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Alice followed reliably, because of course she did. Vanessa was close to being worthy of a monument in her admirer’s eyes. It was endearing, because Vanessa could relate. When she was starting to identify as trans, she had the biggest crush on a trans lifestyle vlogger. It was not her typical ViewTube channel, but the woman was just confident and charming and everything Nessa wanted to be. It was a weird middle ground between wanting to be with someone and wanting to be more like them, which she found was a surprisingly common occurrence in the LGBTQ communities.

”I’ll teach you well, I promise,” she assured her new pupil. ”One day I’ll bring you through my high level course: how to pull off a resting b****-face that still conveys sexual attraction.” It was mostly a joke, but as a woman with RBF, Vanessa did have to learn to overcome her expressions so she could flirt more effectively.

It was nice to see Alice so excited to be in the New York hub of gay culture and history. The POW Block Party was her second home and it was growing more diverse by the month, but it was still a bit of a boy’s club. It was always nice to have new female blood in the office, particularly when it was someone who could relate to Vanessa on a deeper level like Alice. She had gay and bi friends, but it never hurt to grow that support system. ”It’s definitely some place special,’ she agreed with a warm smile. Some days, she considered relocating into the village and just owning herself as a gay vegetarian artist stereotype.

Taking their seats, Vanessa rested her elbows on the edge of the table, interlacing her own fingers under her chin as she listened to Alice’s story. The words “arranged marriage” caught her off guard. ”Wow… I mean, I only thought that was a thing in rich families and Eastern cultures…” She was not going to judge the people who found happiness in arranged marriages, but she could not see that path for Alice, particularly if the arrangement was a heterosexual one.

The marriage bomb did not carry nearly the impact of “long-lost sister.” It was one of those things you knew happened in the world, but you never expected it to happen to someone you knew. She could see the sister’s name—Serena. Then there was…

A third bomb. Powers. Alice had powers. She was another mutant. Luckily, Vanessa already had an excuse for her stunned, wide-eyed look, or else she could have given a hint to her own powers. ”A surprise sister… Well, that’s definitely a life-changer. And you decided to just go ham and change your whole life by coming here,” she added with a grin. ”For the record, that level of boldness is good. The girls at your college next year will fawn over it.”

A server came to their table, interrupting their conversation for a moment. She ordered the wild mushroom and ricotta ravioli along with a sangria. It was the end of her work day, after all. Once Vanessa had her ID returned to her and Alice finished her order, she realized their age disparity again. ”I hope you don’t mind,” she apologized, shrugging her shoulders.

Returned to their own conversation, Vanessa crossed her legs under the table, reclining in her chair. ”Seriously though, Alice, that’s pretty impressive. Taking your future into your own hands and making such a big leap. Keep that attitude,” she said, nodding to herself. ”I really think it’ll bring you to some exciting places in life.”

Vanessa tipped her hand harder than she was anticipating. Charlie was observant and aware of the possibilities mutation might add to any situation. She was worldly, and the realization opened up Vanessa’s mind to the possibilities that might explain the web of thoughts behind those blue eyes. The depths of thought were unavailable to her, but there was enough on the surface to see age and understanding well beyond the young, taunt body she was pressed against. Charlie was no girl, but rather, a long-lived woman who did not age. Some kind of immortal? The thought was intimidating; a woman with so many foreign thoughts and so much life-experience.

Thankfully, Charlie was not entirely convinced Vanessa’s acute awareness was mutation-based as much as it was cleverness and luck. Things were getting honest, but she had no intention of getting that honest. Booker still had no clue she was a mind-reader, so the last thing she needed was that information getting out to whoever hired Charlie.

The private investigator was being a wall, withholding the information Vanessa wanted, even in her mind. She was keeping her eyes away from Vanessa, (not realizing how effective a tactic that was,) and even when she could catch a glimpse into her thoughts, they were all… well, not job-focused, to say the least. The decades (or maybe centuries) Charlie lived through had certainly given her time to have a creative grasp of sexuality.

As a ripple of sensation coursed through her body at the breathy words in her ear, Vanessa was unsure of exactly how she got into her position. This was not her thing; seducing a mysterious intruder. She was the settle down and couple up girl, even when she tried to pair up with the wrong type of girl.

Much like her evil ex Spencer, Charlie was the wrong type of girl. The difference was she had no interest in getting to know or date Charlie. The frustration of her breakup was still fresh enough in Vanessa’s body, and maybe there was something thrilling about being in such an exciting, taboo situation. Most people would find their post-breakup hookup at a bar or club. Maybe Vanessa’s came in through her window digging for dirt. Who was she to question a bizarre turn of fortune.

