Damsel[ed]: Some Rescue Required (#2 of the Damsel[ed] series)

Chapter Eight: A City Without Heroes

Angelos.

Do you remember playing on the swings as a kid? How you kicked up your feet, closed you eyes, and swung as far and high as you could? That's how flying feels. Blood rushing to your head, heart in your throat, falling, falling, falling, then shooting into the sky, high above the other kids.

My wings are stiff like a plane's, and for a minute I hang in the air, sailing in the breeze. It's more instinct than practice. You'd think it would take weeks, months even, to fly, but it comes naturally, like crawling. My wings form the right movements and I coast without thinking about plummeting to my death.

Sure, it's a little rough, my wings are still sore and sensitive, but compared to the thrill of flight, I don't care. Nothing can hurt me up here. I'm free. No psychotic parents or vengeful brother. No unstable, possibly abusive ex-supervillain who I have conflicting feelings about. No dungeons or padlocked rooms or people calling me an 'it.'

It's such a great feeling, I'm even smiling. And I have to admit, I feel pretty guilty about that, with how bad everyone around me seems to feel.

Heaven isn't coping well, and I'm already mad at myself for snapping at her. I remember us as kids, flopped lazily in the park, pointing at the clouds and arguing about their shape.

All these years I've watched her grow more antisocial and mean, lashing out at me, bossing Gats around, trying to "protect" us. So she wasn't just getting "edgier." She was balancing two identities and trying to save Starlight all at once.

Gosh, 'Galaxy' has existed for about three years now. I can't believe Heaven fought crime as a thirteen-year-old, I mean, we were still trading Pokemon cards and doing yo-yo tricks! I can just imagine how it feels for people to think you're the savior of humanity when you're really just a kid who wants to do the right thing. For Hev, It must've been awful. I just wish she, you know, told me.

Maybe I could've made her feel less alone. Maybe I wouldn't have gotten so mad when she didn't finish her part of the stupid tri-fold project thing. Maybe I would've stuck up for her when kids bullied her in school.

My mind wanders back to the dance, as it usually does, and I try to put myself in her position. Dozens of girls dressed like her alter-ego, wanted to be her, when they hated her all the same, whispering nasty things behind her back, tripping her in the halls, shooting her awful looks and studying her the one night she was supposed to have fun.

I suddenly wish I paid more attention to her instead of Jaylin. Protected her, even. After everything's she sacrificed for me, I should've done more for her.

I draw in a long breath. It's chilly up here and I better get home before my guardians worry.

I close my eyes and snap my wings in, letting myself tumble into the abyss. I'm sniffling now. Before I hit the ground, I extend my wings and zoom back into the sky.

I look down. Cars rush up and down the city roads, so tiny it's like I could carry one in the palm of my hand. Zip. Zip. Watching them buzz by relaxes me. I should scream and panic and search for a patch of empty street to land on, but I'm not afraid of falling anymore. It's too beautiful up here for me to be scared of anything.

Is this how Heaven feels when she's superheroing? I'm invincible, gliding over Starlight like a particularly clumsy bird. Or, hey, an actual angel.

I grin. "He's The Angel," I say in my announcer voice. Sure, it's stupid. I can never be a superhero, and calling myself 'The Angel' is about as secretive as 'Look! It's Bruce-Wayne-Man!' but it's fun to dream. "Saving Starlight one flight at a time. Stopping robberies, rescuing kids from strangers in white vans, and wooing the ladies. He—"