The Dick.

You’ll never fit in anywhere unless you go somewhere.


A phrase constantly said into Goldie’s bedroom door by her mother (who was prom queen all the years she went to high school). It was boomeranging through her brain still four years after high school. It was what she was thinking when she the house party she promised to attend with her friend Nicole. Even before she walked in the house the boomerang phrase came weaseling back into her frontal lobes. She had told herself that parties were for people with no goals who wanted to die early, but she didn’t really know, she was a college party virgin.

“I can tell you aren’t enjoying this already,” Nicole yelled over the music.

It was a common effect Goldie had, a face that looked like she just took a bite out of an apple to find half of a worm. She was no good at hiding her discomfort.

“No, this seems like so much fun,” she choked out.

She paid no attention to whatever Nicole was trying to shout over the ridiculously loud and tacky music that was bombarding her ear drums. She saw him. His name was Richard Baird; he was her biggest crush in high school. He was always looking so cool and not to mention good looking, mostly good looking; she didn’t know him at all so she just assumed he was cool not knowing if it were true. He was one of the bad boys who played in a band and had long gross hair that somehow was ridiculously sexy.

For the second time ever in the history of Goldie, he looked at her. She looked around herself to make sure it wasn’t a mistake but he smiled and waved at her and again she looked around to find it was her that he was waving at. She felt like she was back in sophomore year when he opened the door for her (this was the first time in history he made serious eye contact with her). But she forgot to look at her friend Nicole, who he was actually waving to. Goldie had no choice to first feel absolutely ridiculous for being excited that someone waved at her and secondly to get herself together for the first interaction with him in pretty much ever. Nicole wasn’t one to ignore an attractive boy. Goldie followed shortly behind her.

He grabbed Nicole in a bear hug as Goldie stood awkwardly by.

“This is my friend Goldie,” Nicole said hardly paying any attention to her at all keeping her eyes on the good looking man in front of her, “This is-“

“Richard,” she covered her mouth and felt creepy that she would know such a thing when he didn’t even slightly recognize her, “We went to the same high school,” she grabbed the nearest drink and chugged it.

He glanced over at her and broke his embrace with Nicole, “We did?”

“Yeah, You were friends with Natalie and my friend Jared and her were good friends.”

“Oh yeah I know Jared! You’re his friend?”

“Yes, I am.”

“He’s hilarious.”

“Yes he is.”

Nicole walked away unenthused and ready to find someone who would give her their full attention. When Goldie noticed she had a ball of nerves in her throat that wouldn’t go away no matter how much she tried to swallow it down. She grabbed another drink.

“So you still in that band you were in in high school?” she asked nervously wishing Nicole would come back and rescue her from her embarrassment she was sure to havoc on herself.

“Uh, ha, no. You remember that?”

“Sort of I guess,” she shrugged feeling a bit dizzy, “I had the biggest crush on you,” her eyes almost fell right out of her head right after the words left her mouth.

“Oh did you?”

Her eyebrows raised, “Yeah…”

“You want come with me somewhere?”

Goldie wasn’t the type of girl who went somewhere and did things with people she didn’t know. But a little make out session never hurt anyone. Most of the time it actually made people feel great! It was going to be the pay back for high school. She never liked high school and it crept up on her every once in a blue moon. It would be the releasing the dove of high school, or something like that. He grabbed her hand and took her outside.

“Is this what you always wanted in high school?”

“Hmm? Well it wasn’t the top of my priorities obviously, or else I probably would’ve talked to you before this moment.”

“Want to make your high school dreams reality?”

“Well I wouldn’t go so far to say it was my drea….” She trailed off when she noticed a stupid on his face and him giving her a drunken seductive face pointing at his crotch.

“I’ll go put on my prom king crown if it will help with the fantasy.”

“Wow. Really?” she said sarcastically, Richard didn’t quite catch on.

“Yeah I still have it.”

“Oh my god, you do?”

