Chapter 19: Sling
STAY WITH ME: A Superhero Novel
Katrina trudges through Estreya State College’s hallways like a zombie, her injured arm hanging limp. White cat hairs are scattered all across her black dress. Her skin is pale, her hair is dry, and her prosthetic one-arms her backpack, keeping it off the bad shoulder.
Char sees Katrina coming from the lockers. At first, there’s a spark of excitement as she turns to face her friend, but very quickly, her face falls at the sight. “Whoa, holy shit, what happened?” Char exclaims.
Mind so clouded with worry and fatigue, it takes Katrina a moment to realize what Char could be referring to. Shoulder? No, shoulder’s not visible… eye. Black eye. Bad.
“Uh, hey,” Katrina says quietly. She turns to her locker and pops it open. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
Char frowns. Hovers close at Katrina’s side. “Did you get into a fight?”
“Char,” she says in a far more prickly fashion than she would like, “I just said I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on with you since you won’t tell me,” Char says, frustrated, “And so yeah, I’m assuming you got into a fight.”
Katrina heaves a deep sigh as she scoops one book from her locker into her backpack. She looks up at Char solemnly.
There’s enough emotion in Char’s eyes to tell Katrina that it’s not all anger.
Katrina’s expression softens. She mumbles, “I tried paying a fare-hopper’s ticket. Fucking pig nailed me with a baton.”
Char draws back, her eyes widening with emotion.
“Can we talk about something else?” Katrina asks with a hint of aggravation.
Char nods. “Yeah, um… yeah. There’s this new pizza place in the Oven. It’s all vegan. You want to go after class?”
Katrina turns towards her with a weak smile. “Oh, Randy’s?” A glow comes into her eyes as she becomes entranced by the notion, but it dies out fast. “Sorry, I got, um…” She checks herself: Does she need to lie about this too? Probably not, thankfully. “...I’m going to Kenpō right after my last class, sorry.”
Char arches an eyebrow. Her mouth opens slightly.
Katrina winces. She should have lied.
“I know how it sounds,” Katrina says calmly, “I turn up with a pretty bad black eye and all of a sudden, I’m back on the Kenpō track. But I swear to you, Char, I didn’t get into a fight.”
Char smiles weakly, but by her eyes, it’s clear that she’s not convinced. “So why are you going then?”
“What is this? Twenty questions?” Katrina groans, “I don’t know. I just decided this morning that I got some tension I need to relieve, and I thought that sparring with someone might help.”
Char nods and stares at Katrina with doleful eyes.
Katrina shuts her locker a little too loudly. “What?” she snaps.
Char opens her mouth. Considers her words carefully. Then shrugs.
“Katrina, I know you’re lying,” she says quietly, “I know you’ve been lying. For a while.”
Katrina’s expression hardens, betrayal in her eyes.
Char steps back, anxious. “Katrina. This is why this…” She starts to wave her hands between the two of them, just like she did back in the auditorium so long ago.
“Yeah, that’s why this can’t be, or whatever, I know,” Katrina growls, “I’m sorry. I’m going through some shit right now, and I don’t want to burden you with it, okay?!”
Stupid, she tells herself. You stupid. Fucking. Idiot.
“Shit,” Katrina swears, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so—I’m trying my best, alright?”
Char steps further back. It’s as if the two girls were on two different islands. For so long, they’ve drifted together but now, they drift apart. The distance between Katrina and Char widens, and neither party is willing to take the leap over.
“This sucks, Kat,” Char says, once again waving her hands between the two of them, that obnoxious gesture that makes Katrina feel so angry on the inside, “But this is still better than the crap you’ve been trying to sling lately.”
Katrina blinks, stunned at such an admission. “What?”
“I’ve known you almost your whole life,” Char says, dropping her voice to a whisper, “You think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”
Katrina doesn’t know what to say.
So Char continues, “And listen, I know you’re going through a lot right now, and I’m not saying—I’m not saying the lying is a deal breaker. I understand, okay? You nearly just lost your Dad, you…” She stops for a second, giving into a fit of tears.
Katrina reaches towards Char.
