"Hi! I'm Sameer Morgan and I'm a 17 year old high school student. I'm a bit of a klutz... and some people might say I'm a hopeless romantic--or whatever. One day, this talking (yeah girl, they be talking in whole English) cat named Luna told me to s...
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"This makes me think of that one Kris Kross song." Clarence says, an amused expression on his features as they glide through the air. They land softly on roof after roof, moving atop the cityscape undetected.
"I think of 'Jumpin' On A Jet' by Future." Andre replies, looking down at the city below them. DC is surely no Las Vegas or Miami, but flying overhead like this gives the city an extra charm that he can't help but smile at.
"Jumpin', Jumpin' by Destiny's Child anyone?" Imani tacks on.
Sameer is keeping up with them physically, but his mind is the furthest from the conversation. Tonight should feel good. Their collective power is stronger with the addition of Clarence, but the only feeling Sameer can focus on is his confusion. There are so many things that happened tonight that left him only more confused than he was when he started. Out of all those things, one remains at the forefront of his mind. His broken tiara. He replays the events. Watching in horror as it was broken over that man's knee. He remembers feeling that paralyzing shock, and the disconnect between him and his weapon when it flickered out of existence. He touched his brooch twice and wasn't able to summon anything. How is he supposed to lead these people if he can't even defend himself?
With what power is he supposed to protect the prince?
"Does anybody have the time?" Sameer asks, suddenly thinking about his curfew, really just ready to go to bed and get this night over with.
"It's 10:22." Imani says, her blue hair jostling in the wind as she soars. "Curfew?"
"Yeah, eleven."
"Oh, you'll be back way before then. We'll arrive back at the yoga studio in about eight more minutes, and then it's only what, a twenty minute drive? You'll have twenty minutes to spare..." Imani trails off, noticing the lilts in Sameer's voice after she has spoken. She turns her head towards him. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
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Saturdays are the best days. They're the only legal day that Sameer gets to do whatever he wants to do (his parents strongly (strictly) request (demand) he do his homework on Sunday). Saturdays are for sleeping in and binge-watching anime and eating copious amounts of cereal. They're not for 10am meetings about the damn Prism Invictus. He pulls an oversized hoodie over his head, tugs shorts over bare legs and steps into the most comfortable slides he can find just in time for the doorbell to ring.
Sameer doesn't say anything when he opens the door. Darius doesn't say anything when he steps inside the house. He wasn't expecting to see Darius. He checks his phone. Andre will be here at any minute. Before he closes the door, Sameer looks out onto the driveway and sees none other than Neymar's car. He pushes air through his nose and fights the urge to call him a tattletale again.
