Supergirl (7 page)

"Are you?" Nigel said, magnificently sarcastic. "
Where
, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

"Where?" Linda Lee said. "Why, here . . . on Earth."

A ripple of laughter went through the room.

"How fortunate for the rest of us," Nigel said. "Might I presume then that whilst—" he liked that little touch and repeated it, "
whilst
you were staring at the wall and not at your terminal, like all the rest of your little squirrelly friends, you were, nevertheless and in fact, hard at work solving the equation?"

Linda Lee nodded. What else could she do?

"Excellent." Nigel rubbed his hands together, always pleased when he had located a perfect victim. "The answer, please, Miss Lee. Class, pay attention. We are about to be enlightened"

Lucy groaned, amazed again at how Linda Lee really didn't know her way around
at all
. Why didn't she say she was sick to her stomach? Or her nose was bleeding? Or she'd suddenly felt dizzy? She gave her friend a hopeless but sympathetic glance, the glance of an unhappy spectator at a hanging.

"Five billion," Linda Lee said, "two hundred seventy-one million, nine thousand and ten."

Nigel blinked. The audacity of the girl, pulling a figure like that out of thin air. Or . . . was it thin air? It, somehow, sounded . . . right. Feverishly, he flipped through his answer book.

The bell rang, the girls stampeded toward the door. Only Linda Lee was still awkwardly piling up her books. "Move it," Lucy urged. "Let's get out of here before Nasty makes you stay." Poking and prodding, Lucy finally got Linda Lee to her feet and on the way to the door.

At his desk, Nigel had found the answer. "Miss Lee!"

"Awww . . . sheeeet," Lucy said.

"Miss Lee, have you been going through my drawers?"

"Gawd," Lucy muttered, "not without rubber gloves." She gave Nigel a blinding smile.

"Miss Lee, how did you know the correct answer?"

"Ahhhh . . ."

Lucy clutched Linda Lee by the sleeve. Poor little sheep among the bison.

"I ask you again, Miss Lee.
How
?"

"I guess I just—guessed."

"It's this freaky weather we've been having," Lucy put in, shoving Linda out the door. "All these storms, sir. It ionizes the atmosphere. Shock waves, electromagnetism. It makes people smarter, uh, for a second." How about that? Nice going, Lucy, she congratulated herself. She gave Nigel another flashing smile. "Well, we gotta run, sir. Ta-ta!"

She shepherded Linda Lee down the corridor, whistling and shaking her hand at the close call.

"Thanks," Linda Lee said. "I should learn to be careful, or else I'll—" She caught herself and stopped.

Lucy looked at her curiously. "Or you'll what? Say, how
did
you know the answer?"

"I'm not sure. Six-dimensional geometry—I could never do it in my head before . . . but . . . it just came to me."

"Six-dimensional geometry? What's that? Never mind, don't tell me. Just let Mother Lucy give you some advice—You keep showing off like that, and nobody, but
nobody
, is going to like you.

Despite Lucy's friendliness, Linda Lee couldn't help feeling lonely now and then; and it was more then now and then that she thought of her parents, Alura and Zor-El, and of her dear friend Zaltar. Sometimes, remembering that last hour on Argo, and thinking of what would happen to all of them if she didn't return with the Omegahedron, she came as close as she ever did to despair. But she was made of pretty strong stuff and generally pushed away those feelings before they got a grip on her.

The odd thing was, what often hurt the most was her vanity! Then, again, maybe it wasn't so surprising. After all, her true self was a tall and stunning blonde, seventeen-year-old woman, both bright and brave. As plain Linda Lee, nebbishy, shy, uncertain, she even felt shorter. It could really get on her nerves. Understandable, right?

Linda Lee, née Kara, AKA Supergirl, thought so, and consoled herself one day with a haircut. She was in the bathroom, scissors in hand, happily wearing her very own blue and red Supergirl outfit, right down to the knee-high red boots, when she heard Lucy coming into their room. To be precise, she heard Lucy charging into their room. Lucy generally entered rooms with the same noisy enthusiasm with which she played field hockey or softball.

"Hey, Lii-inda," she yodeled, banging on the bathroom door, "you in there?"

"Yes, I am."