He grinned and nodded his head vigorously.

“You know, I am just dying to help you out with your little situation in your pants, but,” she paused, “I just can’t.”

“Oh so you have a boyfriend?”

She couldn’t hold in the laugher and it just busted out of her, “No, no I don’t. But I’ve just realized I have so much more appealing things to attend to, like eating a live bird for instance.”

“Wait what?”

“I am super into guys with no future who are counting on getting famous for their crappy music and good looks, who drink every night to the point of blacking out and think popping pills a competitive sport.”

“What is your problem?”

“My problem? I don’t have one. You’re the one who has a serious problem. You’re the type of person whose highest point in life was high school and you’re scared to move on so you travel on the same road and it gets you nowhere. You aren’t going to be young and gorgeous forever bucko and all the drinking and drugs is going to catch up to you. And then you’ll be ugly, then what are you going to do?”

“Wow, I like you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I like you.”

“Ugh, get a job,” she started to walk away and he followed.

“Marry me.”

“Goodbye.”

High school ended four years back, and returning was a seriously bad idea. It’s like following a tornado, it seems dangerous and interesting, but no good would come from it. Just be grateful that you survived and leave it behind you. Only return upon the tenth year reunion to laugh at all the pretty girls who got fat. Before that leave it alone, pretend it didn’t happen.

ClubLove

I just want to go to a club and find the man of my dreams, the kind of man with a bedazzled behind. He is the highest pick of them all. He is communicating to you that he can take care of you for your life that’s why he’s showing off his riches in the form of rhinestones on either his flared jeans or affliction fallen angel shirt. Think of it like a peacock. I want his arm to be as big as my thigh, just because. Protein! Protein! Protein! I want to hear him walk by, sort of like a cat collar with a bell on it, so his shoes must have a heel and extra pointy. I always look when I hear that manly clicking sound. His smell must fill my nostrils with a powerful odor that can out odor any others. The smell needs to go inside my brain so I am not thinking of anything else but his smell. I have to taste it, that’s how powerful it must be. His hair must be so full of product that smoking is a hazard because it may be flammable. I need to know that my man’s hair will not move no matter how strong the wind; it must be able to withstand tornado weather.


The man for me knows how to dance. Body rolls for days and days. And you can’t forget about the all-important fist pump. You know he is sparking the romance with that fist. I really enjoy when he, without permission (because I don’t really know what I want), starts to grind all up on me. I love it. I can’t get enough of it. It turns me onto love like blood to sharks. I know he is asking me to be his future wife. I especially enjoy the dry humping it’s so romantic it makes my heart shiver in a good way.

When he’s buying me endless drinks to the point of forgetting where I am I know it’s out of love. He cares so much about me he wants to be my guide for the night, and eventually life. Where else does love come from other than the club?

Not yet named project exerpt.

The party was happening, with or without Richie. It was in the back of Ruby’s head to just cancel the whole thing, but Peter’s annoyingly truthful words were on repeat in her brain, “You can’t base your fun off him.” But she had to admit to herself, that’s exactly what she was doing. HE was the reason she had planned the party, and he wasn’t even coming.


Despair pit was ready for her to jump in.

Ruby was a full believer in movie moments, and this was one of them. She stood, with drink in hand in the same place (face in full frown) while people moved quickly around her enjoying their posh Hollywood party at their “friend” Peter’s 3 million dollar home. She was stuck in depression slow motion while everyone else was having a stupid good time. The only solution in her mind was to get completely sloshed. Not Hollywood sloshed, regular sloshed.

“What are you drinking Ruby?” Peter came up next to her putting his arm around her knowing of her disappointment. She always did it to herself.

She looked down into her cup, completely forgetting what she was drinking or what number she was on, something she usually kept in mind. She hated throwing up. She hated the spins. She really didn’t enjoy being drunk at all. It was a bad sign that she was paying no attention to her drink intake, it was an even worse sign that she became wildly dizzy from just moving her eyes from her cup to Peter’s face.