The kisses along her neck were making it hard to focus, and she could not let her guard down entirely, (which was a new concept that ran contradictory to her normal instincts when a woman kissed her.) Her hand brushed aside blonde hair so she could lean closer. ”I could hazard a guess of what’s on your mind,” Vanessa said in a low whisper, the tip of her tongue just barely grazing Charlie’s earlobe. ”Maybe there’s something you’d like in exchange?”

Was she really offering sex in exchange for secrets? Heartbreak and hormones brought about an unexpected side of Vanessa, but she was momentarily addicted to the thrill.

In many ways, Vanessa genuinely looked up to her big brother. He was good hearted and would not hurt a fly unless it was the difference between keeping someone safe. If he had some mutation like laser eyes or waterbending, he would be an X-Man in a heartbeat. He was smart and he was strong and he was kind.

He was also human, and had his own struggles. It was never easy to see heroes in pain, lost to the world. When he spoke, it felt distant and absent-minded. Vanessa could not tell if he was speaking to her or to himself. Maybe he was even speaking to someone else. It would not be the first time, and trauma often left people with ghosts to haunt them.

When she touched Booker’s shoulder, his response was immediate and distressing. She managed to startle him into dropping his mop. The clatter against the counter was loud in the silent kitchen, and Vanessa could not help but wince. His own reaction to the sound was more telling. Booker was rattled. Part of him was still back at the house party, and it was never easy to drag him out.

Vanessa had to play the situation slowly, because pushing Booker would only force him to shut down. She leaned over the counter, watching her brother stand there like a shattered soul. She offered a half-smile, doing her best to speak softly and warmly. ”I’ll try, Book. These are your cookies, though. It’s hard to stop with one.” It would have been true even if she was not trying to find any venue to be nice.

”But maybe… you can take a small break anyway?” she hazarded to try again. If left to her own devices, Booker would be like that until morning came. ”I could use the company while I eat my cookie. And maybe we could use some one-on-one sibling time.” It was too ambitious to hope that she could get him to sit down, but maybe she could slow him down. If he could hold still long enough, perhaps she could even pull him from the crumbling house in his mind.

It was one of the few times she was glad she could not see Booker’s thoughts, because even imagining what her brother went through was hard enough.

Nessa lost! The lovely gargoyle had some skill (and maybe an advantage in the form of built-in distractions.) It was very close if one of those tens was a twenty, she would have tied, but she was the one who decided on sudden death. As competitive as she was as a person, she could handle losing to someone like Gina, who was genuinely excited about her victory. How could she be upset losing to someone who immediately covered her mouth so children did not hear her say “crap?” Gina was objectively the cutest thing ever.

The offered fist was appropriately bumped, and Vanessa chuckled. ”I thought I had you, too,” she teased. ”I have half a mind to call a do-over because I was clearly distracted by the pretty girl next to me, but I will accept my lose graciously.”

Wait, did she really just say that? It was so easy to be honest with Gina. While she was not going to be so crass to say, “your boobs are distracting,” (since, as Gina pointed out, there were little ears around,) Vanessa was surprisingly comfortable letting Gina know she was pretty. So pretty, it caused Vanessa to momentarily misplace thoughts and fail at basic motor functions. It was, after all, the truth.

Nervously looking to move past her comment, she hastily added, ”Soooo I guess this means you win.” She took the strip of tickets she earned from the machine and ripped one off, handing it over as a symbolic gesture. ”This is your one official ticket, redeemable for any one thing you want to ask of me. The only rules are ‘no asking for more tickets’ and ‘keep it legal.’” Vanessa was curious about what kind of request Gina would come up with, or what she might ask her to do. It was always the fun part of the betting games. ”Oh, and it’s only redeemable today, so the clock is ticking!”

They still had a handful of tokens, so they spent over an hour at the arcade. They had the time to spare; they got there early and were staying for the fireworks later in the evening. They played several games, including a few video games, with Vanessa giving tips to her less game-savvy counterpart. (She did exact some revenge with a total blow-out in the Road Combatant fighting game, but otherwise she was nice.) The other games they played earned Vanessa enough tickets that, when they finally left, she was walking to the beach holding a small Pokémon plushie cradled in her free arm.

Once they returned to their blanket, Vanessa carefully placed her new friend sitting in the center, away from sand. She looked down at the blanket before turning her attention over to the ocean. ”There’s no point sunbathing when I’m still this dry,” she decided aloud.

Vanessa undid the wrap at her waist, letting it fall to her feet to reveal the bikini underneath. After waiting so long for the ability to wear swimsuits in public, she was always excited to take the opportunity to show off in a bikini. She tucked the wrap under the cooler on the blanket before looking over to Gina. ”Join me for a quick dip?”