Char swats her away. Angry now. “I just need you to start being honest with me, right now.”
Katrina suddenly feels so cold. As if submerged in ice, her extremities freeze. She realizes now that her whole life has gone off course, and everything is wrong. She sucks in a deep breath and embraces Char. Throws her good arm around the girl’s back and pulls her in as close as she can. Their chins hook onto the other’s shoulders, and it makes Katrina feel a slight burning sensation. But the pain is worth it. It’s worth Char.
Char is hesitant to the touch at first but welcomes it after some internal battle within herself.
“I don’t want to be mad at you,” Char says weakly, “but you’re really… really pushing it.”
“I know,” Katrina says, “I can do better, alright? I can—”
“Are you two in the middle of a thing?” someone says from behind them. “Because I had some new material I wanted to dive into.”
Deming crosses his arms, unimpressed by the situation.
Butch bobs in. “Are you two finally an item?”
Katrina and Char look back at the two stooges. Katrina breaks to look back at Char for a reaction.
“No!” Char says angrily.
Katrina furrows her brow and manages to say “No!” just a hair after Char does.
“God dammit,” Butch groans, punching the air.
“I know!” Katrina shouts.
Deming shakes his head, fingers hooked around his belt loops. “I agree.” He holds that stance for some time. “Anyways, on with the bit!”
Katrina sighs and loosens her grip on Char. She turns towards Deming, still one-arming her backpack. “Alright, get on with it, you Yes-And Freak.”
Deming flashes his teeth. “Okay, yeah, it’s that thing you’re doing right now. Can’t do it.”
Butch pops his head over Deming’s left shoulder and clicks his tongue like a disappointed mother.
Katrina frowns. “What? Having extremely public displays of emotional unrest?”
“No!” Deming scoffs, “One-arming the backpack, that is. It’s, uh, my thing.”
Butch then pops his head over Deming’s right shoulder. “It’s his thing.”
Deming nods. “Cease and desist. Butch?”
Butch lumbers forward, grabs onto Katrina’s loose backpack strap, and raises it into the air. He shoves her arm through the loop and releases the backpack, all the weight crashing onto both shoulders and—
Katrina bites her tongue while suppressing her scream.
“Whoa!” Deming reels back. “Kitty Kat, are you okay?”
Katrina locks her jaw in place and gives Deming the dead-eyed stare of the century.
Deming leans back and pats Butch on the shoulder with urgency.
“Aw criminy, Butch!” Deming cries out, “We better amscray!”
They bolt.
Char cringes and keeps a safe distance away from Katrina. “Shit. Um… I’m sorry. I understand there are boundaries you have up right now that you don’t want me crossing, and I’m sorry for overstepping… but are you okay? That looked like it really hurt.”
Katrina looks over to Char and sighs, unslinging the backpack and reluctantly peeling back the flannel to reveal the purpled shoulder. Splotches of yellow, bruised flesh and the imprint of a knuckle.
Char gasps, arms curling inward, hand folding over their mouth.
Katrina flashes Char an annoyed look. Happy?
She neatly hides the wound again and groans. “I’ll let you know about pizza later, okay? Sorry, I gotta go to class.”
Katrina leans into her bare foot, ankle bobbing her up and down. Wrapped in a white gi with a black sash tied around her waist, she raises her fists. With no extra nervous system flowing through her body, she is in full ownership of what happens here. She smirks, ready for anything.
Lucius waits for her on the sidelines, arms crossed at his chest. She forgot she made a promise to him that they would spend time together this afternoon, so double dipping was the only option. Knowing she could have done the same with Char hurts a little, but she needs this. She needs to fight without a safety net.
The brown belt boy opposite her lashes at her with a series of quick punches. She dodges them easily and slips into the opening he makes, grappling him by the stomach. His flesh writhing under her grip feels good.
She pushes the boy off his feet, but he quickly latches onto her with his legs. He hooks them around her back, using his grip to lift his body above hers. It throws her majorly off-balance. She tilts forward dangerously but before tumbling all the way, she slams one foot behind her and swings her whole torso backwards against her hips. Her back crashes into the mat, and the boy rolls off her. She pops back to her feet with a quick skip, hopping rapidly from left to right with a smug grin on her face.
