1.13 – Over Three Years

Leona sat at the kitchen table, her fingers tracing the floral pattern on the tablecloth while Goonie sipped her tea and Quinn fidgeted with the strap of her bag.

"I just think..." Leona's voice wavered, and she clutched the edge of her chair as if it might anchor her. "It would be easier to finish school at home. Until—" She hesitated, glancing at Quinn, who gave her a subtle nod of encouragement. "Until I look more like... me."

"Sweetheart," Goonie began, her tone warm but firm, "you might be underestimating your friends. Give them a chance to show who they really are before you decide they'll all let you down."

Leona opened her mouth to argue but found herself biting her lip instead. She wanted to protest, to say she knew better, but the certainty in Goonie's eyes made her pause.

Quinn leaned forward, her grin equal parts teasing and reassuring. "Yeah, and hey, if they turn out to be jerks, we can TP their houses or something."

"Quinn," Goonie chastised, though her lips twitched in amusement.

"I'm just saying!" Quinn shrugged, but her gaze settled on Leona with surprising sincerity. "You're tougher than you think. You can handle it."

Leona looked down at her hands, her nails nervously tapping against the wood. The truth was, she didn’t want to be some flagbearer for trans kids everywhere. What she wanted was quieter—normalcy. To walk down the halls at school and be seen as just another girl. Not "brave" or "different." Just Leona.

But even as the thought settled in her chest, she heard herself sigh. "Okay," she murmured, her voice barely audible. Then louder, with a small, reluctant smile: "Okay. I'll try."

Goonie reached across the table, her hand warm and grounding as it rested on Leona's. "That’s all we’re asking. Just give it a shot."

Leona didn’t regret giving it a shot—at least, not entirely. Going back to her old school would help forge her courage, although she was exposing herself to more heartache. The halls of her old school felt heavier than she remembered, the gazes of her classmates sticking to her like burrs. She kept her head down, her books clutched to her chest, and tried to ignore the whispers that trailed behind her.

Her friends greeted her warmly enough, but their kindness carried an edge of awkwardness. They still laughed at the same jokes, teased her about her favorite superheroes, and passed notes during class. Yet, the offhand comments stung more now—the ones about her voice, her clothes, her height, although Leona wasn’t much taller than the tallest girls in her class. And the questions—always the questions.

"So, like, are you gonna change everything?" one of them had asked during lunch, their tone more curious than cruel.

Leona had forced a laugh, her fork stirring the uneaten food on her tray. "I guess that depends on what you mean by 'everything.'"

The answer had been enough to steer the conversation elsewhere, but the unease lingered.

Despite the pain and awkwardness, Leona charged on each day at school, determined to adapt. She faced the challenges of fitting in with her old classmates, the ones who still remembered her as someone else, someone different. Their curious stares, the hushed whispers just inside earshot—it was all part of the grind. She weathered it, her mind set on more important things.

Some awful things were said right to her face, sharp and biting. The words stung, but Leona didn’t flinch. She had learned to mask the hurt with a quiet resolve, keeping her chin high even when the insults were aimed at her like arrows. "Freak," they’d mutter, or "What’s with the costume?" They thought they could break her, but their words had little power over her anymore. She’d taken worse hits from her own thoughts than anything they could throw at her. Still, the isolation hurt. The occasional smirk, the sideways glances—they reminded her every day that, in their eyes, she was an outsider.

One day, the cafeteria buzzed with the usual lunchtime chaos—chairs scraping, trays clattering, voices rising and falling in a jumble of conversations. Leona sat at her usual table, the same group of friends she'd been with since third grade surrounding her. On the surface, everything seemed fine, normal even.

"Hey, Leo—uh, Leona," a blonde girl, Jackelene by the name said, fumbling over her name. "Do you, like, have to sit down to pee now?"

The words were casual, tossed out between bites of a sandwich as though they were asking about the weather.

Leona froze, her face burning. She managed a weak laugh, trying to play it off. "Why would you even care?"

Her friend shrugged, completely missing the tightness in Leona's smile. "Just curious."

Another chimed in, elbowing her lightly. "Yeah, I mean, you're still basically the same, right? Just with, like... different clothes?"

The knot in Leona’s chest tightened, and she stared at the untouched apple on her tray. They didn’t mean to hurt her, she knew that. Their voices weren’t cruel, just oblivious. But their words cut all the same, each one a reminder that they didn’t see her the way she desperately wanted to be seen.