Lucy sat down on her bed and began digging mud out of her cleats. Clucking, she glanced across at Linda's side of the room. It definitely made Lucy uncomfortable to see that neat, clean bed and that neat, clean, bare wall. She scraped some of the junk off her bed onto the floor and brooded over her roommate. What was it with Linda Lee? Did she think she was a nun? No family pictures, no posters on the wall, no candy bar wrappers littering the closet, no empty potato chip bags crunching between the sheets. The girl was in a bad way. She would just have to have another heart-to-heart with Linda Lee. Loosen up, girl! she'd tell her. Let go! Live a little!

This time, she'd shake Linda Lee up properly. Lucy kept having the feeling that she was on the verge of a breakthrough with Linda Lee. No way was Lucy going to believe that someone she liked—and she did like Linda Lee, though sometimes she forgot why—no way could a friend of hers be as truly, well, blaaaaa, as Linda Lee sometimes came across.

Lucy bounced impatiently on the bed, eager to make her pitch. "You fall in, Linda?"

"
Momento
. I'm cutting my hair."

Oh, no! This would be the foul-up of the century. Lucy jumped up. "Let me in, Lin, I'll do it for you. Nobody should cut her own hair. I did it once, and it was disaster city"

"No, thanks. I can manage."

Shrugging, Lucy sat down again and picked at her cleats. Some people just had to learn by experience. Maybe she wouldn't say anything to her roomie. She couldn't hold Linda Lee's hand
EVERY
step of the way. She tossed a clod of mud onto Linda Lee's pristine bed. There! That was a homey touch.

In the bathroom, Supergirl studied herself in the mirror. It was good to be wearing her own clothes again, good to see her own hair and her own real expressions on her face, good to be able to hold up her head and, even if just to herself, admit who she was and what she was capable of.

But on with it. She couldn't stay locked in the bathroom all day. She separated another strand of hair, glanced into the mirror and shot a beam of energy from eye to mirror. The beam bounced off the mirror and struck her hair at precisely the right angle, cutting off an inch or so of the honey-blonde strands. Excellent. She took another lock of hair and repeated the procedure.

Lucy looked Linda Lee over as she came out of the bathroom. "I thought you cut it. It looks the same to me. Kinda dull. No offense meant,

but you could use some streaks."

"Oh, no, I'd never do that."

"Linda, don't you ever want to change your personality? Be someone else for just a few minutes? Don't you get booored being you? No offense meant. You wouldn't be half bad-looking if you'd just get some
zip
into your personality!"

"You think so?" Linda Lee started clearing the bureau, which was inches deep in Lucy's junk. Magazines, movie stubs, a mayonnaise bottle, soda caps, a broken green cigarette lighter, three dirty socks (each one a different color), five nonworking ballpoint pens, eighty-eight cents in pennies, and two keys to nothing.

"What if we gave you a blonde rinse? Wait a
SEC
. Why don't I pierce your ears?"

Linda Lee held up one of Lucy's bras. "What's this thing, Lucy?"

"Very funny. Don't try to change the subject,
WHICH IS
, piercing your ears."

"
What
my ears?"

"Aww, don't give me that scared-sheep look, Lin. I can do it as well as the regular places. All we want is a needle. I heat it up, dab some alcohol on the old earlobes, shove in the needle, and—that's it. Your entire image is changed. You get tons of zip! Your whole personality perks. And, P.S., all the guys go cra-aa-zy!"

"AII that," Linda Lee said, earnestly, "just because I have holes in my ears?"

At that moment, Lucy almost threw in the towel. Dark, deep-down despair broke out in her heart. Why was she knocking herself out? Was this girl
fa real
? And how had she, Lucy Lane, the girl with zip to spare, ever got stuck with this nasal drip from the depression?

"Lin-daa," she began, "sit down and listen to Aunt Lucy." She sighed. Her heart really wasn't in this, but she figured that the least she could do for old Lange Zine (whoever he was) was
try
to save her roomie from herself. Then, before she had to say word one, Lucy got this terrific flash and realized that Linda Lee actually had this sort of neat sense of humor and an incredible straight-faced way of saying things.
What's this?
Like a bra was some medieval torture instrument.
You'll what my ears?
Like pierced ears was this bizarre ritual. Yuk, yuk.

In a good mood once more, Lucy said, "So where are you going for the weekend?"

"Nowhere."

"You're staying here? No way! After everyone leaves, this place'Il be as much fun as Cleopatra's tomb"

"Why's everybody leaving?"

