How to Survive a Supervillain Attack

Wednesday, March 25: Jina

Then, it's Wednesday. The anniversary of my book and the day I've been dreading all week long. The craters are suddenly secondary news as everyone chatters excitedly about the new book. Every new praise makes me sick to my stomach.

"Ay, Ruby! Are you excited for the new book? I am."

Butterflies slam into my stomach. Not Jina too. "I think," I say, grouchy and showing it, "That Scriptor is doing this as a cash grab. He already has his book and his blog. If he really wants to help people, that would be enough."

"Oh." Jina deflates a little. "Yeah. Ok." 

I feel bad for my harsh tone, but the book release takes up too much of my mind to properly apologize.

This revelation doesn't keep her from asking me to come with her to Scriptor's at lunch. "I'm not buying his new book," I reply.

"You could come watch the reveal with me?" I feel a pang in my chest. If only I could be in two places at once.

"I can't. I have another job, remember?"

"Oh. Right." She looks so disappointed. "I will see you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

We part ways. I head straight for the bathrooms. Lunch can wait. I put my makeup and hair on as usual. I take extra care to change my facial shape in case I meet anyone who might recognize my bare face. I wish I had remembered to bring my mask. I come out of the bathroom stall. I expected at least one other person in the bathroom, but there is no one.

I put soap in my hands.

I turn on the faucet and begin scrubbing.

I turn off the faucet.

I clear the water off my hands with a towel.

I hear a gasp.

Slowly.

(Ever. So. Slowly.)

I turn around.

(Because surely Jina is not gasping because she recognizes me)

(That would be insane)

But why else would there be confused tears brimming in her eyes?

(Surely my luck isn't that bad?)

Is that my backpack in her hands? Had I left that outside the stall?

"R- ruby?" She whispers.

No. This isn't real. This isn't happening.

"You are—are you Zoe? But... Por qué?"

This can't happen. Not again... Not again!

"That is what the pen meant, no? You deceived me! Estás bien pendejo, Jina. I was worried about you trusting me when I should not have trusted you!"

Jina...

"No! Do not say a word! I do not know you! First, that did not matter. Now, no. You have very many secrets! Very many!"

"Let me explain." Am I speaking or thinking?

"I gave you trust. You could not trust me. I leave now."

I want to tell her my life story right here and now. Why can't I find the strength to trust her? Is it really because of what happened before? Surely, this is different. But the words get stuck in my throat.

Jina sees my struggle and failure. Her eyes narrow, and water leaks from them. She opens her mouth as if to say something but snaps it closed again. Firmly wiping her cheeks with her arm, she whips around and storms out.

And I'm left alone.

Alone.

Again.

I feel like I might throw up as I walk my bike on shaky legs to my shop. A crowd of people stands waiting. Am I really going to deceive all of these people? Not a single one suspects anything? That can't be right. This isn't right.

It's demanding keeping the sadness swelling inside me capped.

I'm at the door, stuttering at people to move aside. I should stop. This is too much. I can't do this.

I'm inside. The first person has reached the new book. The chaos begins.

I can't emote. All I can do is survive as person after person after person purchases my book. They don't seem to care that the book is dissing the superheroes they love. They focus more on how the books are $5 each. I would have made them $1k each if I weren't worried people would still buy it.

It was a good idea to write down those names from before. When any of the preorders come around, it takes less time to get them a book than everyone else.

And there are a lot of others. I see many familiar faces come through. Aaron, Group G, M and K, the store owner of that little lunch place, some Futurescape employees, that mother I helped.

Even Jina comes. She avoids looking at me as she buys the book. Her eyes are still red. I wish I had the strength to tell her that I am still deceiving her. I almost break and shout it to everyone.

The end of the day can't come soon enough. I shoo out the remaining customers and lock down the store. I stay leaning against the door for a long time. My breathing is heavy. My eyes burn. I slowly slide down the door and onto the floor. My world which has been cracking down around me shatters. I let out my frustration and my sadness and my pain in sobs.

And, as always, the only person who knows my pain is the distorted figure who takes up my mind with his space.

The printers have been running all day. After restocking the shelves, I turn them off. I am surprised they didn't break down. I wish they had.

I put all the horrible money I had earned in a box and set it aside for charity. It doesn't matter that my electricity bill will be terrible and that I will need to buy more paper: I don't feel comfortable using that money.

When I have transferred all the money to the box, I find a sticky note at the bottom. I hadn't seen it before because of how busy it had been.

"Good job. -V"