Chapter 33: Let the Games Begin
Kara was still glum when she arrived at school, but as she walked down the hallway to homeroom she was pleasantly surprised by the number of kids who greeted her. They still seemed more than a little in awe of her, and kept their distance, but to Kara it felt like the first crocus after a frozen winter.
In the days following her exposure as Supergirl, the overwhelming impression she’d received from the other students was that they saw her as an alien. Not just in the literal sense, but as someone strange and incomprehensible, a celebrity interloper. They seemed surprised she was still there.
The smiles and greetings made her feel welcome for the first time in a while. They might not know what to do with her but at least they seemed OK with her being there. That improved Kara’s mood immeasurably. She wanted to go home, but as long as she was here it was nice to feel like she belonged, at least a little. She looked to Christie, and Christie grinned at her.
Kara hadn’t realized how upsetting all this had been until she had lunch with her friends. They talked about Bailey’s art class, Megan’s piano certificate, even Kevin’s comics — though he did talk about how all Supergirl stories were on hold while the writers and artists tried to figure out what to do. With Kara so much in the news, Supergirl’s current fictional incarnation suddenly seemed wrong.
All this made her understand how supportive her friends had been, because they’d been spending all their time talking about her and her problems. Kara was grateful and tried to return the favor. She left the cafeteria feeling that life was approaching something normal again. Whatever normal was for her.
That all changed in math class.
It wasn’t anything anyone in the room did. Shortly after noon, her attention was caught by someone’s radio, though “mugged” might be a better description.
“Hey, Bradley Rosner here, with another dose of ‘Common Sense.’ Let’s start with someone who desperately needs it: Emily Jordan, the woman — unfortunately — in charge of Supergirl.”
Kara gasped a little and unconsciously squeezed her pencil.
“Supergirl is a good kid, but like all kids, how she turns out is gonna depend on what kind of parents she has. In this case she has a single mother who has some seriously screwed-up priorities.
“Is Supergirl helping our troops in Afghanistan? Twenty-two of them died recently. Is she helping us find new sources of energy so hardworking Americans can pay less for gas? Is she even helping the good folk in Enid, Oklahoma, whose town was trashed by a tornado yesterday?
“No, she’s flying off to help the commies.
Excuse me, the Russians. And for photo-ops with cute kids in California.”
Kara gritted her teeth.
“This is a woman who’s already raising a child who was born when she was sixteen, and is living in a taxpayer-funded mansion. That oughta tell you everything you need to know. She says she discusses every rescue with Supergirl and lets her decide. The kid’s only eleven!
“What she needs are parents who’ll provide her with good, firm guidance, not some hippie who lets her do whatever she wants. Should the most powerful girl on Earth be brought up by someone with these kinds of values? Hell no! In fact—”
Mercifully, Kara’s attention was diverted back to math class by multiple shrieks. She looked around and everyone was staring at her, including Ms. Noether.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I heard something really nasty on the radio…” Everyone was still staring. “What?”
“Your hand…” whispered Ms. Noether.
Kara noticed her right hand. The splintered remains of her pencil protruded from either side of her tightly closed fist, and black smoke was curling out from between her fingers. “Oh.”
• • •
“So,” said Caitlin in the car on the way home, “I heard you made diamonds in math class today. You were supposed to wait till Mr. Kroum starts covering Earth Science for that.”
Kara smiled faintly. As she’d cleaned up the mess in her palm she’d discovered tiny sparkling grains among the ashes. Apparently she’d converted part of her pencil to diamond. The novelty of this had distracted and excited everyone in math class, and Ms. Noether had nearly forgotten to finish teaching her lesson plan.
“I didn’t mean to. There was just this…” — her father and mother warred within her, and this time, her mother won — “
idiot on the radio saying horrible things about Emily. He was
lying, Caitlin! He was making people think she had you as a baby when she was sixteen!”
“Wait, who?”
“His name was Bradley Rosner. He has a radio show called ‘Common Sense.’” Kara rolled her eyes. “As if he has any.”
“I think I’ve heard of him. So wait, he was trash-talking Em?”
“Yes! It was awful!”
Caitlin frowned. “I guess we better tell her when she gets home.”
• • •
“He thinks we should
what?”
Fred Douglas held his hands up in placation. The three of them were meeting with him in the downstairs bedroom that had been converted into his office. He now worked in Milford during the week, then spent the weekends with his family in Maryland.
“Dr. Jordan, the Administration feels that your family needs to give an in-depth interview to counteract some of what’s going on.”
Emily held her hands up to gesture, then dropped them into her lap in frustration. “Bradley Rosner is an idiot! Can’t we just ignore him?”
“He’s a very popular and influential idiot, unfortunately.”
“What is going on here, Mr. Douglas? Why is this an issue all of a sudden?”
Douglas gave a tired sigh. “What is going on here, Dr. Jordan, is called ‘politics.’ There’s a game being played, and rightly or wrongly, you’re caught in the middle.”
“A game?” asked Kara, puzzled.
Douglas smiled. “Not that kind of game, Kara.” His smile faded. “More like chess. A war game.”
“What do they want?” asked Caitlin.