“I don’t know, that guy made it,” she pointed to a surfer bro she hadn’t ever met previous to the moment he handed her a drink and knew he was too good looking to be actually interested in her which made her feel worse about herself. She took the drink anyway.

“Hmm, I say we should probably put it down then huh?”

“I don’t care,” everything seemed

“Stop it Ruby. I told you not to have this party if you were going to base it off this guy.”

“You knew that is exactly what I was doing.”

“Well did you invite him? “

“Of course I did! Jesus Peter! You think I can’t do anything involving men. I’m not that pathetic.”

He put up his hands defensively, “No. I was just wondering. Where is he? What’s the story?”

She sat down on the ground in the middle of everything, not caring what people were thinking. They were the type to think things, especially drunk gangly girls who sit on the ground in the middle of a Hollywood party. She didn’t even know 90 percent of them anyway, “He said he had to work until four in the morning. So there was no way he would be able to come.”

“Bartender?”

“Yeah, at some club called Epic.”

Peter began coughing spastically.

“What Peter?”

“That’s a gay club Ruby. He’s one hundred percent queer.”

Ruby’s heart suddenly became and anchor.

“What? No! I don’t really know if that’s what he said. I don’t know if that’s where he works. Maybe he didn’t say that. Lots of things sound like epic,” she knew it was absolutely ridiculous but she felt the water works starting. She shook her head and covered her hot face.

“Ruby, I sort of got that vibe from him. It makes so much sense now,” he laughed, “He would always sort of smile at me weird, and check me out constantly.”

“Peter!” She couldn’t stay in the room. She couldn’t let these people know she was the type of girl who would cry over a guy she didn’t even know. Not that she cared about these people (but the fact was she actually did care). Her heart was breaking and she didn’t even know if the guy liked the Beatles but for him she would’ve let it slide if he didn’t.

In a drunken stupor she found herself in Peter’s master bathroom sitting in his glamorous rich people jet tub. It was weird, but it seemed every time she drank too much she found herself in the tub.

She took a deep breath and then realized he did say the word epic. He pronounced it with pride. “EP-IC.” He was gay. He was. Ruby had a better chance with Zac Ephron then Richie. Peter had more of a chance with Richie than she did, but then again Peter had a better chance with straight men than her, he was doused with the glory of fame and beauty.

And with that knowledge she began to bawl.

“Ruby?” there was a knock at the door, a female’s voice, “Ruby, it’s Angelica.”

“I don’t feel like talking. I don’t even know who you are!” She positioned herself into a ball hugging her knees to her nose.

“Sure you do, we are at the same agency.”

The last person in the world Ruby wanted to talk to was a pretty model that had no trouble getting any man.

“Like I want to talk to you.”

“Come on Ruby, open the door, we can talk about whatever is going on.”

“Leave me alone. I’m not crying because I’m drunk! It’s because I’m really sad!”

“I know you are,” it wasn’t Angelica anymore, it was Peter, “Please let me in. Please?”

Ruby, very unsteadily, unlocked the door, still whimpering like a baby, and made it back into her tub position. She could here Peter’s fancy shoes click and him sitting next to the tub.

“You’re only crying because you are really very drunk Ruby.”

“No I am not! This is so depressing. Seriously. The one guy I thought was interested in me turns out to be gay. I can guarantee you that the only reason he was being nice to me is so he could see you. He was far too good looking for me anyways. He probably wouldn’t even give me a second glance if he was straight. This sucks,” she put her face in between her knees and tried to keep her sight straight on the white tub bottom.

“Stop it Ruby, you know that is rubbish. Plus we don’t know if he’s gay for sure! Straight people sometimes work at gay clubs. In fact I asked my friend Chris out there, he says straight people do all the time. Bartenders will try to get jobs anywhere. I bet he’s straight Ruby.”