“Round one!” the instructor shouts, gesturing to Katrina, who couldn’t be more pleased with herself.
“Hey!” Lucius whisper-shouts to Katrina with his hand besides his cheek. She looks at him, and he feigns a cross-eyed imitation of her smarmy smirk. Then he sweeps a hand over his face, going completely stoic and straight faced. Knock it off.
Katrina rolls her eyes. So much of her life is a performance now, to continue masking her feelings is frustrating. Why can’t she just be Katrina Gawain right now? Why does she need to go through the motions?
The instructor claps, and they’re back in. Katrina darts at the boy, throwing herself into a set of twirling kicks. Again and again, her leg swings over her head. He dodges, and her bare foot slams against the rubber mat. Her other leg goes high and propels her forward. Style with no substance. She knows this won’t work, she just wants to see what this kid can do.
He merely dodges her advances. He doesn’t grab her leg mid-flight. Doesn’t clothesline her mid-flip. There’s no imagination to it. He’s greener than her. So she gets daring and springs upwards, rolling her curled arms about like she’s a boxer.
She waggles her eyebrows, and the boy’s face goes red.
He throws a punch, and Katrina leaps backwards. She goes for a kick. He dodges. She leaps to the side, quickly skipping in a circular pattern around the boy. He twirls after her, and she bobs in. Another easily telegraphed kick from the boy, and she leans back, foot missing her by two feet. Promptly, she jumps back in. He tries the same exact kick again.
“Again?” Katrina quips as she bobs away from his foot. “Hey, maybe third time’s the charm.”
The boy aggressively moves in for a roundhouse kick to her stomach. She twists to the side and boosts herself onto her toes, pirouetting around his leg. She slips through his defenses and ballerina kicks the guy in the jaw, sending him sprawling over on the mat with a very satisfying thump!
Katrina throws her hands to her hips as the instructor begrudgingly declares her the winner, despite her supremely bad form. Katrina grins to herself and scans the room for reactions, locking eyes with her father.
Lucius smiles faintly with a knowing look in his eyes.
“I have a couple of notes for you,” Lucius sighs with exasperation.
Katrina presses her cheek against the plexiglass window to the bus and sighs. She sings softly, “♫ Far too many notes for my taste, and most of them about Christine! ♫”
Lucius snorts. “I mean, I think you know the damage here. You did Kenpō for a long time, kiddo, you know it’s about self-defense.”
Katrina turns around and looks at him, hoping to get off easy. “Dude was lashing at me like a snake!”
“Oh please, Kat, you baited him,” Lucius scoffs, “I don’t know, just… I’ve never seen you act like that before.”
There’s a distant look in Lucius’s eyes, as if he were having trouble recognizing her and is searching for something familiar. Char gave her the same look.
Katrina shrugs and slouches deeper into the bus seat. “I’m fine.”
Lucius blinks and shakes his head. Looks out the window and suddenly jolts with excitement. He splays his hands and face flat against the window, looking at some green building they’re going by. Randy’s, the vegan fast food joint Char invited her to. Lucius taps at the window enthusiastically, looking back at Katrina with a very silly desperation.
“Dad,” Katrina suppresses a giggle. She does not sanction this buffoonery.
Lucius jolts again and tugs down hard on the yellow cable.
“Stop requested,” a female voice says on the bus’s intercom.
Lucius looks back at Katrina with a wily grin on his face. “C’mon, it’s funny.”
“Oh, alright.”
A few minutes later, the two Gawains sit outside Randy’s. It’s an outdoor seating area with bushes and some flowers. Their greasy paper bag of food is empty. Two massive cups of french fries sit before them.
Katrina munches on a fry she dipped into her strawberry milkshake. “You know, you can’t bribe me into telling you what’s up.”
Lucius looks at her smugly. “So something is up.”
“Yeah, something’s up,” Katrina mumbles, “I don’t want to get into it, it’s… too complicated.”
