Private School Uniforms and Domino Masks (On Hiatus)

You Can't Fight a Legend

We broke apart, my eyes wide in shock, Jason's hazy.

"Okay, that wasn't supposed to happen either."

I leaned back, clutching my head in my hands.  "This sucks," I wailed dramatically.  "I still need to design that damn costume and now there's this to deal with-!"

Jason's eyes sparked with interest.  "That's what you wanted the designs for?"

I nodded.  "Yes.  See, the media calls me the Silver-"

"The Silver Shadow," Jason interrupted.  "Of course.  And the costume-"

"-glitters silver in the light but its black in the dark," I continued.  "See?"

"But once people see your suit, won't they realize that Danica Millers went to see that very same suit and come to the conclusion that it's you?"  Jason asked, frowning.

"They would," I replied, smile stretching my cheeks.  "They would, if Danica Millers hadn't uploaded the pictures onto her Twitter page and tagged it #Cirque du Soleil."

Jason's mouth fell open for almost three whole seconds.  "You're evil," he told me, shaking his head in amusement.

"I know.  It's part of my charm."

"So once it's on Twitter, it'll be available to anyone."

"Exactly."

"And exactly how are you going to create that suit?  It's not like you can take it to your local tailor."

"I'll make it," I replied steadily.

Jason rolled his eyes.  "Look, Dani, there are many things you can do.  But you can't sew.  Or cook," he added as an afterthought.

"I have to," I said determinedly.  "It'll take a while but I can do it."

"With what materials?" he asked skeptically.  "Plain cotton thread doesn't just glitter silver under lights, you know."

I was about to answer when two things happened at once.  First, Jason's cell pone began to ring and second, Damian slid back into the car, three coffees in hand.  He silently passed them around to us, mindful of Jason's phone call.

"Hello?"

There was a small pause then Jason replied, his voice much cooler than before, "Hello, Mother."

Damian and I exchanged winces.  No one in the car had any illusions about exactly how much our parents cared for us.  Or rather, didn't.

"You're at the airport?" 

"Damn," Damian muttered, biting his lip.  "That sucks."

Jason's voice was strained with shock and outrage.  "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

But they had, I recalled suddenly, thinking of the afternoon I had spent at Jason's house, talking about his parents returning soon.  I just hadn't thought it would be this soon.  Damian shook his head in pity.  I had often been jealous of my older brother for his luck in being the elder sibling and leaving for university far, far away.  My parents, of course, hadn't visited home for months, but the fact remained that Damian was light years ahead of me in terms of being independent.  I honestly couldn't wait to be on my own, not having to live up to their ridiculous social expectations and meaningless small talk.

But at least my parents weren't home like Jason's.  It always hurt when they called and I was reminded of how little I really meant to them, but nothing hurt more than being reminded of that fact every single morning and every single night.

"Yes, of course.  Can't wait to see you, Mother," Jason replied curtly into the phone.

He hung up abruptly, his hands shaking and he lifted his head to look at the two of us.  The color had drained out of his cheeks and his skin was waxy and wan.  He looked vulnerable and horrified, his emerald green eyes filled with revulsion and bitter, bitter spite.

I cursed his parents, and my own.  Thinking that it was okay to give your children a good education instead of understanding, expensive clothing instead of affection, a cook and maid instead of honesty and support, a fancy car and a big mansion instead of love.

Don't think I wouldn't have traded places with a lower class family with loving parents in a heartbeat.

Jason let out a slow, controlled breath, his fingers tightening convulsively around his phone.  "My parents wish to tell you that they're very happy about the two of us getting together," he told me calmly.  "They want you to know that you are the best girl to 'manage' me," he added, making finger quotations around the word.

My lips parted but I couldn't think of anything to say.  "I'm sure they won't stay long," I tried.

He gave a hollow laugh that broke my heart.  "Guess again, Dani  They're staying till the beginning of February."

"Well, that's not very long," Damian said, trying to be upbeat.  He put the key into the car and began to head out of the parking lot.  "That's only a mon-"

"How would you feel about spending a month in the same house as your parents?" Jason snarled.

Damian fell silent, knowing that Jason was right, but I could also see the hurt etched onto his features.

The car was silent for a few moments before Jason dropped his head into his hands and whispered, "I'm sorry.  It isn't your fault."

"It's fine," Damian assured him.  "You're right anyway."

"If only I wasn't."

Damian turned to me, an idea sparking behind his eyes.  "Hey, Dani, you know what we should do?" he asked excitedly.

"What?"

"We should design your new gadgets."

I stared at him blankly.  "What on Earth are you talking about?"

He gesticulated wildly, impatient.  "You know, a gas mask, a few weapons, your utility belt, some darts-"

I choked back a laugh.  "Damian, I'm not Batman," I reminded him gently.  I suppose I should have seen this coming; of course Damian would try to turn this into DC.

I mean, his little sister was fighting crime in D.C., it was only natural.  Right?

Damian shook his head urgently as he passed a red Honda.  "No, Dani, you have to," he urged.  "You have a name, a costume-"

"It's an outfit or a suit," I snapped.  "Not a costume.  It makes me feel like I'm at a Cosplay or at Halloween or something."

Damian ignored me.  "To really strike fear into the hearts of those criminals," he continued.  "You need to become a symbol."

"Damian, I really think you might be taking this a tad too far."

"No, he's right," Jason said unexpectedly.  I glanced back at him.  He was staring at me intently, utterly focused.  "Think about it, Dani.  The more of  a symbol you become, the scarier you get.  You can fight a girl, but you can't fight a legend."

I hesitated.  "I'm going to look ridiculous," I warned them.  "And no way am I going to go swinging from building to building on some kind of retractable cable," I added to Damian.

My brother sighed.  "Fine.  But I'll design it anyway, just in case."

"You do that," I told him, rolling my eyes.

"If we get to work now," Jason told me, frowning in concentration, "we should have your utility belt done by the beginning of February."

"Excellent," I said happily.  "Just excellent."