Lucy shook her head. There she goes again. Yuk, yuk. Oh, well, play along with the girl. "Little holiday known as Memorial Day," she said, as straight-faced as Linda Lee. Then she couldn't contain her enthusiasm. "Three-day weekend, cha cha cha!" She stuck a paper flower in her teeth and, only slightly hindered by her cleats, fandangoed across the trash and clothes on the floor.

"Tell you what," she said, falling across the bed, "you come home with me for the weekend. No big deal, I only live five miles away. We'll have a blast, eat like pigs and hang out at Chicken City—Oh, wait, did I tell you about this guy, Jimmy Olsen, who's coming up to see me from Metropolis? Wait till you meet him! He knows your cousin, Clark. I could get Jimmy to bring a friend for you." And thought to herself, If he knows what's good for him, he'll find
somebody
.

"Thanks," Linda Lee said, "but I guess I'll just stay here . . . I have lots of things to do, Lucy. Really"

Before Lucy could protest, Jody, from down the hall, stuck her round, pimply face in the door. "Hey, gang. Gloria just got this bizarre package from her folks, a hair dryer that makes popcorn. She's got it down in the lounge and it's outta control"

"Pig
OUT!
" Lucy cried joyously and dived through the door.

"Lucy," Myra, the leader toad, whined, "where's your roomie?"

Lucy stuffed a handful of popcorn into her mouth and tried to pretend Myra didn't exist. Muffy, the follower toad, strummed on a huge acoustic guitar. "There's nooo place . . . like hoooo-me," she mooed. The lounge was filled with girls, dancing, drinking soda, and eating popcorn. Ah, yes, popcorn. The hair dryer had, indeed, gone beserk. The lounge had been turned into popcorn heaven. Popcorn crunched underfoot, crackled as you sat down, and spilled out of lamps, hats, and wastebaskets.

The girls' housemother, fondly known as Mrs. M., stumbled—er, walked in, and looked blearily around. "Okay! Whoos going to clean up this messh? Huh?" As nobody answered her—actually, nobody ever answered her, anywhere, anytime—Mrs. M. answered herself. "Not me." Satisfied with the dialogue, she stumbled out again.

"I'm talking to you, Lucy," Myra persisted. "Where's your roomie? No, don't tell me. I know. She's out to lunch." This humorous remark caused Myra to break out in a rash of pleasant chuckles. "Awwwk! Awwwkl Awwwk!"

Lucy gave up. "She heard you were going to be here, Myra, and she got sick to her stomach." And speaking of Linda Lee. . .just then, Lucy saw her, making her way through the room, her arms full of books. "Linda" She waved. "Come on, Linda, stick around, we need some help on this popcorn."

"Uh, no thanks, it always sticks in my teeth"

"What'sa matter," Myra said, walking up to Linda Lee and grabbing her books, "we're not good enough for you?"

"Could I have my books back, please?"

"Say, please."

"I did."

"Say it again"

Linda Lee decided not to get angry. "Please, can I have my books back?"

Myra dropped the books with a thud on Linda Lee's feet. "God, what a
WIMP
"

Jody bent down to help Linda Lee pick up the books. "Geography?" she said. "You're taking
geography
, Linda?
Midvale and its Points of Interest?
"

"Short book," Muffy said intelligently, and she and Myra went into spasms of laughter again. "Awwwk! Awwwk! Awwwk!"

Linda Lee gathered up her books. "Actually, I'm trying to learn all I can—" She saw Lucy's eyes warning her, but she stumbled on, ". . . all I can about where I live." Blew it again, Lucy's eyes told her. "Well . . . I, ah, thanks for helping me. I have to go study now."

"'I have to go study now,'" Myra mimicked. "I'm not
BORING
enough yet."

Lucy spun around. "Shut
UP
, Myra."

"You gonna make me?"

The two girls glared at each other. Muffy went back to singing. "Beee it ever sooo humble . . ." And Linda Lee, with an apologetic glance at Lucy, got out of there.

As Lucy had predicted, hardly a soul, from Headmaster down to the last part-time janitor, stayed on in school over the holiday weekend. Only Mrs. M. settled down for the holiday with a case of beer. Friday afternoon, girls and teachers alike burst out of the buildings and into waiting cars with a speed that Supergirl would have applauded. However, as it was Linda Lee watching the exodus, she just scraped her foot on the ground and waved weakly.

"See you later at Popeye's," Lucy called, ducking into her parents' car.

"I'll try to make it."

Lucy stuck her head out the window. "No trying, Linda, babes! I'm counting on you to be there."