“Many people view Kara as an all-powerful genie who grants wishes. They want some wishes, or better yet, they want the lamp.”
Kara frowned. “But I wouldn’t do what people like that wanted anyway! I’d just fly away, and I’d take Emily and Caitlin with me if I had to!” She looked around earnestly. “I don’t want to leave here except to go home, but I will if I have to.”
“I know that, and you know that, and the President knows that, but some people are too blinded by their desire for power to know that. And that’s not the only reason.”
“There’s more?” asked Caitlin.
Douglas nodded. “It’s a Presidential election year, and the President has stated his support for you, Dr. Jordan, several times. They’ve decided they can use that support against him for the campaign. It’s a good issue for them, because the kind of people to whom this argument appeals cross party lines. There are people of all political stripes who see Kara as an easy solution to their pet problems, if only
they get to tell her what to do. And they see you as the primary obstacle to that.”
He spread his hands. “No one wants to attack Supergirl directly because you can’t attack a girl of eleven who saves people’s lives on a regular basis. It’d be political suicide. So they’re going after you instead.”
He leaned back in his desk chair. “They probably realize they don’t have much chance of getting their way on Kara. But by whipping up a frenzy on this issue, they figure they have a sure bet to siphon off some support from the President’s base.
“Now, we want to push back on both fronts. We want to reemphasize the reasoning behind the approach you’re taking to fostering Kara, and that you’re doing what her parents would want.”
I sure hope so, thought Emily.
“Not only will that undermine the people portraying Kara as a resource, but it will back up the President’s judgment in the matter.”
“It’s all politics, isn’t it?” sighed Emily.
“Dr. Jordan,
everything is all politics. As Churchill said, ‘democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others.’”
“Huh,” said Kara. She’d never heard that before. It was kind of depressing.
Emily was silent for a while. “And what happens to his support if this issue really starts to hurt the President?”
Douglas regarded her seriously. “That’s a no-win scenario for all of us, the President included.”
“And this interview will solve the problem?”
“Political problems don’t get solved; if you’re lucky they fade away. The Administration’s political strategists believe this will help, though. We have to show people who you are, instead of letting people like Bradley Rosner tell them who you are.”
Emily sighed again. She’d ignored their advice the last time, and it had gotten her kidnapped and Kara exposed. She looked to the girls; Caitlin shrugged, and Kara nodded uncertainly. “All right. We’ll do it.”
• • •
They were told the next day that an interview had been scheduled with Kathy Morris, one of the most famous interviewers on TV. It would be a special broadcast, without commercial interruption, and last an hour. They’d have to be interviewed for two to three hours to produce enough material for that.
That much time was an impossibility for a school night, so the plan was to have the interview on Sunday and spend most of Saturday preparing with the White House media team. Ms. Morris was expected to be a friendly interviewer, but the Administration was leaving nothing to chance.
None of them were happy about their entire weekend being consumed, but it was a necessary evil. The necessity was amply demonstrated on Thursday.
As Kara and Caitlin were leaving school and about to get in their car, they were approached by a delegation of three people in business suits; one was Congressman Munroe. They were trailed by a flock of reporters.
“Miss Kent, my name is Norman Graves and I’m from the Delaware Department of Children’s Services. I have here an order for your removal from the custody of Dr. Emily Jordan. We will be placing you with another family. Would you please come with us?”
Kara had no intention of following any such order, and looked up at Caitlin, who understood immediately:
Just like at Camp David. They put their arms around each other, an innocuous-seeming gesture.
Before they could put that plan into action, Robin Gilbert and Christie Howell stepped forward. Robin said, “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step aside.” Cameras were flashing.
“Excuse me?” said Graves, annoyed. “Young lady, I’m a state employee on official business. This isn’t a time for jokes.”
“I agree completely, Sir. I’m Robin Gilbert, United States Secret Service, and these girls are under our protection. Once again, I request that you step aside.” She pulled out her ID and showed it.
Graves squinted at the badge and scoffed. “That’s a very convincing fake, Miss, but no thirteen-year-old is a Secret Service agent. I don’t know if your friends here put you up to this, but go away and let me do my job or I’ll have to call the police.” He moved towards Kara and Caitlin, who tensed.
Robin and Christie both pulled their service pistols in one smooth motion and trained them on Graves, who stopped abruptly. “Please step back, Sir, or we’ll have to do ours. Not one step closer,” warned Christie. People on all sides shrank from the confrontation. Fortunately, they were well away from the flow of children leaving the school.
Graves gaped for a moment, then backed off; the agents lowered their weapons but kept them ready. Congressman Munroe came forward, indignant. “What’s the meaning of this? This is an outrage!”
Robin replied, “That’s not for us to decide, Congressman. Our instructions are that these girls go wherever they want, or wherever Dr. Jordan wants, with no exceptions. Right now, I believe they want to go home.” Caitlin and Kara nodded. “If you want to take it up with someone, you can go there and discuss it with DHS.” The cameras continued to flash; the entire confrontation was being recorded.
“That’s exactly what I plan to do,” huffed Munroe. “This is no way to treat a Member of Congress!”
• • •