“Mm,” he hums in agreement, “I understand. Well, when you’re ready—if you’re ever ready—no pressure, I’m here.” He looks at her lovingly, and a faint pink crawls into her cheeks. She turns away, staring out at the city streets. Lucius pipes up again, “Hey, uh, I need to apologize for something.”
She looks back at him, blinking in confusion.
He turns towards her with this familiar energy, as if it’s obvious what he’s fessin’ up to. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to spend much time with you.”
Katrina rears back slightly with surprise. Of all the things her father could apologize for, she never thought it would be that. He looks at her with guilt in his eyes, a sad smile on his face. Her father is her world, and now she’s hurt him too.
She embraces him hard just like she did Char, arms wrapping tightly around his back. Surprised, Lucius stays still for a moment before loosening up. Gently, he places his hand on her back.
“Work has really piled up on me lately,” he says, voice a little strained at first, “Turns out nobody filled in for me when I was conked out, and it’s why I haven’t been able to spend much time with you, and… I don’t have a solution quite yet. I put in a proposal that they hire another organizer to work with me, but they’re definitely going to reject it… it doesn’t matter, the point is… I’m sorry.”
Katrina pulls away and flumps back into her seat. “I’ve been distant too. Uh, you know, pulling extra shifts and stuff… and I’m sorry too.”
He smiles warmly at her. “It’s alright. That arm of yours is a pretty penny.”
Katrina smiles back then thinks things over for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” he chirps, pulling out one singular french fry to devour.
“Why did you get a job at the Center?” she asks, “I mean, you hate it there, don’t you? It’s like… a massive compromise of your politics.”
He cocks his head to the side, looking at her curiously. “After you came into my life, Katrina… well, you have to make compromises to survive in this world. At least, when you have other people relying on you.”
She starts to sigh with frustration.
He continues, “And I know you’re an adult, and I know you want to go fifty-fifty with me on everything, except for, ahem, your freaky cyborg arm, with me on everything, and that’s fine, Kat. Really. But this job… just adds some extra insurance.”
She presses her lips together. Sips from her milkshake to stall her answer. “I’m sorry I called it a compromise of your politics.”
“It’s okay, I get it,” Lucius says, “The Center is so focused on nationwide advocacy, which I don’t believe is a good organizing model. I mean, if it was possible to fix these problems the way that we’ve been trying… I’m preaching to the choir, I know, but shouldn’t we be further along? All this money gets thrown around, and it never goes to the people. Just to rubbing board members’ tummies and financing more fundraising. But at a bare minimum, it’s helping us, two struggling trans people, and that has to be enough.”
She looks at him hard. “What do you want to do next?”
He looks back at her with some confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Well, at some point, you’ll retire, right?” she asks, “Then what? Do you think you’ll go back to organizing locally?”
He turns away and leans back into his seat, thinking. It takes him a few seconds. “It’s probably not the answer you want to hear, Kat, but by the time I can retire, if I can retire, I’ll be old. And I’m not sure how good I’ll be as a real mutual aid organizer, it’s been so long since I’ve had to use that skill set.”
Katrina eyes him anxiously. “Got it.”
“Why do you ask?”
She looks away and out at the parking lot. Quickly, thoughts of her father’s future shift to her own. There’s a world out there that won’t need a Nightmare, but what if that’s today and she’s just not seeing it?
Is she really helping?
Is there an end in sight, or will she do this until she drops dead?
What else should she do? Who else should she be? Who else can she be?
“Kat?” Lucius frowns.
Katrina blinks and shakes it off. “Sorry. I…” It takes her a moment to find her footing again. “I ask because I love you and want to know more about you?”
Lucius chuckles and reaches out, hand gliding into her hair. His thumb brushes across her cheek, and she finds herself leaning into his touch.
It’s nice.
Sometimes, when it gets really late, and it feels safe, Nightmare drops down to the city streets in the Oven. It’s important for her that she sees Estreya the same way everybody else does. Something about being down here reminds her too of her mortality. That’s also important. In just a few hours, she’ll be at work as another victim of capitalism, just like everyone else.
“Hey!” a voice cries out, “Hey!”
