lights flashed in his eyes, casting weird shadows that blended with the afternoon sun that poured through the windows. “There’s no way those imbeciles will escape my devious plan this time.”
My head rested on his desk, and I scuffed my sneaker along the floor. “Wendy.”
“What?” Dad swiveled around to look at me, a blank stare on his face.
I sighed and sat up. “My name is Wendy, not Gravitas.”
“Psh.” Dad turned back around. “You need to keep your identity a disguise. Gravitas is perfectly acceptable. But if you don’t like it, I have a few more. Dark Hole, which is my least favorite, I’ll have you know. Force of Nature, which is a bit long—”
“I like Wendy,” I said. “That’s what you and Mom named me.”
“Because we didn’t know what powers you would possess yet.” Dad’s mouth quirked upwards ever-so-slightly. “If I had, you would have been Gravitas from birth.”
“It sounds like an elephant.”
I plopped down and grabbed my portable video game console from the table. I spun in lazy circles as I played until I felt sufficiently nauseated. I’d already beaten three levels of my RPG before Dad spoke again.
“Ah! Look at this.” He clicked a few buttons until an area in the shipping district appeared. I glanced out of the corner of my eye, but one of the pixelated boys on my screen was currently running low on HP with three enemy turns remaining, so obviously my attention was elsewhere.
“Gravitas—” I glared at Dad until he amended, “Wendy. Look. One day, defending St. James will fall to you, and you must know how to locate the mindless thugs that plague our city. It will be up to you to stop this.”
He hacked into the cameras until we saw the aforementioned thugs with masks on. So stereotypical. I had to admit, Dad was generally right when he called people imbeciles. “Drug deal. Examine the markings on their sleeves—it looks like some Viking underlings hoping to make it into Hersir’s elite forces.”
“Wonderful.” I groaned at something that had nothing to do with drugs, gangs, or the deterioration of St. James and the human race in general. My swordsman had fallen to the second attacker, and by the rules of the game, he would not be revived. Permadeath could only be erased one way—by restarting the entire level, which I did with a few clicks.
Stupid rules. Stupid pixelated villains. Stupid real-life villains.
Here, Dad expounded on his theories of how to completely erase Hersir from existence, which I had heard roughly 2.3 billion times before, so I returned to my game. I’d nearly navigated the entire board before I heard Dad say: “Gra—Wendy? Wendy, I said it’s time to suit up. We’ll take the Spaceship—” Cue an eye roll from me here, because how pretentious is it to call your souped-up car a spaceship? “—and intercept Hersir’s lackeys before they can escape.”
“Woohoo.” I saved and turned off my game. “How about we just go out to eat or something after the drug raid? Maybe go to the movies?”
But Dad had already launched himself from the seat, his finger drawing in the air as he sketched out a foolproof, innovative, incredibly detailed plan that I suspected he expected me to memorize as he spouted it off.
I sighed and stopped to tie my laces. If I had a sibling, this would be grounds for a shared eye roll and a synchronized, “ugh, Dad,” comment.
~~
Who would have guessed—Dad and I were able to take down Hersir’s goons easily. I mean, nothing’s really been hard since my powers manifested. All I have to do is heighten gravity on the ninnies and down they go. Then Dad swoops in, lecturing them about virtues, how a life of crime never pays, how moronic they are, and how he has more intellect in his pinky finger than they do in their entire brain—blah, blah, blah. It’s exhausting, and I don’t even have to move. I just get out of the car and think about using my powers, and—bam—gravity itself is my pawn.
“Another job well done, Gravitas,” Dad announced as the police threw the last of the criminals in the back of their squad cars. “But we can’t rest on our laurels, or St. James will suffer. We must always be plotting our next move.”
There were still residual sparkles of sunlight on him, but the fancy glasses he’d made me filtered them out so he didn’t burn my eyeballs. If, for some reason, my gravity didn’t take them down, Dad’s—or Sunspot’s, as he was known in the superhero circles—-ability to burn them and blind them with his solar flares would. He was a living legend before I was even an idea in his mind.
If there ever was a moment like that, when he wasn’t plotting everything from my conception to what breakfast I consumed this morning for optimal fuel.
Dad held open the passenger door for me, but before I slid under his arm, I glanced up at him. “Hey, Dad?”
“Yes, Gravitas?”
“Can we pick up some fast food on the way home or something and...I don’t know...just drive around? Put the top down and drive for a bit?”
