382. Chapter 382

They’re freshmen.

They’re freshmen and Alex isn’t sure why, but every time she sees Eliza Wilke, a small flash of… something… floods her veins.

It feels a little like she does when her new little sister shows her the powers she has.

Something like jealousy.

Something like feeling… less.

She’s not sure why – she’s made fast friends with Vicky Donahue, and Vicky’s great, Vicky’s funny and a great bio lab partner and likes to read, so why would Alex care that Eliza Wilke and that Maggie Sawyer girl are always laughing together, are always standing close to each other, are always cracking up about some horror movie special effects, are always together, together, together?

She’s not sure why she cares so much.

It’s not like Maggie Sawyer ignores her or anything.

To the contrary.

The first day Alex walked into school to greet the whispers that accompany getting a new sister overnight – a new sister who doesn’t even seem like she’s from this planet – Maggie comes up to her with a soft smile and an offer to help show New Danvers around.

“Siblings can be rough, Danvers, and you didn’t have that whole nine month thing to prepare. Just find me if you want some space to yourself, to adjust or whatever.”

But then Eliza is tugging Maggie along, tugging Maggie away, and Maggie is looking over her shoulder apologetically and mouthing “let me know” and “sorry” and Alex thinks that it’s maybe, definitely, jealousy.

Because she hears Maggie Sawyer give answers in class.

And they’re always sharp. So sharp they make Alex want to know what goes on in that Sawyer girl’s brain. All the time.

But she can’t, because Maggie Sawyer seems to belong to Eliza Wilke.

Until February 15th, that is.

Until February 15th, when Maggie comes to school with swollen, red eyes and disheveled clothes and a jaw set in fury, set in rage, set in total and utter agony. Set in a perpetual challenge.

The whispers are that she’s lucky her father only sent her to live with an aunt. That he didn’t send her to get fixed, because how disgusting is that? How can any girl ever trust her if she’s just going to try to… ew? How can she ever expect to have any friends? There was always something off about her, anyway.

Alex doesn’t just hear what.

Alex hears why.

Something about a note in Eliza’s locker. Something about Eliza telling her parents, and her parents telling Maggie’s parents. Something about Maggie’s parents calling her the scum of the earth.

“Hey,” she shouts across the hall, and Eliza Wilke turns around with defiance in her vaguely red eyes.

“Why the hell would you do that?” Alex demands, slamming her open palm into the locker above Eliza’s head.

She doesn’t care that the entire hallway goes instantly silent, and she doesn’t notice that Maggie is peaking out from the science department office with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Do what, Danvers?”

“How could you do that to her? She’s never been anything but nice to you – “

“Yeah, because she wanted to have sex with me or something – “

“Well she doesn’t deserve to be punished for her terrible taste in women!”

An oooooh rises up from the forming crowd, now, and Alex is seeing red, and Alex doesn’t care.

Because she’s had enough of people making fun of her, of people making fun of her little sister.

Kara’s not in her grade, not even in the same school building as her yet. She can’t always prevent things from happening to Kara. And she’s already beginning to hate herself for it.

But dammit, she won’t fail the girl with the soft eyes and the open heart, too.

“Careful, Danvers, people are gonna say you play for the other team, too!” Rick Malverne snickers from behind her, and Alex turns, and Alex punches him straight in the face.

“Yeah, so what if I did? I’d rather be gay than a jerk like all of you any day!”

Only then does she notice Maggie.

Maggie’s wide eyes and Maggie’s hand under her lips, her face not knowing whether to smile or cry.

Alex flushes and she storms down the hall, away from a groaning Rick, away from a sad-eyed Eliza.

Toward a wide-eyed Maggie.

She tosses her arm around her shoulders and she tugs her away from the crowd, away from… everything.

She knows a place on the fifth floor staircase where no one ever goes.

It’s a good place to come to rest.

To read.

Or to comfort.

“You didn’t have to do that, Danvers,” Maggie says, and her voice is small, defeated. Alex has never heard it like that – and she’s paid a lot of attention to Maggie’s voice, she’s realizing suddenly – and it breaks her heart.

“Well, someone had to,” she brushes it off, collapsing onto a stair and digging into her bag.

“Peanut butter and jam?” she says, and she holds out the entire thing to Maggie.

She’s in yesterday’s clothes. Alex doesn’t imagine her aunt bothered to pack her lunch.

Tears flood her eyes and she nods wordlessly and she lets Alex hold her close while she eats.

Alex doesn’t ask anything, and Maggie doesn’t tell anything.

She doesn’t have to.

“You’re coming home with me tonight,” is all Alex says into the silence of the abandoned stairwell, and she knows that for all Eliza rags on her, she will never turn her back on another child in need.

And Maggie? Maggie is smart, and she’s tough, and Alex, looking at her as though for the first time, thinks she’s the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen.

So beautiful.

Alex knows she can take care of herself. But she doesn’t want her to have to.

“Why?” is all Maggie asks, and Alex thinks of Maggie’s lips briefly, thinks of how it would have made her heart sing if Maggie had left a Valentine in her locker instead of Eliza’s.

But that’s all for later, because now? Now she thinks of Kara. Kara’s nightmares and Kara’s tears and Kara’s stories from back home.

She shrugs and she passes Maggie a tangerine from her bag, because Maggie is hungry and because she can’t stand all the healthy food Eliza packs for her, anyway.

“We’re stronger together,” she offers with a small smile, and when Maggie returns it, she thinks maybe everything’s going to be alright, after all.