She looks across the street and sees a kid who clearly just shoplifted from the corner store on one-ninety-seventh and Jameson. The owner stands at the door, crying out desperately for the kid to stop, but the kid keeps running.
Nightmare squints. She’s pretty sure she’s been to this corner store. The owner’s name is… Claudia? She only ever gets help on the weekends, so she works there about seventy hours a week? Maybe?
“I can handle this,” she mutters to the Old Guy.
“I trust you,” he says before going offline. This has been happening more and more lately. She wonders what he’s up to during his downtime… probably more work, if she’s being honest.
“Hey!” Nightmare waves the kid down.
The kid skids to a stop and looks at Nightmare with wide, terrified eyes. Wide, terrified eyes that only narrow with confusion when he sees the disarmingly friendly look on Nightmare’s face. She gives him a thumbs up then waves for him to come closer. A little rattled, the shoplifter walks over to her.
“Hey,” Nightmare says casually, “I get it, man. But that’s a small store owned by a struggling family. Do that at like… I don’t know, Wal-Mart next time. Or Target!”
The kid nods. “Target?”
“Yeah.” Nightmare puts her hands on her hips. “But don’t go over two thousand dollars, or they’ll hit you with a felony.”
“Wait, really?” The kid frowns. “I’ll look into that, but are you, uh, going to make me give this stuff back?”
He flashes the goods at her. It’s mostly baby products. Diapers and the like.
She gives the kid a sympathetic look, feeling awfully uncomfortable as an authority figure. She shakes her head. “No. I’ll go in and smooth things over. You keep going, okay?”
The kid nods and awkwardly runs off.
Nightmare pats down her cape and walks towards the convenience store. Sure enough, the place is called Claudia’s Corner. Just before Nightmare swings the door open, she mutters to herself, “Yeah, I know the shit out of this city.”
The bell chimes as she walks in. The corner store is small with three aisles. One for junk food and baby products, one for canned food and other non-perishables, and one along the wall with fresh produce. The aisles are clustered tightly together with lots of dead space across the floor.
The corner store is brightly lit by fluorescent lighting. A small maine coon comes right up to Nightmare’s feet and takes a seat before them, their bushy tail gently swishing about. Nightmare bends down to the cat and pats them on the striped head, only to be swatted away by the cat’s paw.
“Ooh!” Nightmare gasps quietly, “Feisty.”
“Oh, she can be a handful.” The owner, Claudia, stands up from where she was crouched down between aisles. She has weathered skin and gray, frizzy hair tied back into a bun. “Edna is—”
She stops talking when she sees the Nightmare.
Nightmare offers Claudia a meek handwave. She feels very out of her element under bright white fluorescents such as these. She saunters over to Claudia.
“How much did they steal? Roughly?” Nightmare asks, pulling out her wallet. She ruffles through her cash.
“Uh.” Claudia seems uncomfortable with the exchange. She looks around nervously. “About eighty three dollars worth. But you don’t—”
Nightmare holds out five twenty dollar bills. “Want to call it an even hundred?”
“I can’t take your money, uh, Nightmare,” Claudia says.
Nightmare holds the money out for an extra moment. Decides to cut her losses and stuff it back into its wallet, secretly thankful that Claudia declined.
“That kid,” Nightmare starts, “I think he was in a bad place. I told him to stay away from corner stores like yours, and for what it’s worth, I don’t think he’ll make the same mistake again.”
Claudia presses her lips tightly together. She nods mechanically. Turns around, a dour look on her face. She retreats back to her register behind the counter. “Thank you,” she sighs.
Nightmare eyes her warily, wondering what more can be done here. “Does this happen a lot?”
Claudia nods. “Often, and I feel for them, I do. But at a certain point…”
Nightmare steps closer to the counter. “I understand. Is there anything I can do?”
Claudia shakes her head. “No, unless you want to start arresting shoplifters. The things those officers do to those people…” Claudia shudders. “Ugh! Anyways, I appreciate your concern, Nightmare. But you can keep going. I’ll handle it.”
Nightmare came here to settle things and make them right, and now she’s being told there’s nothing to be done. It doesn’t sit right with her.