"Sure," she muttered, her voice barely audible. She focused on peeling the label off her water bottle, wishing the conversation would move on.

Later, in the quiet of her room, Leona sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at her phone. Messages from her friends pinged one after another—memes, jokes, random chatter. None of it felt right anymore.

"You’re being silly," she whispered to herself, but the words rang hollow.

The next day, she hesitated in front of the mirror, adjusting her hairband and tugging at the hem of her sweater. No matter how much she tried to shake off yesterday’s comments, they clung to her.

By the time she sat down for dinner, the decision had solidified in her mind.

"I think... I think I want to change schools," Leona said, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat.

Goonie looked up from her plate, her expression calm but searching. "Are you sure?"

Leona nodded, her gaze dropping to her hands. "Yeah. They’re not bad people, but... they don’t really get it. And I don’t think they ever will."

Quinn reached across the table, giving Leona’s arm a squeeze. "You deserve better than that," she said simply.

"I just want a fresh start," Leona admitted. "Somewhere I can just be me."

Goonie smiled, a mix of pride and understanding softening her features. "Then that’s what we’ll do."

After Leona’s confession of how bad it felt to go to school with her old classmate, Goonie had been adamant: a fresh start was exactly what Leona needed. 

So, with nothing but her determination and an empty notebook, they enrolled her in a new school. It was a clean slate, no lingering connections from the past to complicate things. As Leona stepped through the doors on her first day, she realized just how much she needed this. She wasn’t just starting over with her education; she was starting over with herself, too.

Her transition had already settled into its own rhythm. Most of the risk of it being exposed had passed. In this new place, she didn’t have to fear awkward questions or stares. Everyone knew the school had made special arrangements for her—things like private changing areas for gym class, just in case—but aside from those, there was nothing to make her stand out. No one seemed suspicious, no one cared. Leona was just another student, blending in without much fanfare.

When she’d first walked through the school’s halls, she half-expected it to feel different, like a new chapter in her life would hit her like a wave. But instead, it felt almost… ordinary. And maybe that was the point.

By lunch, Leona had already made a few connections. It wasn’t hard—she just had to find her people. Her love for superheroes had always been a good conversation starter, but at her old school, it felt like her interests had to be tucked away, like a secret. Here, it wasn’t so out of place. She met a couple of kids in the cafeteria, heads buried in their comics, and they didn’t flinch when she started talking about Mistral’s latest fictional arcs in comics or real events or her theories on Vanguard’s powers and about how old he might actually be.

“So, you think the Midnight Avenger will ever beat Omega?” one of the girls asked, eyes bright with the kind of excitement Leona hadn’t realized she missed.

Leona grinned, excited to finally get into it. “Omega’s too powerful. I think the only way to beat him would be to—” she paused, searching for the right words, “–outsmart him. You know, make him think he’s already won. The Midnight Avenger’s got the stealth and brains for it.”

The girl nodded vigorously. “Exactly! He’s all about the mind games.”

As the conversation grew louder, a couple of other kids joined in, eagerly swapping favorite heroes, arguing over which villain had the best origin story, and debating the most ridiculous plot twists.

Leona couldn’t help but feel a little thrill. She was talking to people who understood her, who didn’t see her as a thing to be figured out. No one cared about the transition, or the changes she’d gone through, not that they knew—they cared mostly about the latest superhero gossip. It was simple. Normal. Exactly what Leona had craved. Though it was sad to leave her old friends behind, but since she hadn’t connected especially well with any of them, it was easier than she thought it would be to start over with a clean slate.

Leona knew it was early days, but she couldn’t help feeling a little lighter. A new school, new friends, and the one thing she’d always carried with her—her love for superheroes—was her ticket into a group of kids who didn’t care about her past. They just cared about what she thought of the latest meta-gifted drama.

It was, after all, something Leona was starting to realize she wanted most: to be seen for what she loved, not for what others thought they knew about her.

The constant news cycle of the meta-gifted—their powers, their fights, their latest scandals—had become background noise, like the hum of a fan on a hot summer day. It was everywhere, impossible to avoid. Just another part of life, like the weather. People talked about it, but it wasn’t the sort of thing that made her sit up and pay attention anymore.

If she’d tried, though, she might have found a new conversation. The other kids weren’t satisfied with the usual chatter about capes and powers. They wanted something different, something deeper. And that’s where Leona slid in—talking about Mistral’s latest twist, debating Vanguard’s new leadership, or hashing out whether or not the Midnight Avenger would ever get the recognition he deserved.