Booker was so often the cheery, positive presence to everyone in the waking day. He was a pain on occasion, but he was a good, kind person who was a joy to be around. There were sides of Booker the world at large was not aware of, but those were the sides Nessa was around for, and it was hard to realize her strong big brother had his own demons.

She was aware of what happened to Booker at that college party. It was huge news because, at the time, it made no sense to anyone else. Vanessa already knew Booker had some mutation-cancelling power, even if she was not yet aware of Adapteds as a concept. What happened to Booker’s friend was a tragedy, but Vanessa was just selfishly happy she did not lose her brother in the incident.

An event like that was not something people walked away from unscathed, but Booker’s wounds were mental rather than physical. They were thankfully not a nightly occurrence, but occasionally, she would find him shaken in the middle of the night. The disarray of the kitchen was a sign of his current mental state. He was grasping at projects, occupying his mind, unable to focus himself. The strong scents of cleaning supplies were prominent and clashing with the scents of baked goods, and Booker was oblivious to it all.

Vanessa toughed her way through the odd collection of scents, walking over to Booker. She seemed to catch him off guard, and he tried to smile, but it was clear in his eyes he was not entirely there with her. ”I understand,” she said softly. ”Being a neat freak is one of your admirable roommate traits after all.” Seeing him cleaning in the early hours of the morning was not a comforting sight, but she was trying to keep things soft and light. She wanted to ease into talking to him to make sure he did not just shut down.

He avoided eye contact, asking what she was doing up. Vanessa shrugged her shoulders. ”You know me—got sucked into a video game.”

Vanessa carefully extended her hand, hoping to rest it on Booker’s shoulder if he would allow it. ”The cookies smell delicious, Book. Why don’t you take a small break to eat with me? We can talk a little…”

With something on the line, Gina made the wise choice to avoid video games. The arcade had plenty of options, with fighting games and classic arcade games featured prominently. There was a Dancing game, but Vanessa wondered if putting a winged woman in a small space with rapid movements and people passing by would be safe. Skeeball was a perfect pick to neutralize Vanessa’s advantage as a career gamer, and honestly, who did not enjoy Skeeball?

Gina questioned whether they would go two out of three or commit to a sudden death, winner-take-all match. Vanesa shook her head. ”Oh, only high stakes here. Besides, I don’t need you getting practice in to mount some miracle come back.” The bet was all for fun, but Vanessa was still a competitive person and had every intention of winning. She would consider what she’d ask of Gina when the challenge was over, because she had to have her head in the game.

Choosing a Skeeball lane alongside Gina for maximum taunting, Vanessa prepped a token for the slot. ”Okay, ready? In three… two… one!” The coin slipped into the machine, the scoreboards flashed, and a jingle began to play. The mechanism keeping the weighted wooden balls in place released and the game was on.

Vanessa was confident in her hand-eye coordination, and she was focused on getting a hang of consistent muscle movements. Once she got the hang of things, she should be able to hit fifties with relative consistency, which was key. Hundreds were high-risk, high-reward, because failure meant a trip to the ten hole. A bad fifty had a chance of being a forty, or at least a twenty. If she got to a strong start, then she could take a chance or two on the hundreds. Consistency was key.

She had nine tries. The first throw was to get a feel for how much strength to use. She got into the forty, which was a great start. The next two throws were a forty, followed by the hallowed fifty. Vanessa was confident. ”I wonder what I can come up with for you,” she mused allowed, taunting the friend next to her.

Another fifty! She was doing great. She did not need to look and see what Gina was doing, because that would only get in her head. Instead of looking at Gina’s score, her eyes made an accidental detour to the woman herself. From Vanessa’s point of view, and with Gina leaning down, there was a lot of… well, a lot of Gina on display.

Ten. Wait, ten? What were Vanessa’s arms doing playing at a time like that! She tossed two more balls, but she was suddenly off her game. Thirty and twenty. Not what Vanessa was looking for. Now she was left with two more attempts and a lackluster score. She had to focus. She needed a big win to make up ground, and she could not think about Gina’s chest and expect to hit the hundred.

It was a nice—

Ten! Darnit! Vanessa took a deep breath, focused on the throw, letting the ball glide across the lane, and… one hundred! She could take that! Looking up at the scoreboard on her machine, she assessed her score.


It was not bad! It could be a lot worse, but the last-minute snipe of one hundred points gave her a respectable score.

Nervously, her eyes moved over to Gina’s machine and the accompanying scoreboard…