“Ah!” Dad rubbed his hands together. Little sparks exploded from his palms. “Patrolling! I like the way you think!”
“No, like—” I began, but Dad had already circled the car and was theorizing the best streets to take, where Hersir’s operations were liable to be most active. “Not like that,” I grumbled. “Just a ride.”
I slumped in my seat, slammed the door, and rested my forehead on the window.
~~
I have never been much of a plotter, but that night, I finally understood why Dad might wake up at midnight in a cold sweat, screaming things about his brilliant new ideas for crime-fighting.
Because I had an ingenious idea.
See, if I had a sibling, I might have been able to run it past them first, work out some kinks, probably even convince them to help me. I’d consumed enough media to know siblings have your back whenever you’re going to do something convoluted and not parental approved at all. Siblings are also good at talking you down when your ideas are abhorrently awful, but alas, I had neither. Just this foggy, late-night spark of inspiration that solidified into a terribly perfect plan the more I thought about it.
I threw on my super-suit, which was Dad’s own design. Besides the sun-repellant glasses, it included a black two-piece getup, complete with purple swirls and flecks of light on them, meant to represent spiral galaxies and the stars. Dad had taken great lengths to not make the ensemble either revealing or too skintight. After all, I was his baby girl, and there was no way he was letting anyone ogle me.
The only thing I couldn’t fix was my hair. It was nutmeg brown and just fell lifelessly to my shoulders. But, whatever. It could do its own thing. I didn’t have time to fiddle with it tonight.
Not when I was all dolled up with places to go.
Unfortunately, I was only fifteen, so driving the Spaceship was off-limits.
Which meant I was probably the first superhero in history to ride a bike out of their lair while donned in their full get-up. I mean, no criminal is really going to be intimidated by you if you ride by on a two-speed. What’s the worst you can do, ring your Bell of Justice at them and hope they can fit in the basket between your handlebars?
For the record, I didn’t have a basket between my handlebars. I wasn’t six.
Dad had pointed out several new locations for Hersir’s recruitment stops as we’d patrolled earlier. Hersir never stayed in one place for long. Dad refused to allow it. He had an uncanny knack for deducing exactly where the Viking gang boss frequented. It really wasn’t hard, if you asked me: look for the shadiest, sketchiest, raunchiest, or most cliché part of town, and there you could find a Hersir recruiter.
So I pedaled straight down to the club Dad had pointed out as a hotspot, destined to be taken down within the week.
On a bike.
In the middle of the night.
See, if I had a sibling, they never would have let me do this...alone.
But it was too late to back out. I ditched the bike in the alley next to Club Crusoe. Even from outside, I could feel the music pulsing through my feet and up into my chest. How people could stand this without going deaf was beyond me. And how people could stand to function the next day on so little sleep was also beyond me, but whatever.
I pushed open the door, and for once, my supersuit wasn’t the stupidest getup in the room. Everyone seemed to have neon paint on, and people were in a variety of clothes...or lack thereof. My personal archenemy—glitter—sprinkled the multi-colored floor while confetti twisted around in the sky.
Personally, it looked like a kindergartener had designed this for a class project, and their parent—who was probably high at the time—had thought it was a great idea.
I slunk along the back wall until I reached a row of booths in the back. Couples perched on them, doing things I probably shouldn’t have witnessed until I was at least sixteen. The paramours were covered in glitter, confetti, and who-knows-what-else as they pawed at each other, which left behind streaks of the glowing paint behind.
But to keep an eye on my target—and preserve whatever stitch of innocence I had left—I focused on the booth furthest from me, where a man sipped something from a crystal glass and stared at his phone.
In fact, he was so consumed by his screen he didn’t even notice when I thumped down in front of him.
He startled, and I happened to catch sight of a meme before he locked his phone.
Well, I guess even evil villain henchmen need to get a laugh once in a while.
“You going to invite me to join your cronies now, or after you think I’m sufficiently drunk?” I nodded at his collection of glasses.
Henchman scowled at me. “You can’t even drink apple juice yet, kid. Scram.”
I spread my palms out. “Okay, fair enough. But I don’t think I would really be telling Gravitas to scram.” I stomped my foot—Dad had this thing for dramatic flair, and now seemed like the best time to tap into it—and the man gasped as his face was suddenly plastered to the table. “Anything else you want to say to me?”
His mouth opened, but the only things that came out were a few pathetic wheezes.
“I thought so. Get Hersir on the line.”
I released my gravitational pull a bit so he could sit up and adjust his tie.
