Chapter 31: Reasons to Be Cheerful

“Our next story tonight is the developing reaction to the recent White House press conference on Supergirl. For details, let’s go to our Supergirl correspondent, Mike Hooper, on location in Milford, Delaware. Mike?”

“Thanks, Bill. While a majority of Americans favor the current arrangements for Supergirl, some in Congress are calling for a change. A growing group led by Congressman Gerald Munroe of Pennsylvania is pushing the Administration to find a new family for the Girl of Steel. Here’s what he had to say earlier today.”

“We believe she would be better off in a family with both a mother and a father. We also believe that Dr. Jordan’s views are holding Supergirl back and keeping her from helping more effectively. While the President may agree with Dr. Jordan’s approach there are many Americans who don’t. We’re grateful to Dr. Jordan for what she’s done so far, but this was supposed to be a temporary placement and we should be finding a good family for Supergirl to be adopted into.”

“Congressman, is that appropriate, given that she’s expected to be reunited with her parents at some point?”

“Well, there are respected scientists who find the explanations given by the Administration hard to swallow. Really, parallel worlds populated by fictional characters come to life? She’s a great kid and a real hero, but we all know how active children’s imaginations are, and all we have to go on is what she says. I’d say there are simpler explanations than Clark Kent and Lois Lane being real people. Her real parents must be out there somewhere, and I urge them to come forward and identify themselves.”

“A CNN flash poll taken today shows that 63% of Americans favor keeping Supergirl where she is, 16% believe she should be moved to a different family, and 14% believe she should be made a ward of the U.S. government. The remainder were unsure.

“So, there isn’t much support for Congressman Munroe at present, but that’s not stopping him. He’s planning to introduce a bill, the Superhuman Minor Protection Act, or SMPA for short. It would make the Federal government Supergirl’s legal guardian and require that decisions about her be approved by Congress.

“That proposal led to an outcry today in the United Nations General Assembly. Several nations argued that making Supergirl an arm of the U.S. government was unacceptable, that we already have an unfair advantage from her living here. Russia introduced a resolution calling for Supergirl to be put under the supervision of the international body, and relocated to what they called a more neutral location such as Geneva or Brussels.

“The White House responded to critics by pointing out that Supergirl has performed rescues all over the world, including countries unfriendly to the U.S. They also expressed full confidence in Dr. Emily Jordan as Supergirl’s foster mother.

“Finally, on a lighter note, there are those who seem to be taking Congressman Munroe’s advice to heart: dozens of couples have come forward claiming to be Supergirl’s real parents. Some of them even claim to be Lois Lane and Clark Kent. So far, though, none of the would-be Supermen has been able to give the obvious proof that he’s the real deal. For CNN, this is Mike Hooper.”

• • •


Kara was still getting the movie star treatment at school, and wished she wasn’t. The other students kept their distance; they watched her with a mixture of awe, respect, and burning curiosity. When she walked from class to class carrying her books, they appeared puzzled, as if they couldn’t fathom why she didn’t fly instead. When she was behind schedule and ran at merely human speed, they looked outright mystified.

Between her status as a curiosity and her own personal Secret Service detail, no one seemed inclined to have a conversation with her. No matter where she went in school, unless one of her three friends was with her, she and Christie walked alone.

She looked forward to lunch every day, simply because it was a chance to sit with Bailey, Megan, and Kevin and have something approximating a normal conversation. Usually.

“I always thought being famous would be amazing,” observed Bailey. “But people stare at you all the time. Sometimes I just want to shout, ‘OK, so she’s Supergirl! Get over it already!’”

“Yeah,” sighed Kara.

“And all those losers saying they’re your parents,” added Megan. “What’s that about?”

“That’s just sick,” agreed Bailey. “And I don’t mean in the good way.”

Kevin added, “I mean, just ’cause you’re a real superhero who can fly and bullets bounce off you and you’re from another planet in a parallel universe and your dad is Superman…” He trailed off.

There was a long, awkward pause. Kara poked at her spaghetti with her spork. Kevin looked almost as uncomfortable as she did.