“Shut up. He is gay, we both know it. You said he was constantly checking you out.”

“I was making an ill-timed joke Ruby.”

“No, it’s true.”

“Come here Ruby,” she felt him tugging at her shirt but she didn’t budge.

“I wish it were raining.”

“I know you do. Will you please get up? We can still have fun.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

“Come on, get up.”

Ruby stood up reluctantly as Peter assisted her. She put her arms around his waist and closed her eyes as he let them into the shower room and turned on the cold water.

“Hey look! It’s raining Ruby!”

She frowned. How could someone so married be so nice to her? Peter knew that Richie was gay but as long as it would make Ruby happy he would pretend he wasn’t until it was impossible.

Not Yet Named.

Prologue


Me falling in “love” with a person could be compared to a shark eating a human being. It’s sitting there, just dangling in front of you. You shrug and say to yourself, “Might as well.” You put all this energy into it and all you get is a lousy leg and maybe a lost eyeball depending on the human being you are dealing with. But the feeling it gives you to eat that human being (if we are still speaking in shark terms) is so worth it and you can’t stop until you are eventually hunted and killed. Now speaking in me terms is I cannot get enough of the falling. I crave that crush. I wouldn’t call myself boy crazy at all. I am in fact a very picky human being. Therefore the men I tend to fall for don’t fall back. This has become a serious issue for me.

My name is Ruby McAllister and I am a hopeless romantic.

(Above is an insert from Ruby McAllister’s diary. (Yes she has a diary, there’s nothing wrong with that))

Ruby has dug herself a hole of depression and thrown herself into it. The girl has fallen for a boy who doesn’t even glance back at her. She can’t understand what has happened. She smiles every single time she orders her drink and he always smiles back. She thought it was something special they shared. Turns out he smiles at everyone and not only that but he often gives other people extra flavor in their drinks for free. He’s simply a nice guy, not a guy that likes her.

It all started with childhood. It isn’t often that a person grows up with parents that are absolutely in love with each other. This is a terrible environment to rear a child in. The child grows up thinking it’s normal to find someone you genuinely want to spend the rest of your life with. Not only that but she watched Disney princess movies like it kept her lungs from collapsing, almost as if it were her oxygen.

As Ruby grew she didn’t know how to do things normally. She had no older siblings to teach her the ropes of crushes. And her parents, well they were no help at all. They were one of those unreal couples that saw each other and just clicked. They were puzzle pieces that were lost all their life until they found on another and fit. They were the cliché “my life didn’t start until I met you”. In other words, if you believe in it or not, soul mates. The advice they gave her was this, “You’ll find him and you’ll know.”

The problem with this is that that’s not how things work for most of the human population, but she didn’t know, how could she know?

