1.02

The bus ride home had me thinking about Emma, my former best friend. Our falling out, her betrayal with my secrets, and her alliance with Sophia had been devastating. My backpack, soaked with grape juice, was a minor concern compared to the ruined notebook inside – my journal for my burgeoning superhero career. It contained my power testing, name ideas, and costume measurements, all now lost or damaged. I had painstakingly encoded the contents after a previous incident, but now faced the daunting task of rewriting it all.

Arriving home, I felt a sense of relief. The house was a sanctuary from the constant threat of bullying. In the shower, I tried to find a positive spin on the day’s events. “Yet another reason to kill the trio,” popped into my head, a dark, non-serious thought fueled by frustration. My power, while not formidable, felt like a weapon I was constantly tempted to use, though I lacked the killer instinct.

Focusing on the positive, I fixated on the ruined notebook. I headed to the basement, an old, unfinished space with a boarded-up coal chute I used for privacy. Retrieving a gym bag, I emptied it to reveal my costume in progress. I then gathered black widow spiders, one of the more dangerous spiders in the States using my power, selectively choosing them for their silk.

Three months ago, I had started preparing to become a superhero. It involved exercise, power training, research, and the challenging task of creating a costume. Buying one risked being traced, and making one from scratch was laborious. Inspired by a documentary about a synthetic spider silk suit, I decided to use the real thing.

Finding and maintaining the black widows was difficult. They needed specific conditions, and I had to ensure they didn’t kill each other. I used my power to make them breed and fed them to produce more silk. The costume, though not yet visually appealing, was flexible, durable, and lightweight, even with the armor made from insect exoskeletons and reinforced with spider silk. I hoped it was bulletproof, at least in the vital areas.

The plan was to finish the costume by the end of the month and start my superhero career in the summer. But the ruined notebook changed everything. I realized I was procrastinating. The destroyed journal was a burned bridge, forcing me to move forward. I decided to go out as a superhero next week – no, this weekend. No more delays. It was time.