Drew liked to think of himself as somewhat elevated, a bit more mature than other guys in their early thirties. His apartment had furniture, which was assembled from varying thrift stores and cast offs, but it was there. His plates and bowls, a neat half dozen of each, matched in the same emerald green hue. He even had a bed frame and sheets. He had plants. A large philodendron that lived off cold coffee poured into it every night and then a Christmas cactus that he always hoped would bloom. His bathroom had extra towels and extra shampoo and conditioner. These sat idle but compared to his single friends he lived like the world's most interesting man. The only items that would have seemed typical were the varying collectibles used as decorations. Funko Pops still in box and premium hard cover editions of graphic novels and a pair of Pokemon plushies (Espeon and Umbreon) bookending them on a built in shelf.
There was another teacher who made a point of sharing every book she read in the year (Going for 100!) she did in her Instagram stories and he made a point to note them and read more women authors. He did this because it felt fair and expanded his horizons over his usual fare of spy thrillers but also a lingering reflection of being raised by a single mother with two older sisters. He had come to peace with his middling success with women and instead wanted to be a model for his middle school boys a few Joe Rogan podcasts away from becoming jabronis.
But, all that sensibility went dark in this moment when looking at Isabela. As she stood on the roof of the school and crackled with power he was transported to a base adolescent mode of infatuation. As a teen he loved wrestling and still sometimes used the terms in everyday speech. He was a total "mark" for her (this was her, right) and believed in everything and anything she had to offer. It had to be a dream. This checked a lot of boxes. Isabela had palmed her hand over her feet and brought pulled it up in front of her. It trailed spiraling flickers of light that changed what she wore into a a legitimate super hero outfit. Black tights coming up from matching boots with her knees, ankles, and thighs set with glowing armor pieces plated against her body securely in a hover. Then a black top like a surfer's rash guard set under a glowing white and blue cuirass over her chest. Then a hood which she had over her hair that she was quickly and messily braiding into a pony.
Fuck, its...you're. It's really you?" he mumbled.
She tucked the braid behind her neck "Sorry, I have not figure out how it can do hair." She then gave an awkward smile having now just realized the gravity of the decision. Would he freak out? He has to be freaking out, right? Would he tell anyone. This was looking more and more like a horrible idea. Isabela hadn't told anyone and she choose to tell a co worker. Not a family member or someone in power but someone she knew only during business hours. "And, yeah, its me."
"Wow. This explains a lot." Drew didn't hear anything. The roof could explode or collapse under him and he would still be just enthralled. "You like glow and hum with potential. I mean...you're a fucking superhero!" He finally took steps to her and she did instinctively take some steps back and make a small shield of light against her left wrist.
They both saw that and grimaced. "Sorry," she said. "I look better at the part then playing it."
He shook his head and waved his hands "No worries, no worries." In the moment she could have slahed the tires on his car and he would not care. "I shouldn't have just run. You look...amazing." Drew realized he dolloped extra emphasis on the last part and quickly pivoted to anything else 'What, what can you do. Like manipulate light, right? Make flares? Blind people?"
Isabela had never been in this position. Needing to explain her abilities. Made her realize she didn't even know what she could do. How long it would last and any lasting harm. Or, the important why it happened. She felt a sinking twinge of fear that she buried and then sheepishly answered "I can make it into shapes and change the colors of things I'm wearing or touch. Yeah, I can move it, for lack of a better word. Turn on the light on your phone. Let me show you."
Drew fumbled for it and then got it on after three tries with the school's required passcode. He should have never said he was fine checking work emails on his phone. He shone it at the gravel top of the school roof and caught the base of duct. Isabela flicked her wrist and then he saw the beam curve up and over the duct and back onto his chest. He gasped and she smirked while then making the light change from white to whole spectrum of the rainbow. He beamed "Its like hardlight in Halo. You can make bridges and shield and swords. Please tell me you can make a sword. Didn't you fence in college!?"
Isabela did feel herself turning a confused red in the face. She felt she was learning more about Drew in this moment then in their three years of working together. She had fenced, just as part of a club team in college, and he would only know that if he dug through her old Facebook pictures. She closed her eyes and centered herself and then let pinprick of light come from her wrist. She let the top of the beam extend about two feet and then widen into a simple machete shape. Making the hilt take shape in her arm she turned it around and offered it to him "What's your favorite color?"
"Purple," he said.
Then she turned it an electric violet and offered him to take it.
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