V Day

Barbara. Age 23. Status single. The date is Valentine's day aka February 14th.
She hates how everyone pretends that they don't care it's V day. Because they do. They are all liars if they say they don't. Come on, we're all human beings.
She sits and ponders with her hand directly under the chin because she feels like it's the only appropriate pondering position. If she was to use the word ponder in her brain she made it a consequence of her thought to be in the pondering position. Ponder this. Ponder that. Blah blah ponder.
She is single on this day so she gives herself persmission to be unhappy. SHE HAS AN EXCUSE LET HER BE! She refused any party invitations for any single awareness party where people bring their single friends and try to set them up with one another. Everyone if they are desperate enough will find someone. She hated weird situations and she simply could not do it to herself purposefully. Her dignity was still intact and she planned to keep it there... sort of.
Barbara loved the F book. A week or so before V day she decided to be innovative in a way that she knew wasn't going to be usefull because nobody reads those little notes you make about yourself, but it wasn't for everyone (although she was posting it publically in hopes her friends would read it) she was doing it for HER.SELF....ish.
She typed the words with her eyes closed because for some reason it made her feel better.
IF YOU ARE THE FOLLOWING YOU SHOULD PROBABLY BE DATING BARBARA HARRIS.
(she knew it was stupid because well non of her facebook friends would qualify but... maybe, just maybe they would know someone who did and would eventually fall insanely in love with her).
It went like this:
1.Have blonde hair (natural of course) and be one of those guys who can pull off long haircuts until they are in their 30's because that's cool and totally the sexy surfer look.
2. There's something about dark eyes, they are so much more mysterious. Unless you have those crazy steal blue eyes those are nice too.
3. Wear those shoes that sort of look like soccer shoes but they aren't obviously because then you'd look like an idiot and make weird noises everywhere you went.
4. Play soccer. Soccer legs are great.
5.Be a surfer.
6.A foreigner would be prime. Like an Australian which would fit very well with the blonde surfer.
7. Like girls even though they have an old lady name.
8. Permit Barbara to go to Ryan Gosling movies by herself, no question asked, that's just how it is.
9. Vests are a must.
10. Piano skills are grande.... (like a grande piano).
11. Cook mexican food like a mexican.
12. Like it when the person you sleep next to occasionally accidently punches you.
13. Be insanely romantic that even a girl wouldn't think that the situation you would put her in would only happen in a movie created for women written by a woman directed by a woman starring ryan gosling.
14.You could be Ryan Gosling, obviously the foreign part wouldn't matter at this point.
15. Bring girls cupcakes when they are PMSing like an insane person.
16. Drive a convertable (it doesn't even have to be a nice one)
17. Wear ray ban sunglasses.
18.Own a motorcycle that isn't a harly.
This went on until she hit 100. Then she became very embarrassed but then realized nobody reads those so it didn't even matter.
V Day came now and nobody has F booked her and said they found her one true love named Australian Ryan Gosling. She didn't really think it would happen. What do you think this is? A fictional world?
So her V Day turned into Vagina day.
She rented all the Ryan Gosling movies she knew didn't depress her and also mixed in some Brad Pitt and Antanio Banderis in there. She bought her favorite ice cream and ate it using brownies as her spoon. After 8 straight hours of hot man watching she did 50 jumping jacks and 10 push ups.
She glanced at her phone which had a message from her stupid friend Halli who had a Valentine's date:
OMG this is the best date ever.
Barbara replied:
Oh yeah well he wasn't Ryan Gosling, so that sucks.
She immediatly felt better and hoped Halli realized that her date wasn't Ryan Gosling so it really did suck.

Bea and Wally. EP. 2 Milk and Guns.