“S…So,” Kara finally stuttered, “what are you guys doing for Christmas break?”

Her friends came to the rescue. “Our grandma and grandpa are coming from Florida,” said Megan.

“It’s just Mom and Dad and me,” said Bailey. “We don’t go anywhere, so I spend time visiting friends. I guess it’s not that different from—”

She was cut off by a shriek from across the cafeteria; Kara looked up to see someone in the process of falling. Everything froze as she snapped into super-speed. She lifted up from her seat and flew over, bypassing the crowded aisles.

The person in trouble was Rosa Montes. It looked like she’d slipped on a patch of someone else’s spilt food; she was falling backwards, her arms thrown out. If Kara didn’t act Rosa would hit her head on a bench in another second or two.

Rosa’s tray was following its own trajectory, food already starting to slide off of the plate, the plate lifting from the tray, the cutlery heading in random directions. It was all still relatively close together, though. Kara wondered if she shouldn’t try to catch it in something like a trash bag before saving Rosa. Everything was barely moving from her perspective and she thought she might have time to do both.

The tray looked like it wasn’t going to hit anyone, though, and Kara decided she didn’t want to risk Rosa getting hurt if she got distracted dealing with it.

She positioned herself behind the other girl and dropped back into normal time, catching her gently under the arms. Rosa cut off her shriek, which was followed by the noisy clatter of the tray, plate, and utensils. Being cafeteria ware, nothing broke, but it was loud. The din in the room stopped abruptly and everyone turned to stare.

It was only then that Kara realized she could have just plucked the items from the tray out of the air, one by one, and used the plate to recapture the food.

She carefully lifted Rosa back to her feet. “Are you OK?”

“Th…thanks,” replied the girl. “I… I think so. Thank you.”

“It’s OK,” said Kara, smiling. “I’m glad you didn’t get hurt.”

Mr. Ordemann was on cafeteria duty and hurried over. “What happened? Is everyone OK?”

“I’m OK, Mr. Ordemann,” said Rosa, starting to regain her wits. “I slipped on a wet spot, but Kara caught me.”

“I’m sorry about the mess, Mr. Ordemann,” Kara apologized, gesturing at the debris of Rosa’s lunch, “but I couldn’t figure out how to catch it and Rosa, too, until after it was all over.”

“That’s quite all right, Kara,” replied the teacher. “It can be cleaned up.” He smiled. “Thank you.”

“Yes,” echoed Rosa. “Thank you.”

• • •


The next morning, Rosa said “Hi” to her as they passed in the hall, and Kara said “Hi” back. Kara had a smile on her face for what felt like the first time in days.

A couple of other people said “Hi” too.

Ms. Maloney was diagramming sentence structure on the whiteboard when Kara’s attention was caught by someone’s radio: “Oklahoma disaster services are reporting that the town of Enid has been struck by a tornado. Reports are sketchy…”

Kara’s hand shot up. “Ms. Maloney?”

The teacher stopped writing and turned around. “Yes, Kara?”

“Umm, there’s been a tornado in Oklahoma. I need to check with my foster mom.”

Ms. Maloney raised an eyebrow. “Very well, go ahead.” She folded her arms. Kara blushed lightly as the entire class watched her.

She pulled out her new smartphone, which she had special dispensation to use during class if there was a life-threatening emergency somewhere. She rapidly texted Emily then lay the phone down.

She looked up at Ms. Maloney. “It usually takes a few minutes for her to talk to the government people and then text me back.”

Ms. Maloney nodded, bemused, and turned back to the whiteboard. The other students reluctantly turned their attention back to the lesson.

Minutes later, the reply came silently. Kara read it, then put her phone away.

She looked up to find everyone watching her again. “Well?” asked Ms. Maloney, as curious as anyone else.

“Um, I don’t have to go. The people in Oklahoma say they can handle it.” She blushed again. “I’m sorry for interrupting class.”

“We understand, Kara,” said Ms. Maloney, and continued on with the lesson. The other students watched Kara a moment longer, then turned their attention back to schoolwork as well.

