hesitated. Was he joking or did he really want to know what she dreamed about?
“Totally. You’re Super Emma. What can you do?”
“I’d have the power to clone myself. That way I could be in many places at the same time.” She paused. Did he get that it was an apology? Did he get that she had wanted to go to his game? “I’d be able to fly—”
“Or you’d have a magic zip-line that crossed the city,” he finished.
“And I’d zoom above the buildings from place to place.”
“I like it!” He leaned toward her. He smelled of dried sweat and caramel. A scent Emma found strangely appealing. “What’s she wearing?”
Emma paused. “I don’t know.” She could design for fashion magazines and runway models, but she had no idea what she’d wear if she really were a super hero. A unitard? A cape?
Jackson flipped her sketchbook to a clean page. “Is it okay?” he asked, reaching across her for her drawing pencil. She flinched when his fingers touched hers.
“Sure,” she mumbled. He was so very close to her. Shoulder to shoulder. Normally, she didn’t let anyone write in her sketchbooks. But he could’ve asked for the antique coin necklace that had been in her family for generations that Grandma Grace had passed down to her and instructed her to keep safe, and she would have gladly given it to him.
He took her pencil and leaned over the page, his shoulder bumping hers. Confidently, he began to draw.
Emma bit her lip and watched as a face emerged. Wide eyes set far apart under rounded brows. Thin nose and lips. Pointy chin. A super-high ponytail. The long hair slightly wavy.
Emma felt her face turn five shades of red. He was drawing her . Maybe not as she looked in a mirror, but her as a comic book character. The resemblance was amazing. She could draw halter-dresses but she was horrible at faces. Jackson was truly talented. She watched as he gave her a defiant gleam and angled her neck and shoulders to make her soar through the sky.
He placed the pencil on the drawing. “Your turn.”
“Me? You need to finish it,” she protested. She’d already planned to strip the bulletin board in her bedroom so that Jackson’s drawing of her would be pinned front and center.
“You’re the fashion person.” His tone was playful. “Come on, add the outfit.”
Emma gripped the pencil and thought for a moment. Then she began to draw. A tight long sleeved top with exaggerated padded shoulders and a narrow waist. A flirty mini skirt with an asymmetrical hemline that gave off sparks. Thigh-high boots and a cape.
“Fierce,” Jackson said approvingly.
She quickly added a narrow, black mask around her super hero eyes.
“What’s that mean?” Jackson asked, as Emma’s phone buzzed.
She ignored it. “She’s hiding things.”
“So our super hero is a girl with a secret?”
Her phone buzzed again.
“Emma, this is a quiet place,” Ms. Williams called from across the room. “Remember the rules of respect.”
“Really?” Emma whispered to Jackson. “We’re the only three here.” She sincerely doubted that particular Media Center rule still applied. It was kind of like the “if a tree falls in a forest” question. You couldn’t possibly bother people that weren’t around, could you?
Her phone continued to buzz.
She reached for it and glanced at the screen. Charlie texting. Looking for her. He wanted to take the subway to Laceland together.
Her fingers flew over the keyboard. Meet u in 10. She could feel the easy, jokey feeling between her and Jackson disintegrating. He pushed his chair back a few inches.
“It’s Charlie,” she explained. She couldn’t get over how Charlie managed to always get between them.
“You hang around him a lot.” Jackson’s voice had changed to the disinterested flatness she often heard when he talked in class or to teachers.
“We’ve been friends for years.”
“He’s kind of weird, no?”
“Not at all.” Emma was quick to come to Charlie’s
“Totally. You’re Super Emma. What can you do?”
“I’d have the power to clone myself. That way I could be in many places at the same time.” She paused. Did he get that it was an apology? Did he get that she had wanted to go to his game? “I’d be able to fly—”
“Or you’d have a magic zip-line that crossed the city,” he finished.
“And I’d zoom above the buildings from place to place.”
“I like it!” He leaned toward her. He smelled of dried sweat and caramel. A scent Emma found strangely appealing. “What’s she wearing?”
Emma paused. “I don’t know.” She could design for fashion magazines and runway models, but she had no idea what she’d wear if she really were a super hero. A unitard? A cape?
Jackson flipped her sketchbook to a clean page. “Is it okay?” he asked, reaching across her for her drawing pencil. She flinched when his fingers touched hers.
“Sure,” she mumbled. He was so very close to her. Shoulder to shoulder. Normally, she didn’t let anyone write in her sketchbooks. But he could’ve asked for the antique coin necklace that had been in her family for generations that Grandma Grace had passed down to her and instructed her to keep safe, and she would have gladly given it to him.
He took her pencil and leaned over the page, his shoulder bumping hers. Confidently, he began to draw.
Emma bit her lip and watched as a face emerged. Wide eyes set far apart under rounded brows. Thin nose and lips. Pointy chin. A super-high ponytail. The long hair slightly wavy.
Emma felt her face turn five shades of red. He was drawing her . Maybe not as she looked in a mirror, but her as a comic book character. The resemblance was amazing. She could draw halter-dresses but she was horrible at faces. Jackson was truly talented. She watched as he gave her a defiant gleam and angled her neck and shoulders to make her soar through the sky.
He placed the pencil on the drawing. “Your turn.”
“Me? You need to finish it,” she protested. She’d already planned to strip the bulletin board in her bedroom so that Jackson’s drawing of her would be pinned front and center.
“You’re the fashion person.” His tone was playful. “Come on, add the outfit.”
Emma gripped the pencil and thought for a moment. Then she began to draw. A tight long sleeved top with exaggerated padded shoulders and a narrow waist. A flirty mini skirt with an asymmetrical hemline that gave off sparks. Thigh-high boots and a cape.
“Fierce,” Jackson said approvingly.
She quickly added a narrow, black mask around her super hero eyes.
“What’s that mean?” Jackson asked, as Emma’s phone buzzed.
She ignored it. “She’s hiding things.”
“So our super hero is a girl with a secret?”
Her phone buzzed again.
“Emma, this is a quiet place,” Ms. Williams called from across the room. “Remember the rules of respect.”
“Really?” Emma whispered to Jackson. “We’re the only three here.” She sincerely doubted that particular Media Center rule still applied. It was kind of like the “if a tree falls in a forest” question. You couldn’t possibly bother people that weren’t around, could you?
Her phone continued to buzz.
She reached for it and glanced at the screen. Charlie texting. Looking for her. He wanted to take the subway to Laceland together.
Her fingers flew over the keyboard. Meet u in 10. She could feel the easy, jokey feeling between her and Jackson disintegrating. He pushed his chair back a few inches.
“It’s Charlie,” she explained. She couldn’t get over how Charlie managed to always get between them.
“You hang around him a lot.” Jackson’s voice had changed to the disinterested flatness she often heard when he talked in class or to teachers.
“We’ve been friends for years.”
“He’s kind of weird, no?”
“Not at all.” Emma was quick to come to Charlie’s
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