When I sleep it's for like an hour and then I wake up. It's a ridiculous cycle that drives me insane. It's probably because of the experiments on my mother when she was pregnant with me. I guess it's what I get for the exchange of my greatness. Because being this great comes with a price. I toot my own horn often, but only to myself, not like Wally. That kid, he's simply ridiculous.
It's three in the morning and Wally jumps through my window, and by Wally I mean the Watcher. There's a difference. Wally is sort of okay. The Watcher is an ass hat. Wally is the one who holds the door open for you when you have bags of groceries and The Watcher is the one who gives you that wicked smile while the elevator doors closes and probably waves at you too. Bitch.
"What are you doing in here? I could've been with someone or something!"
I can see his stupid smirk through his ridiculous mask.
"Good one Bea."
He sits on my bed. Sometimes I wish he'd come to my house in regular Wally pajamas. I wonder what they would be like.
"Hey..." Okay so it's true, it's almost unthinkable for me to be with anyone. I may be really good at bad guy beat down, but catching a so called "catch" well that's not really my forte. Pretty much life isn't really  my forte. The only thing I'm good at is breathing and being Beatrice the night owl who catches the creeps, not so much the girl who goes out and socializes and gets the guys and that sort of stuff. Who needs that when you are me?
"Here," Wally hands me a drink. I look at it and then at him and take a small sip, "Are you trying to kill me?" I ask.
I have two weaknesses. Guns because they will kill me and milk because it makes me violently ill.
"What?" he asks,"It's a latte, it's not poison."
I raised an eyebrow,"With milk? Yeah. Thanks. Lactose intollerant genius," I walk to my bathroom and pour out the beverage.
"Can I ask you something Beatrice?"
"No."
"Are you scared you'll never have a normal life? Do you ever wonder if you'll ever get married and have children? Do you ever sit there and ask yourself if it will ever be possible? Is it like all the old comic books where you can't ever be with anyone because there's always the threat of them getting hurt? Do you get what I'm saying?" he asks with his brilliant presence.
It's weird but it's something I think about constantly, but you never tell someone you don't trust that. His brain seems to be almost identical to mine in that way. I have this intense need to throw up, but I hold it down.
"No. I don't," lies.
"Oh."
"Yeah you are pretty weird," I let out a fake laugh.
"Really," it is not a question. He knows I'm lying.
"We should probably go, you know, scouting for bad people and stuff....." I itch my head in nervousness.
"You know, I am the one with the costume but I feel like you're the one trying to hide from everything. It's weird. I wouldn't say I'm the weird one," he puts on his mask with a smile.
We find ourselves in our new lair. Yes "our" new lair. I had this thing inside me that sort of needed to have a little more reassurance that I wouldn't be dead at the age of 20, so thus I have agreed to work with the guy. It took everything I had to say I would. I almost vomited in seven times before I officially agreed and I eventually had to write it down on a note because I couldn't say the words. I guess it's ridiculous but I'm an independent.
He lies on an abandoned table throwing a yo-yo of all things. I hate yo-yos.
"Will you stop please!" I grab it out of his hand and throw it across the room and it breaks in half. I smile wickedly, "A yo-yo? Really?"
He sighs, it has no effect on him whatsoever, "Wouldn't it be so easy if we just liked each other? We wouldn't even have to worry about the other one most of the time. Both of us are pretty capable of taking care of ourselves if someone tried to kill us or whatever people do," he sits up and takes off his mask because he, for some reason, thinks he needs to wear it at all moments when we're in the lair, but I suppose right now is an exception.
"Why do you keep saying this weird stuff. It creeps me out," I stand away from him because looking at him makes me cringe.
"I'm just saying. I know it would never happen, I was just saying how much easier our lives would be. I am not saying we should. Okay? So stop being awkward."
"No, you stop being awkward," I turn around and Wally is too close. He smiles and lets out a chuckle, "I'm just kidding," he steps back.

The thing about guns is that they are much worse then milk. Milk makes me want to throw up. Guns make things really painful. You'd rather not breath then feel the pain.

Wally and I rush to the first scene of the night. I feel like it's way to early for a drug bust, but people try to throw curve balls, I don't know why, probably because they are idiotic fools that think that they won't get caught if they do it an hour earlier then they did it before. (Good one guys.)
It's so dark everywhere but we can't be obvious so we have no light. I can hardly see anything, I don't understand how anyone can get anything done around here. I begin to pace because I am easily bored. I need stimulationn. Don't throw me in the dark and say wait here. I begin to wander a bit. The Watcher (because that is what he now, he is no longer Wally) stands his ground, silently. He won't talk to me at all.
"Alright I am going crazy," I whisper and wander off to scout the location.

They never tell you when you witness someone being almost dead (or you THINKING they are almost dead) that you see their life flash before your eyes.

A gun rings through the air. I freeze in my spot and almost wiz my pants. I don't think Wally or The Watcher would use his gun unless it is a one hundred percent need for it. I sprint in the direction from which the noise came. I am not calm and collected, I am frantic. I have trained myself for situations but there's this thing called being a human and everything you've once known goes out the window and all you do is panic. That's how I am at this moment.

I see Wally on the ground and I immediatly point and stun the man who was running down the alley way. I know there has to be more so I stand over Wally checking each possible hiding spot. I take down three more in the matter of minutes.