“And, really. A tie? You don’t know much about blending in, do you? I could have picked you out from a lineup.” I gestured to his traditionally handsome face. “If you really want to blend in, I would have tried some makeup. Maybe dip your head in a vat of glitter and don a couple glowstick necklaces.”
He scowled. “I’ll have you know that business casual attracts people.”
“Who? Thirsty women who are so hammered they can’t see straight?”
He growled and took another swig. I could tell only a thin line a restraint was keeping him from telling me to shut up. “Okay, so you’re Gravitas. But why do you think I’m just going to call the boss? So you can make some empty threats?”
I leaned forward on my hands. “Who said anything about threats? No. I’m sick of being one of the good guys.” Dad had taught me the perfect time for a dramatic pause: four seconds. Five is uncomfortable, three isn’t quite dramatic enough. So—four, three, two, one… “I want to join him. And I’ll give you all of Sunspot’s secrets while I’m at it.”
~~
Two things I learned in between meeting Henchman and when he dragged me into Hersir’s apartment: one, power dampening cuffs are really painful and leave bruises behind. Two, being blindfolded makes me car sick.
Hersir stood before a tall window and overlooked the city. He had something in his hands—a stress ball, maybe?—and kept twirling it around. Like the typical cliché villain, he didn’t even glance at Henchman as he said, “Did you boys make sure there wasn’t a bug on her?”
“He was thorough,” I snapped. “Which means if I ever tell Daddy-dearest, he’ll wish he’d just left that non-existent bug on me.”
“I’d watch that tongue if I were you,” Henchman hissed before he left the room. “Hersir isn’t as forgiving as me.”
I wanted to add “duly noted,” but the pretty boy had already vacated the premises before I could form the words.
Hersir chuckled and turned around. He was a bit younger than I expected. So far, he was good at keeping in the shadows. Dad and I had only seen him masked—or in grainy pictures. But Hersir seemed to be in his twenties or thirties at best. “I assume you’re making big talk because you’re terrified of what I may do to you, aren’t you? Since you currently can’t use your powers.”
“I’m leaving these on as a gesture of peace towards you so you actually believe me. I want to join your side. I’m sick of being one of the goody-goodies.” I sighed. “Well—actually, I’m just sick of my dad.”
Hersir clucked his tongue and left his perch to circle me like a vulture. “I see. Family squabbles, then, and you’re an angry adolescent out to stick it to the man.”
My face heated a bit. Shoot. If only I had some of that neon paint on so he couldn’t see my blush. “When you put it like that…”
“It sounds so stereotypical, doesn’t it?”
“Says the villain in his lair.”
“Everyone has to lean into their stereotype sometime.” Hersir tossed his stress ball back and forth. “Can’t have the world knowing our dirty little secrets, can we?”
“Like you’re paranoid and probably have anxiety levels off the charts from your little undercover operation here?” I nodded at his toy.
He caught the ball again and tucked it in his pocket.
“It would be so much easier to just give up a life of crime. Maybe get a job as a deli clerk? I doubt they have assassins chasing after them, unless their subs are just that terrible.”
He ignored me. “How did you expect this to go, Gravitas?”
I shrugged. “You would be so grateful for the information I’m going to bring that you would fall at my feet and accept me as your second-in-command?”
He tilted his head and smirked. “No...I believe you imagined facing Daddy down on the battlefield. You would wound and betray him in the deepest way...only to double-cross me at the last second. You’d capture me and get back in Daddy’s good graces, with him repentant for his treatment of you.”
“What?” My voice cracked. “No.”
“Perhaps you don’t know how I can be so sure of this story. You see, I have powers too. Very useful in my line of work as well.” He leaned in closer to me. I could smell the gum on his breath—it was a new anti-panic gum laced with some substance designed to lower stress levels. Whatever Hersir was, confident was not it. “I can tell when someone is lying to me—it’s like your whole body just tells me the truth.” He took a step back. “That was your plan in its entirety. You really just thought you could waltz right in here and I’d accept you.”
I swallowed. “No—really—”
“Don’t lie.”
My palms beneath the power dampening cuffs went sweaty. Now would be the perfect time for a sibling to burst in and reveal they’d been in on the whole thing all along, and together we would take down Hersir.
Stupid Dad for only wanting one stupid kid.
