Alright, Rylee thought. It’s just a jump. A really, really big jump. If she wasn’t lucky, she’d hit the couch cushions on the grass below, maybe break an arm, but if she was lucky, then it would be the sunlit sky. It was a longer summer day, the kind with orange skies and wispy clouds, warm breezes and long days. Mom wasn’t home, and like always, dad wasn’t either. She’d gotten the itch to try again. To spread her arms and hope that the wind would carry her into the softly burning sky above. She double checked her knee pads and mouth guard, and tried not to focus on her racing heartbeat and her bitter mouth. She’d thrown up just now and swallowed it, because superheroes aren’t meant to be afraid. Dad was never afraid, and he flew so high that she was sure he could see the stars whenever he wanted.

  All she could ever see were the trees above her and that same old boring school ceiling. She wanted more. She wanted to fly just like he could. And she swore that she’d done it by accident yesterday during soccer practice. She’d run a little faster. Jumped a little higher, and stayed in the air that fraction longer and got the header. They’d clapped her on the back and said it was amazing, which it was, because eight year olds just don’t jump that high.

  Most adults don’t jump that high either, and for once, mom had been watching practice.

  And on the way back home, she’d said, Not in front of people. She’d asked where she could then, a little mad that she wasn’t impressed, and all she had done was shake her head and said nothing at all for the rest of the night. They’d gone to bed in silence. Fifth night it’s happened in the past three weeks. No dinner. Just pizza from the freezer. She had work in the morning and headed upstairs, telling her to switch off the tv when she was done.

  Rylee had asked her if she’d done something wrong. Her mom had sighed and stopped at the stairs, one hand on the bannister and the other on her hip. She’d turned and smiled thinly, not really meaning it. “No, you didn’t,” she had said. “But you need to make sure nobody ever sees you fly, Rylee. Not even your father, Ok?” She wanted to ask what that meant, but she’d left and shut her door, and that had been last night—the last time they’d spoken, because by the time Rylee was waking up, her mom was already at work, a sticky note on the fridge telling her to eat some fruits and that she’d be back a little early today. She never said how early, and that meant she had one shot at this, and one shot to make sure she hadn’t been imagining it. Maybe I’ll even make her smile this time.

  Her foot slipped off the roof tiles. She grabbed hold of her window ledge and gasped. Heart beating faster. Mouth even drier. She swallowed, then forced her shaky legs to get underneath her and help her stand up again.

  “Okay,” she said breathily, teeth almost chattering. “I can do this. It’s just a jump, Ry.”

  A gust of wind nearly dragged her right off the roof again. She grabbed even tighter onto the window as the rush of wind threw dry leaves into the wind and spooked the neighborhood cat that had sat on the fence and watched the thirteen year old try to paralyze herself. Rylee flinched, eyes shut until the wind stopped. Then she didn’t want to open them again. She wanted to crawl back through her window and wriggle into her bed and pretend this didn't happen. But he was here now, and that meant she was going to get a scolding like every other time he came around. No wonder she said she’s coming back early, she thought. They’re having another date night.

  Which meant stay in your room, play your video games and read your comics and we’ll bring you food when it’s ready. God, she might as well get a cab and go to Bianca’s house. But he’d hear the phone call, and the next thing she knew, she’d be grounded for sneaking out. Her stomach sank as he remained hovering in the air, a shadow over her that killed the warmth of sunlight behind him. She didn’t want to look up at him, but she couldn’t stop herself. He was an outline, a silhouette with strong shoulders and sharp eyes. He hovered with his arms behind his back, like a statement that screamed, I’m not even disappointed, I’m just pretty amused. Rylee sighed and stood.

  “I know, I know,” she muttered, hauling one leg back into her room. “Stay in my room until you say so.”

  He flew closer. She involuntarily froze, then hurried to get through her window. “I saw you yesterday.”

  Rylee swallowed, head, shoulders, and torso indoors, and the rest of her outside. “You saw my goal?”

  “Your…flight, if we can even call it that.” He was silent, then said, “Look at me when I’m talking.”

  So she turned, holding her window to stand without slipping and falling off the roof. He was right there on the tiles, his shoes grazing the gutter. Rylee looked up at him, mouth drying even further, heart palpating hard.

  “Well?” he said, folding his arms. “Jump. Show me how you flew.”

  “I…It was just a really big jump, I swear.”

  He remained silent, looking down at her, his face a mask of shadows and hard lines.

  She gripped the ledge even harder, digging her fingernails into it. “I can’t fly.”

  “Then I suppose you were jumping off the roof for the sake of it?”

  She nodded quickly. “It was a dare. It’s what all the other kids are doing.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And since when were you like them?”

  Rylee opened her mouth, then shut it. Her eyes stung.

  “Don’t,” he said. So she wiped her eyes and swallowed. He sighed through his nose. “Get inside.”

  It was horrible timing that her mom’s car pulled up the driveway and came to an abrupt stop just outside the house. She didn’t even switch off the engine before she ran across the garden in her slacks and sweaty shirt and stopped beside the apple tree, looking up at both of them. She was panting, looking at dad and then at her, hands in her hair and glasses askew on her nose. Her dad smiled down at her and said, Hi, honey, how was work? Rylee didn’t think she could talk without crying, because there was an emotion sitting in her throat, thick and choking, that was daring her to give it a chance to spill out of her mouth. So she bit down on her tongue, harder, even harder, until the pain outweighed the tears balancing in her eyes. Her mom looked at the couch cushions on the grass hastily thrown and put together, then up at her, eyebrows furrowing and frown lines drawing deeper creases around her mouth.