“So you’re telling me,” one of her new friends said, her eyes narrowing in mock disbelief, “that you think Mistral could take out Omega?”

Leona leaned forward, her voice dropping with the seriousness of the conversation. “She’s not about brute force. She’d use the environment. In a city like San Isidro? She could trap him—he’d never see it coming.”

Another kid from the group grinned. “With snow powers, really? Phaw! You’re just saying that ‘cause you think she’s cool.”

Leona’s grin was easy, the back-and-forth light and comfortable. 

"Okay, but what about Vanguard’s unbroken win records? There’s just something about him that screams rigged… or faked. How can someone be that strong?” Another pointed out, shrugging.

The conversation continued for hours, as they bounced theories back and forth. Her new friends, all from the same outcast fringe, seemed to feed off each other’s enthusiasm like an unspoken agreement—these people, these heroes were more than just entertainment or mere chat fodder; they were something real and special to them. Even fictional heroes got their due. In a world where superheroes and villains existed, it was sometimes hard to distinguish between reality and fantasy.

But even whenever she wasn’t immersed in comics, Leona found herself spending more time away from the pages and screens. It was parkour that had started to take up most of her energy. It wasn’t just running that she was interested in though. Parkour had caught her attention: it was everything else—climbing walls, leaping from railings, darting through alleyways. The movement was free, unrestricted, and completely exhilarating. In a city like San Isidro, it seemed like a particularly useful skill, and if she learned it, it might bring her closer to her heroic idols like Mistral and the Midnight Avenger. Now Vanguard? Nothing could possibly bring a normal human within miles of who and what Vanguard represented.

She had tried her hand at other sports before, like Quinn did, and unlike Quinn, they never held her interest long enough. It wasn’t that she wasn’t some kind of a genius that didn’t want to focus on one thing too long, but rather Leona was kind of average at most things. Running, however, was one of the very few things, aside from geeking out and computers she was particularly good at.

But running on a track felt too confined to her. The school’s team asked her if she’d like to compete but Leona decided to turn down their kind proposition, because it wasn’t her thing to compete with others, running around in circles as she called it. Hurdles felt like a repetitive challenge she could do in her sleep, but parkour—the very thought of doing parkour and getting good at it made the world feel wide open.

Quinn had introduced her to a few people who were into parkour, and at first, Leona wasn’t sure what to think. It involved running, something she already had downpat, but parkour was different. It was like running through a video game, but real, and in 3D.

"Think of it like you're using the environment," Quinn had explained, grinning as she pointed to a low wall. "You don’t just run around it; you run through it. You make the city your playground."

Leona wasn’t convinced at first, but the more she thought about it, the more it intrigued her. San Isidro, with its patchwork of old buildings and narrow alleys, was the perfect place to try it out. There was always something new, always some corner or rooftop to jump to, a new route to take. The city was like an endless obstacle course.

She started small. Short jumps between benches, little hops over curbs, climbing a low wall here and there. At first, it felt awkward, like she was overthinking every move. Her feet never seemed to land quite right, and her hands felt unsure on the surfaces she tried to grip. But the more she practiced, the more natural it started to feel.

Still, there were moments when the nerves crept up. She’d stand at the edge of a low wall, staring at the gap in front of her. The jump didn’t look too hard—just a few feet—but her heart thudded in her chest.

"Just go for it, Leona," Quinn had said, watching from a few steps back. "You’ve got this."

Leona took a deep breath, then pushed herself forward. Her legs carried her over the gap, her arms reaching instinctively for the ledge as she landed. She wobbled but stayed upright.

“Whoa,” she gasped, a mix of excitement and disbelief flooding through her. “I actually did it.”

Quinn clapped, her face lit up with a wide grin. "Told you. Now, try the next one."

Leona stood there for a moment, catching her breath. The jump had been small in the grand scheme of things, but it felt like a victory. The world around her had shifted a little bit. Each jump, each leap, was something new. And with every new challenge, Leona was starting to feel more confident—not just in parkour, but in herself. Some time later when she’d graduated from Quinn’s Baby Steps in Parkour for Her Awesome Little Sister course, she arranged for Leona to meet some old acquaintances that would take her the rest of the way. They walked her through the basics and tested her basic skills before finally taking her to a place to test her courage.