By the end of the day, more kids were saying “Hi.”

• • •


Kara spent the first five minutes of the drive home from school watching her foster sister stare out the window and brood.

“Caitlin, are you OK?”

Caitlin glanced at Kara, then stared at the floor and frowned. “This sucks.”

“What does?”

Caitlin waved at the interior of their armored SUV. “This. Being famous. All of it.”

Kara looked down. “I’m sorry.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s not like you planned it this way.”

Kara sighed. “No…”

“It’s like Becca Hunter said. We’re ‘interesting.’” Caitlin made air quotes. “It gets old.” She blew out her breath.

Kara thought something must have happened at school, but didn’t want to pry. She thought back on her own day. “Maybe it’ll get better, like she said.”

“Maybe,” said Caitlin, as the car turned into the drive for their new home. They both watched the press, segregated behind barricades, photograph them as they sped by. Their limo pulled up at the old delivery entrance next to the kitchen.

The moment the car door opened, Kara sniffed the air. “Why does it smell like flowers?” The two of them climbed out.

Caitlin frowned. “I don’t smell… Oh, right.” Trailed by Robin and Christie, they went through the back door, past the kitchen, and into the entry area.

There were at least half a dozen beautiful floral arrangements scattered around the room. Some were simple, some elaborate.

“Where did all these come from?” wondered Caitlin.

Mr. Douglas had come to meet them, smiling. “They’re for Miss Kent.” He gestured. “These are from Mr. Reid, whom you rescued from drowning. These,” he gestured again, “are from some of the passengers on that jet you saved in London.” He identified the others. “The Huozhou Coal Mining Group. Kopp Middle School. The space agencies of the International Space Station. The Kansas City Fire Department. And,” he cleared his throat, “The Islamic Republic of Iran.”

“Why did all these people send me flowers?” murmured Kara, astonished.

“Mr. Reid started it. He came to your cottage on Thanksgiving Day, while you were all at Camp David. He said the biggest thanks he had to give this year were to you, for saving his life, and he wondered if flowers would be all right. We said we thought you’d like them, but that you were away for several days. Given the size of the cottage, we also suggested he wait until you moved into a bigger place.

“Then the other people you’ve helped started calling, asking what they could do to express their gratitude, and we mentioned Mr. Reid’s idea.” He motioned with his hand. “This is the result.”

Kara’s cheeks were tinged pink. “There’re so many…”

“There are more upstairs in your room, too.” He smiled. “And we have several large sacks of fan mail, from all around the world. For some reason you’re especially popular in Japan.”

Kara wandered over to the Kopp Middle School flowers, speechless. There was a large sheet of paper, too, with a big S shield and lots of hearts, all drawn by hand. The paper was packed tight with notes from students.

Caitlin came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. Kara looked up, and Caitlin smiled. They both turned back to reading the notes.

• • •


Things had been quiet for a few days, save for the tornado in Oklahoma, so Kara wasn’t too surprised when dinner was interrupted by a call from Mr. Douglas.

“Dr. Jordan, there’s a little boy missing in Yosemite National Park. He’s four and got away from his parents. It’s snowing, and it’ll be getting dark soon.”

Emily looked up at Kara. “Did you hear all that?”

Kara nodded. “I think I should go.”

“What’s going on?” asked Caitlin.

“I think so too. Go ahead, I’ll tell Caitlin.”

Kara blurred out of the dining room and was back a moment later as Supergirl. She went to Emily and Caitlin and hugged them both.

“We can reheat your dinner when you get back,” said Emily.

Kara nodded and zipped upstairs. Her room had a newly installed roof exit; it allowed her to come and go with a little more privacy than the front or back doors. She liked the idea of having her own personal door that no one else could use. It was fun, like a cat door for people who could fly.

• • •


Five minutes later Kara was hovering over Yosemite Valley. Back home, they’d all visited a couple of years ago, with Aunt Lucy and Uncle Ron as guides. It had been a short trip — Laura was five at the time — but she thought she recognized many of the landmarks.