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  “Rylee,” she said slowly. “Get back inside, and be really careful, Ok? We’ll have a talk about this later.”

  Her dad sighed again, then said, “The girl needs to learn how to properly fly, and not just in bursts.”

  Usually, her mom would have said nothing,.Today, she glared and said, “Get my daughter off the roof and then you and I can also have a long talk about what it means to hide your identity and protect your child, too.”

  Neither Rylee nor her dad moved, not until her mom said, “Now!”

  Zeus looked at her, a pinch of semi-disgust on her face. Rylee didn’t reach out to him. She didn’t know what to do. Going back through the window would mean he’d feel like she doesn’t trust him. Grabbing his arm would just feel…wrong. You don’t tough dad, ever. Not even his stuff. If he wanted her to get something, she had to grab it with the kitchen mitts, from the remote to his golf clubs to his computer. That was just kind of how it worked in their house, and now she was meant to touch him? She looked at him, not moving a single muscle. She swallowed again and gingerly peeled her fingers off the ledge and shakily reached out to him. Her fingers caught the sunlight in between. Her father stared into her eyes, then at her hand. His mouth turned, bitter, then took it.

  He then dangled her off the roof, and let go of her wrist.

  She fell like a stone.

  For a moment, everything froze. The gasp still in her throat, to the leaves in the wind and the sunlight itself. Her arms windmilled. Her legs flailed. The ground devoured the distance between her and a broken neck in seconds. She tried, hoped, screamed and fell, grabbing onto that flailing, flickering thing she wanted so badly.

  She wanted to fly, but she’d been right—it was just a really lucky jump.

  Her mom broke her fall, arms spread and caught her before she hit the grass and the cushions. Rylee groaned, hurting all over, then startled and got off her. Ronnie grabbed her and pulled her face into her chest. She was breathing. She was fine. Her heartbeat was fast and so was her blinking, but she brushed her fingers through her air and muttered things that didn’t make sense. Things about never scaring her like that ever again. Things about always going to be there to catch her, no matter what. And Rylee…froze. She didn’t know what to do. Mom never hugged her and she never cried either. She felt odd, numb, awkward and weird as her mom slowly sat up, glasses broken and hair messy with leaves stuck in it. She smiled and slowly thumbed away the tears on Rylee’s face.

  “I’m sorry,” Rylee whispered, voice choked. “I just wanted to see if I could do it, and then—”

  Her father landed on the grass beside them, his shadow even longer between them. The sun was dying, and the pale darkness of summer was coloring everything a pale purple haze. “Well,” he said. “Still not quite able to.”

  “I don’t want to see you right now,” her mom said, not looking at him. “Leave.”

  “I was making sure she realized what it actually means to fly. You can’t hesitate. You can’t be afraid.”

  “Oh bullshit,” her mom said. Rylee blinked. She never swore either. Slowly, her mom got up, an arm on Rylee’s shoulder, standing in front of her as her parents stared each other down. “You and I both know you’ve been plenty scared before, so don’t act like she shouldn’t be either. She’s eight. Of course she’s afraid of heights.”

  “She’s Arkathian,” he said quietly, jaw hard. “She has the blood of conquerors, and heights scare her? How is she ever meant to be more than a human girl, if all she ever does is hesitate and freeze when the time comes?”

  Her mom took a step closer, looking into his eyes. “You ran away because you were afraid, too.” The air seemed to get colder. A prickle ran down Rylee’s spine as she shrunk behind her mom. “Don’t you have their blood too, or was that just something all of those blood-thirsty monsters tell themselves to feel slightly more special?”

  Zeus remained silent for several seconds, looking down his nose at her. “You consider me a monster?”

  “I consider you our daughter’s father,” Veronica said. “And that comes first before anything else.”

  He looked at her, then, at the girl standing behind his wife. She cowered. He shook his head and left.

  Veronica swore quietly under her breath, pinching her nose as the clouds above blew apart and the apple tree shed its leaves and apples and pieces of loose bark. A car alarm wailed and the wind messied their blonde hair.

  “Did I do something wrong again?” Rylee whispered.

  She looked at her, slowly getting onto both her knees. Grass stains all over her clothes, a bruise on her collarbone from where Rylee’s forehead had smacked her. She took Rylee’s face in both her hands, shaking her head slowly. “No,” she said. “You didn’t, and you know what? To hell with him. When you learn how to fly, don’t ever look back, but you’ve just got to promise me something, Rylee, and you’ve got to stick to it.” She nodded slowly, then stuck out her pinky finger, because that’s what Bianca taught her—you never break pinky promises, not here on Earth, and apparently to Bianca, not anywhere else in the whole universe either. Veronica smiled and laughed a little, taking her pinky. “I need you to promise me that you’ll never be like him. I love your father, a version of him that I know he can be, but when your powers eventually come, never think you’re above other people just because of what you think you might be. You’re my little girl, and mom is gonna worry herself to bits if you get hurt, Ok?”

  Rylee nodded, thoughts running through her mind. “I… I want to be a superhero, though.”

  Her mom shrugged. “And you will be,” she said quietly. “You’ll be the very best, but not if you follow his way. Being a superhero to him means being a warrior. Being a superhero here means caring for other people, even if it sometimes feels like you just don’t have the heart for it. You’re not a conqueror or judge, jury, or executioner.” She booped Rylee’s nose with her finger, then stands and picks up the couch cushions. “You’re always going to be my little girl, and my daughter is going to prove to her father that she’s more than he’ll ever be. Promise me that?”

  She was afraid he was watching, afraid he’d hear her reply, so instead, she picked up the pillows.

  And nodded.

  I promise.