Aaron Cyrus February 22nd,20XX

Joyce stared at me from across the cheap plastic table provided by the amusement park and was silent. The mask, hat and sunglasses made it impossible to read her expression, but I already knew how she was feeling without seeing her expression.

I’d already explained myself to her, and I’d told her about Archer’s reaction in the car on the way to the secret headquarters or whatever she wanted to call it. To be fair, I’d also told her about the talk we’d had last night, but I didn’t feel like my summary of the teenage boy’s emotional explosion had done it justice.

It wasn’t on purpose, but I’d ended up taking out the part of the scary memory and had just said that Archer had gotten some negative feedback from using his powers, and had focused more on why he’d felt he needed to use his powers. I still didn’t know what he’d seen in my mind, but telling Joyce about it would only worry her more.

My eyes naturally drifted over to the teenager, and I wondered whether he’d severed the connection between our minds. He’d mentioned that he couldn’t cut off hearing my thoughts, but since he’d stopped glaring at me every time I thought about him; I assumed he’d been successful in restraining himself.

Eva had somehow ended up sitting in between us and holding a man-sized stuffed whale. I’d seen Destia win it for her, so I knew how she’d gotten it, but I wondered why she’d wanted it so much. She had tucked the smaller version of the stuffed beast into the waistband of her shorts while her two arms tried their best to hold the giant beast to her chest.

I guessed that there was a history behind the whale, but I doubted she would tell me even if I asked. Or maybe she would tell me, but I didn’t want to risk digging up any poor memories she might have.

Or maybe she just really liked whales.

Joyce tapped on the table, and her long nails created an anxious rhythm. It was a habit she’d picked up recently, but it only came out when she was stressed out. I could tell that what I’d told her was the root of the current mood, but at least she wasn’t angry at me anymore.

There was a lot she had cause to be angry at me for. Suddenly taking the kids into another state, forcing her to follow me with a new super-kid in tow, and not picking up my phone even though she’d called through the night.

I suddenly let out an exhale and avoided her questioning eye contact. I knew I’d been reckless, but listing out everything I’d done made things sound worse than they’d felt.

Memories came to mind as I remembered she’d used to like my recklessness. I knew why she’d developed a dislike toward that trait of mine, but I couldn’t help but feel like a husband in an old couple.

On one hand, I felt bad for having behaved recklessly enough that I could change my girlfriend’s outlook on what she used to consider my best trait, but on the other, it was heartwarming to think we’d been together long enough for her to be sick of such a large part of my personality.

My dad, whenever he was in his right mind, would always say that genuine love wasn’t when you loved everything about the other, but was when you could see all their flaws and still found them worth loving.

It was a rather pragmatic and twisted way to see love, but it was the version I’d grown up understanding.

“Aaron, we already came to an understanding, but I want to check it over with you one more time.”

“Joyce, you don’t need to do this.”

She slightly pulled her sunglasses down and let me see the playful glint in her eye despite the flat tone of her voice. I could tell that she was still angry at my actions, but she’d never been one to hold on to anger for too long.

“Well? See, I didn’t think I needed to do this either? But considering the last time I thought we had a mutual understanding you ended up in another state with four children in tow, I want to make sure we’re on the same page. “

Fair. It hurt to hear, but it was fair.

“Fair. But I agree, for now, it makes sense to take the kids back to the building. But you need to find some therapists for them and I want their weekends free.”

Even with over eighty percent of her face hidden, I could tell that she was about to interrupt me, but I sped into my next sentence. I needed to make it clear I would not back down on this.

“I know you’re worried about their powers, and that’s fair, but they’re kids before they are superheroes. They should keep going to school. Even if you don’t want to help, I have a few connections with my old high school I can use to get them all in, and I want their weekends free.”

“That barely leaves them with a few hours in the weekdays to train! And what about the ‘Pages’ program!”

She immediately shot down my suggestion and came forth with another proposal in her ‘business’ voice.

“They can go to school part time; I can make that happen. And they can have their weekends off, but only if they finish their requirements through the week. That’s at least 20 hours with the scientists, 4 hours with a therapist, two videos, and they maintain an eighty average.”

Joyce was a lovely person and was extremely kind, but she was a monster with work, and she expected the same energy from others.

“Twelve hours with the scientists a week, 4 hours with the therapist, one video every two weeks at the minimum and a seventy average.”

She shook her head, and a curl escaped the hat she’d haphazardly put on. It was such a charmingly awkward thing that contrasted with her business-like persona, but I couldn’t laugh.

“I can take the twelve hours, but I won’t back down on the eighty average, and the video weekly. I’ll take care of all the editing, writing, and filming, but Squire needs them to come out with a lot of content. All they have to do is stand in front of the camera and say a couple of lines.”

“You’re forgetting that I ‘stand in front of a camera and say a couple of lines’ for a living. It’s not as easy as you think it is. We can keep the eighty average but take it down to one video a week. And let them decide what they want to do for the videos. I know Eva and Kaja already have a few ideas in mind.”

And so we came to an understanding.

Eva, who I’d thought was ignoring us in favour of her phone and the giant whale, suddenly spoke up. But she didn’t speak with her mouth.

I want Archer to make music. He’s good at it.

The first thing I could think of was how oddly natural it was to hear another voice in my head. I wasn’t even aware that the voice in my head had a particular sound, but once I heard Eva, I could feel how similar but different it was from my speaking voice.

But back to being spoken to, though my mind.

I didn’t know what I’d expected it to sound like, but her ‘voice’ was overwhelming. If mine was at a volume of five, hers was at fifteen. Not to say it was loud or difficult to hear, but it was powerful and quickly dwarfed any of my thoughts.

A look at Joyce told me she’d heard Eva as well, but she handled it much better than I did.

“Archer makes music?”

Yeah. He left his notebook back at the old house, though.

“Oh, I can take him back to get it. But don’t you want to be on camera as well?”

She shook her head at first, but then sent a bashful look to Joyce. While she wasn’t an expressionless child, she wasn’t the most forth giving with her facial expressions. It was odd but welcoming to see her be so honest with her feelings.

Maybe sometimes? I wouldn’t want to be there all the time in case I bothered him.

It was a very child-like response, but Joyce seemed to have gained inspiration from it. I spent the next few hours being ignored as Joyce and Eva traded ideas.