There was snow on the ground, though it wasn’t snowing at the moment. She scanned the valley floor, and noticed the cluster of emergency personnel and a local TV news crew near one of the campgrounds.

As she descended she heard excited shouts, and suddenly dozens of upturned faces were tracking her like a field of sunflowers. Eyes and cameras followed her silently as she floated down to a landing.

“Supergirl!” cried a woman who had to be the mother. “Thank God!”

A park ranger came to meet Kara, followed by the parents. “Do you think you can find the boy?”

“Where should I look? Should I just search the whole valley?”

The ranger considered that. “That might take a while, even for you. Is there anything that would help you home in on him?”

“What’s his name? And do you have any pictures? Or something with sound?”

The boy’s father pulled out a smartphone and brought up some video footage. “His name is Ian. This is a couple of months old.”

Kara watched the video of a small boy wearing a cape, a colander on his head of unruly hair, and waving a plastic sword. He lifted the sword high and shouted, “I am the king of the Universe!”

Kara suppressed a smile. She listened closely, and picked up something else on the soundtrack besides his declaration of sovereignty.

“I can hear his heartbeat in the video. I can listen for that.” She looked to the ranger. “Do you have any idea where he is?”

The ranger shook his head. “He’s been missing about two hours, so he couldn’t have gone more than a couple miles at most, but that covers a lot of area. We’ve searched quite a bit of it, but he hasn’t responded to our calls. He might be asleep.”

The mother’s face fell, and even Kara picked up on the unspoken alternative.

Kara nodded, then took off. She started crisscrossing the valley, listening intently.

• • •


After about five minutes she was over a less populated area when she heard Ian’s heartbeat. She also heard something else.

“Oh,” she said. The little boy was trapped in the middle of a cluster of tall, brambly bushes. A black bear sat on its haunches, making a determined effort to get at him with one paw, grumbling the whole time. Its arm was small enough to fit in the space the boy had crawled through, but not long enough to reach where he sat. The boy cowered, shivered, and whimpered, both from fear and from the cold. He was bleeding from scratches he’d evidently incurred while climbing into his refuge.

Kara observed the scene from a hundred feet up, uneasy. She knew that if bullets bounced off her she shouldn’t worry about a bear, but that was the thinking part of her. Other, instinctual parts of her told her to stay aloft. It took her a few moments to overcome her anxiety and land about thirty yards away.

“H—Hey!” she shouted, waving her arms. She felt very nervous, almost jumpy.

Ian and the bear both turned their attention towards her.

The bear made a curious noise. It looked back and forth a few times, trying to decide if the new human was too large. Normally it avoided humans, but it was hungry and the smaller one had seemed easy prey, albeit frustratingly difficult to catch. The bigger one made it nervous, but weariness and hunger tipped the balance. It started charging, its paws throwing up clumps of snow as it accelerated.

Kara fought her rising desire to flee from the oncoming predator. She forced herself to wait until it was ten feet away before she vanished. It scrabbled to a stop, confused.

Kara reappeared at the bushes and tore an opening in one side of the cluster, startling Ian; the bear looked around at the noise. She whispered to him, “Come on, let’s go,” and held her arms open.

“Are you Supergirl?” he whispered back, awestruck.

“Yes, Ian, but we need to go before the bear comes back.” Just because she could stop the bear with one hand didn’t mean she wanted to.

The boy leapt into her arms and buried his face in her middle, quivering. Kara put her arms around him gently and lifted them both into the air, just as the bear was heading back their way.

The animal growled and looked up accusingly as Kara made off with its prize; she hovered fifty feet up. Ian had recovered enough to look down from the safety of Kara’s arms and shouted, “You are a mean, stinky, ugly bear, and I hate you! Stuffy hates you too!” He cut loose with a defiant, noisy raspberry.

“Who’s Stuffy?” asked Kara.

“He is my bear, and he is a nice bear. He sleeps with me ’cause there are dinosaurs in my closet.”

As Kara sailed off with her small passenger, the bear made a mournful noise. It watched them go until they were out of sight.

• • •