He stuck his hands inside his pockets. “You just wanted your dad to notice you. You just wanted to hurt him so he’d pay more attention to you and less time being consumed by hero work.” He tilted his head, as if he could hear me spilling my guts. “And you don’t have any trackers on you. No, you didn’t want Daddy snooping.” His grin grew wider. “Not so much as a phone on you. My, you really were thorough.”
I bit my tongue so not a twitch of my face would betray anything. Not a single teardrop would fall. After all, Dad had trained me in keeping my emotions in check.
“There was only contingency you didn’t plan on.” Hersir tucked his hands behind his. “That it was a very, very imbecilic idea.”
“To be fair,” I choked out, “I did consider that. Several times. I just tried to tell myself I was being paranoid.”
“Mm. Perhaps you should learn something from me…” Hersir leaned in until his lips were almost on my cheeks, his minty smelling breath right next to my ear. “You can never be too paranoid.”
And that was when the door exploded. Bits of wood and plaster flew everywhere, and I fell straight into Hersir’s chest. We rolled next to a coffee table, where my back thudded against one of the mahogany legs.
The apartment burst into flames, but my glasses protected me from the inferno.
From Dad’s inferno.
“Hersir, get your hands off my daughter,” Dad growled. His voice boomed across the apartment.
“But—” Hersir coughed as smoke wafted through the apartment. The sprinklers came on, dousing both of us, but Dad stayed lit through his powers, though he did steam. “She didn’t—I could tell—”
“Gravitas didn’t lie, because she didn’t plan on me being here.” Dad strode through the room, his flames weakening until they were nothing but little sunspots on his outfit. He hoisted me up and burned through the metal of my cuffs. “She didn’t know I put a tracker in her neck when she was an infant, so she could never be kidnapped or held hostage. I didn’t want a repeat of the Lindbergh Baby.”
“You’re saying I have something in me—” I began.
“That goes off whenever you’re not within a certain radius of me? Yes, I am saying that.” Dad put his arm around my shoulders. “Call me a bad dad if you want, but I can’t let anything happen to you.”
Maybe it was a little excessive, but since the other option meant I would be either a prisoner of Hersir or dead, I decided to not get too upset about it.
Police, other heroes, and even sidekicks burst into the room. Everyone swarmed Hersir, who spewed incoherent threats about his associates and how he would be back. You know, the typical villain diatribe.
Hersir was being arrested, Dad’s sole goal in life...but he pulled me into a corner and hugged me. “Wendy—”
He’d taught me how to disguise my emotions, but at the moment, all that training was useless. I bawled and clung to him, but my words didn’t exactly exude gratefulness. “I can’t believe you put a tracker in me!”
“I can’t believe you would sneak out and try and catch Hersir on your own!”
I sniffled and wiped at my eyes as best I could. “I wasn’t. At all. I—I just thought if I could pretend to be bad, set off all your alarms, side with Hersir…”
Dad pushed me to arm’s length so he could stare at me, his hands firmly on my shoulders. “You mean…”
I blinked and dropped my gaze. “I’m sorry. Really. I just…sometimes I just want you to be my dad. Not my hero. Just...Dad.”
Dad swallowed. He was much better at keeping a stony face, but even he had his limits. “Wendy...if you were unhappy...you could have just said something…”
“I tried. But you kept ranting about patrols and evil megalomaniacs and how I had to save the world!” My voice broke. “How was I supposed to be Wendy when you just wanted me to be Gravitas?”
Dad cupped my cheek. His thumb worked back and forth on my cheekbone. “I’m sorry. This...is my fault. I just wanted you to be the best hero you could be.” He cleared his throat. “I guess it’s kinda cliché of me to say I lost sight of how you were already the best daughter you could be?”
I gave a watery giggle. “Pretty cliché, but...I like it.”
“Good.” Dad pulled me into his embrace again. “Because, at least for a while, I promise the only annoying things you’ll hear from me are bad dad puns and waxing poetry about how my daughter is the best daughter in the world.” He tapped my nose. “And...maybe it’s time for a little family vacation.”
I held him close. “Definitely.”
He kissed the top of my head. “After all, we did just lock away one of the most dangerous criminals in the world. I think that deserves a little bit of R&R before we start strategizing on how to—”
I groaned. “Dad!”
He smacked his forehead. “Okay, I did it again. I’m sorry. No hero speeches for at least an hour. Starting...now.”
Yeah, there was no way he was going to live up to that promise.
Okay, so having a sibling would save me a lot of trouble, but at least there was one perk to being an only child.
At least I didn’t have to share my dad.