I take a deep breath and look down at The Watcher and take off his mask. His face is wet with sweat. This is when it happens, his life flashing before my eyes. He was supposed to get married with a girl that has like beautiful dark hair that blows in the wind appropriately and never gets stuck in her red lipstick. He was supposed to have babies, lots of them, at least three, and all of them would have his blue eyes. He was supposed to have the house with the fence and the dog. I am the one who will never be happy with that sort of life, but he would be. I should be the one shot, because I can almost predict this is how I will go.

I quickly drop to my hands and knee and look for the spot where he's been shot. There is two in the shoulder. So most likely no death. He rolls over and throws up on my shoes. It's gross but I'm relieved.
I look up and let out a breath of tension.
"Thank god. You idiot you got shot," I say stepping away from the vomit and deciding to lay next to him, "Don't worry the ambulance is coming."
"Good," he says in a wincing voice.
"Yeah, you can't get out of having those blue eyed babies. It would most likely cause damage to the world."
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh. Nothing."

I am Super

I am, in a word, awesome. I can’t help it. You see my mother, when she was quite pregnant, was chosen to try out a prenatal drug along with two other women, and now I’m awesome. Those other mothers didn’t pop out an amazing child like mine did, or at least nobody has heard of them. Now you are thinking: “Beatrice you are telling me you are awesome but are giving me no evidence proving so.” Let me tell you this, did you win the 2015 Nobel Peace Prize at the age of 12? Oh you didn’t? Oh that’s because I did by preventing, at least on sixty different occasions, terrible things from happening to the people of world. Yes, the WORLD!


I was born unusual. By unusual I mean I was born with a genius brain and some other physical attributes that make it possible for me to be considered a “super hero”. I graduated the valedictorian of my high school when I was ten years old. Pretty smart eh? Well I am to Harvard Medical FOR FUN, you know, to stimulate the brain and such. I may look like a normal 20 year old girl, but I am not. To make clear what I mean by this I have an example for you. I can pretty much save children from rubble that would take a normal human days to clear in probably ninety seconds…at the most. If you are still not understanding well just think of Superman but girl version and I’m not an alien and I will die if I get shot in various important parts of my body. Oh yes, and I can’t fly. Anyways, this is me and my name is Beatrice, I go by none other.

So now you can understand what I mean when I say I am awesome.

But anyways, remember how I said those other mothers didn’t pop out anything special? Well I might’ve been wrong about that. You see there is this annoyance I have, he calls himself The Watcher. Of course he thinks he’s so much better than me because he has a stupid nickname. Beatrice is a cool enough name that I don’t need a nickname. He probably has a lame name like Eugene. This guy thinks he can come into my turf and take over? Not if I have anything to say about it.

How did I find out about “The Watcher”? So this one night I get this call from the police, it’s a huge break in at none other than the largest diamond store in New York (I don’t know why these people try this anymore, they must be out of their minds), but I arrive a few minutes after the call but it seems that someone has already taken care of everything. I realized then it may be a trap. I glanced around to find the man who was going to most likely jump me within seconds and I see this dark figure up on the register countertop. He just stood there, not trying to defend himself or attack me.

Confused I utter the word, “Hello?”

“Hello Beatrice,” he said this like it was remarkable that he knew my name, but everyone knows my name, so I was not impressed.

“Who are you and what are you doing here? Did you do this?” I point to the unconscious men on the floor.

“You aren’t the only person that exists in this city,” he jumped down from the counter wearing a ridiculous red and purple ensemble that had a W on the chest. I couldn’t see his face because it was covered by a full mask that covered everything but his eyes and mouth. I never chose to dress up. It was the police force that came up with my suit idea, but it was nothing like The Watchers. It was functional, plain, and black.

“Well yeah, I am not the only person that exists in this city, great observation W (pronounced more like dubble-ya). That didn’t answer either of my questions.”

