ID and Costume

"So how should I go about getting a boy to talk to me?" I asked. If I could get some practical advice, I could have a starting point for a series of experiments.

"Just say 'hi'." Jim said. "It doesn't take much. If I guy knows a girl is interested, that's all he needs."

I couldn't believe it was that simple. If I picked a boy out and went over and said 'hi', he would feel empowered and talk to me. Otherwise, I could stand in a room full of boys and the only ones who would talk to me were the ones with egos already so inflated that they were the last ones I wanted to be around. That type only thought about themselves, only talked about themselves; they were totally one-dimensional. So the interesting boys were the ones that I would have to approach. This was a really screwed up system. At least it was weighted in the girl's favor. I could pick and choose.

I remembered Bambi telling me that men would throw themselves at my feet. My problem was that I wanted them standing on theirs, not groveling at mine. But if all I had to do was tap them with my magic wand to get what I wanted, perhaps that would be enough.

Bambi also told me I was a goddess. I did not want to be a goddess. I wanted to be normal. I chuckled at that. 'Normal' was completely out of the question. I was going to have to work to come to terms with the new me. I knew that, but I was learning that it was going to be a lot harder than I thought. Everything seemed strange. It was like I had moved to a new world where everything I thought I knew was wrong and I had to learn how to act all over again.

Neeka left us at her house to tell her mother that she was home safe and Bud and Jim and I walked on to ours. Bambi was waiting to talk to me, so the boys went off to get a start on their homework. I got the impression that them attending to homework before doing anything else was a habit they picked up from me.

"You look troubled," she said.

"I made an unpleasant discovery on the way home."

She waited patiently. I could talk about it or not. I decided it was something she needed to know.

"I found a new mental power. One that in hindsight should have been predictable."

"You're getting smarter." She said, nodding.

"How did you know that?"

"Listen to yourself. It's obvious every time you open your mouth. Last night when you were talking to Bob Foster he had a hard time relating to you at first. What he has seeing and what he was hearing didn't fit. Once he accepted that you were some kind of female super-spook he was able to cope."

"I just tried to talk his language."

"And did it so marvelously well that he thinks you must be the product of some secret government program to breed super-agents. That's why he dropped the questions about you. That's why he decided it would be healthier for him not to know. You remember when he talked about 'who you work for'? He thinks you are here to get some seasoning in field-work before your agency calls you back in."

"Holy shit. 'Pardon my French'."

"He thinks I'm your control. You should have heard him on the phone today when I called to follow up on your requests. It was all, 'yes, ma'am' and 'yes, Mrs. Reynolds, I'll get right on that'. He even mentioned 'inter-agency cooperation'. The man has completely forgotten that I've known him and his wife for years."

"I just wanted to impress him."

"Oh, you impressed him all right. Look what came by courier while you were at school." She handed me a leather wallet. When I flipped it open there was a badge and an ID card inside. The badge said Special Deputy. The ID was for Samantha Kramer and the photo was the one from my school yearbook.

"He said this was the easiest way to guarantee you would get full cooperation from other law enforcement agencies. Flash this and they will know you are a brother officer."

"Does this mean I can arrest people?"

"You bet. Although I think your arrangement calls for someone in the Sheriff's department to get the credit for any arrests you make. That way you won't have to appear in court when they go to trial.

"He said he could send you some handcuffs and mace and even issue you a firearm if you wanted, but he thought your methods were likely to be as effective as any hardware he could provide."

Something about him mentioning my 'effective' methods raised a flag. I asked, "Did he say anything about the kidnapper from last night?"

She looked at me hard before she answered, as if she was afraid of my reaction to the news. "He's in the hospital. The doctors are trying to reconstruct his knee. It's 50-50 whether he will keep the kidney."

I took a deep breath. I remembered that I had not even been tranced when I did that. I had hit him too hard both times. I might have killed him. It would have been easy. I needed to learn control before I got into any more fights. Until I learned to use my abilities effectively I would be a loose cannon. No wonder the Sheriff was so cooperative. He had seen me nearly kill someone with just my little patent-leather mary-janes.

"You're right about the costume. I'm going to need something rugged to work in." It felt funny thinking of it as my 'work'.

"I called Mr. Morton first thing this morning." She said. "I decided not to beat around the bush. I told him you needed a super-hero costume; a real one. He was quiet for a very long time. Then he asked if you wanted a cape with it. I told him that was for the fictional characters; that we were talking about the real thing. I told him that this was extremely confidential. He was offended. He told me that all his work was strictly confidential. Then he asked if it needed to be bullet-proof. I told him it needed to be as impervious as possible and as light as possible and as flexible as possible. He promised to have some designs for you to look at tomorrow when we go back to pick up the rest of your wardrobe. When I hung up he was quit excited. I'm still not sure he believed me, but he seemed genuinely enthusiastic."