Suddenly, her stomach grumbles. Once again, the great Nightmare has forgotten to eat dinner. She sighs to herself and looks for a snack bar. It takes three seconds for her to find one. She steps into the aisle, only for her cape to get caught on the endcap, largely because the aisles are so narrow. She wrestles the cape free and marches up to the register, silently putting the bar down in front of Claudia.
“Sorry about the shelves,” Claudia says as she unfolds the plastic wrapping to the bar so that she can scan it. “I know those aisles are kinda narrow. I’d move them farther apart myself, but my back…”
Nightmare looks up at Claudia. “You want me to do it?”
“Hm?” Claudia leans in. “Oh, I couldn’t ask that of you.”
Nightmare flexes her arm. “I got super-strength, baby. C’mon. Let me give it a whirl.”
Claudia looks at Nightmare with hesitation and nods stiffly. “Okay. You can try.”
Nightmare understands the hesitance, so she takes it nice and slow. She grabs the shelves and gently pulls them outwards, careful not to disturb any of the merchandise hanging off the hooks. It’s very easy. No strength-enhancers required. Meanwhile, Edna the cat follows Nightmare around, yelling angrily at her for her to stop changing things.
Nightmare looks back at Claudia. “What do you think?”
“Too close to the door,” Claudia says from the counter.
Nightmare nods. Pushes the shelf back and—
“Ow!”
Nightmare stops. Leans against the shelf, gripping her shoulder.
Claudia leans over the counter with a panicked expression. She rushes off to the backroom.
Nightmare holds a hand out. “Claudia, don’t. I’m fine, I—”
Five minutes later, Nightmare sits in the backroom, her flesh arm fully exposed. The Nightmare gauntlet and arm lie on her lap, and she looks around anxiously while Claudia fixes her up. She pats the shoulder wound delicately. Nightmare doesn’t know what Claudia is even using, but it definitely burns her skin.
Nightmare twitches involuntarily, and Claudia playfully swats her on the knee.
“Stay still,” Claudia says coolly.
All the while, Edna patiently sits across the Nightmare, watching her carefully.
Eventually, Claudia marches out with a sling. Without asking, she starts to fit it onto Nightmare’s arm.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Nightmare scrunches her legs in to wall Claudia off. “I can’t—Claudia, if the pigs see that I’m injured—”
“You’re wrapping up for the night, aren’t you?” Claudia says quietly, “And you only need this for a day or so.”
Nightmare nods. “Okay, fine.”
A warm feeling swells in her chest, and suddenly she feels less lonely in The Suit. Immediately, Nightmare starts talking telepathically.
“I know this looks bad, but she’s right, Old Guy. I’m in pain.”
“Right,” the Old Guy says, “but this is a bit much.”
“You can already tell I’m a white girl by looking me in the eye,” Nightmare thinks back, “Plus, she’s right. I should be taking this wound more seriously.”
“...I understand.” And that’s the last thing the Old Guy says about it.
Nightmare relaxes. Lets Claudia put her arm in the sling. The moment Claudia steps away though, Nightmare shrugs her cape over the sling so it’s at least covered. Granted, the slung cape makes her look much more like a matador than usual, but them’s the breaks.
Suddenly, Edna becomes attentive. She leaps off her chair and onto Nightmare’s lap. Crawls around the cape and stuffs her face inside the Nightmare’s sling. Nightmare furrows her brow for a moment, confused as to where this is going, and then—
Lick!
Edna licks Nightmare’s hand. And then she licks it again and again. Like an overexcited puppy.
Nightmare giggles.
“Oh, is she licking you?” Claudia comes back out with a bottle of pills. “Ah, yes. She’s done that ever since she was a kitty. She must like you, Nightmare.”
Nightmare curls her other hand around Edna’s head and gently scratches her behind the ears. Edna remains undistracted and continues her slurping onslaught against the Nightmare’s hand.
Claudia takes a seat beside Nightmare and offers her some Ibuprofen. Nightmare happily obliges. Several minutes later, she leaves Claudia’s Corner, a noticeable smile crinkling her mask.
This is her path.
She knows what to do now.