“I just wanted to let you know that there’s a new kid in town and his name is The Watcher, you think you’re so big and tough, but you are the only one that can do what you do,” the police lights flashed around and The Watcher walked towards the exit grabbing the two guys who were unconscious and before leaving he looked back at me as if there was a camera catching the moment, “See you around Beatrice.”

Yes, that actually happened, and he has seen me around. We play this catch up game where we are pretty much chasing each other down to try to get to places in trouble first. For me it’s not about the glory or anything, but I can’t say that for him, I do it because I know I do a better job than him. He’s terrible, this Watcher guy. That’s what I tell myself anyways.

The night is like any other. I was at my station which is an abandoned warehouse where nobody ever would think I would hide out, just waiting for something interesting to happen. I popped my buds in my ears for a quick pump up to the tune “Get Me Out of Here” by the band Jet, a song that I simply can’t help but to shout the words out loud to.

I never in my life have had the pleasure of having a giant utensil bashed into my head to provoke unconsciousness, but there’s a first for everything. And that’s what happened.

I woke up tied to a chair. I could feel the stickiness from drying blood that dripped down from the wound on top of my head.

“Are you kidding?!” I shouted assuming that it’s The Watcher going a bit too far, which is not a farfetched idea, “Watcher, if this is you I will seriously to massacre you. I have never touched an innocent person before, but I will bend my rules! I honestly will break your legs if you don’t let me go!”

I hear a nasally half laugh behind me. I cannot move. Whoever had chained me to the chair really wanted me to stay there, “Wow, I wouldn’t expect that from you! You know the kid practically praises you.”

A man about my own age walked in front of me. He looked familiar but I couldn’t place his face. Although I had an idea he was about to cause me a great deal of intense pain he had a weird charm around him.

“Beatrice, you practically own this town. All we want is some recognition, that’s all?”

I was waiting for The Watcher to enter the scene but he didn’t appear. I would’ve thought he’d want in with this beat up Beatrice fest.

“Wally isn’t coming. It’s just me. And now you are wondering who me is? Well I know you don’t recall this but you aren’t the only one like you, obvious with Wally aka “The Watcher” but there is another missing link, and that is me. I am the third kid. And guess what Bea, the bad side pays a lot more. So now, what is going to happen is I am going to take you both out. Because again, the money thing. You know what’s weird though? I would think you’d be in my position, you being so cynical and everything,” he shrugged and cocked his gun and raised it between my eyes.

Too be honest I wasn’t that afraid. I was actually thinking about how I was dying to the song “Look What You’ve Done” and I found it sort of ironic.

But then it never happened. I was waiting for this cool bright light and how I hoped Elvis would great me at the pearly gates, but instead I heard a really loud grunt from someone who was punched in the liver.

I opened my eyes and a kid stood in a purple and red costume with his mask off in front of me. I never imagined The Watcher aka Wally to be so nice looking with his curly blond hair and it was weird but even though I could see his eyes through his mask I never took the time to realize they were blue. He ran to me and unchained me. I was a bit embarrassed that I got myself in the situation I was in.

“Hey Wally,” I said with relief realizing then that I really didn’t want to meet Elvis just yet. I stood from the chair and leaned against the nearest wall because I was shaking severely.

He gave me a weird look and nodded, “You found out.”

“Correct.”

“You okay?”

I stood for a moment and then slid my back down the wall until I was sitting, “I’m a little bit embarrassed.”

He smiled and took a seat next to me. I couldn’t help but to be grateful for him. I even considered taking back my intense dislike for him. We spent all this time trying to get away from each other when we really would be a great team.

“Hey,” he said putting his hand on my shoulder, “We’re only human.”

“As far as we know.”

There’s this weird thing that goes a long with being young and also strangely powerful and it is this notion that I am invincible. The truth is that I am not Superman. I can die from things that are not kryptonite. If I am shot, I’m dead. So The Watchman, he’s going to be my friend, even if he wears a purple and red suit.