Violet Lightning

By Abigail Falanga

Yesterday was the awfullest day in the history of awful.

Morning light intruded on my doze, bringing back another rehash of those bullies tormenting my almost-friend, and me doing nothing about it. “Stay out of this, Ade-lame!” they taunted, so I did.

Any minute now, mom would yell, “Adelie, get up!”

I pulled up the sheets, refusing to face another new day. Nothing ever changed.

My eyes flew open. These weren’t my sheets.

Who has gray sheets?!

And that wasn’t my ceiling! It was too high and creamy-white.

I jumped out of bed with a yell—not in my voice. My feet landed on thick carpet, at the end of legs too long and dark to be mine.

I caught sight of myself in a mirror.

The woman looking back at me stood tall and fit with curly black hair and bright lavender eyes.

Violet Lightning!

A chubby man with purple dreadlocks looked in. “Hey, Vi, you ok?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “Fine.”

Fortunately, whoever-it-was accepted this and disappeared, leaving me to take in the sudden, glorious change.

Yesterday, just when everything was at its all-time worst, I put money I’d wanted to spend at the ice cream truck into the old, broken-down vending machine on the corner.

Sometimes it granted wishes—or so they said. Usually, it just ate money and gave nothing back. But…

I’d wished to be Violet Lightning.

And I was—hopefully for one whole day.

Only the best superheroine around. I’d read everything about her, seen all the videos. Like most supers, she kept her real identity a tight secret. She was never afraid, always won the in the end, even against her arch-enemy.

Violet Lightning had the usual five powers—speed, strength, healing, reflexes, flight. Plus, she could—

“Vi,” Purple-Haired Man called from outside the room. “You coming out for breakfast or what?”

“Breakfast?” I yelped. How was I going to hide that I was me? “Uh…”

An alarm sounded, and a display lit up.

“Burglary in progress,” a computer voice reported. “17th and Main. Perpetrator wearing…”

One of the windows opened, replaced by a stand holding Violet Lightning’s iconic purple-and-silver suit, open and ready to wear.

I grinned. “Breakfast can wait!”

“The police’ll handle it—”

I jumped right at the suit, felt it close around me as my feet left the window ledge, and next second I was—

Five stories up.

Maybe I should have thought this through.

My heart lurched. But I’d hardly begun to panic before—I was flying.

I whooped as I soared above the city.

Okay—now to try the big thing, the thing she was named for. I’d studied her moves; it shouldn’t be too hard…

I closed my eyes, concentrating on a staticky tingle in my hands. Then, I opened my palms to the sky, released the energy, and—

Yes!

Brilliant purple lightning bolts shot from my fingertips.

It was time to be the hero I’d always looked up to.

I almost managed not to zap anyone while catching the burglars. Just as I was dropping them off at the police station, a tiny display popped up, alerting me to a carjacking in progress.

Then a supervillain up to something in the train yard.

It was late afternoon, and it felt like I was only getting started when I spotted an ice cream cart and decided to think out what I’d do with the rest of the day.

Maybe I’d sweep by the school and give those bullies something to think about. Or—

“Blueberry cheesecake sundae, please.”

The first bite of ice cream melted over my tongue. My stomach growled loudly, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten anything all day.

I sat down on a bench and devoured half the sundae fast enough to give myself brain freeze.

“Adelie!”

I flinched at my name and looked up the street. It was me, standing at the bus stop, hands on hips. My body, anyway—a ten-year-old girl with dirty-blond hair and a furious expression.

She stomped over to me.

“Violet Lightning?” I whispered.

“Yeah. Except you’re in my body.”

“Well, you’re in mine!”

“That’s not my fault. Is it yours?”

“I didn’t know it would work! It was just a silly wish.” Feeling stupid, I stammered out the whole story—trying to stand up to the bullies, the vending machine. “We’ll be back to normal tomorrow.”

“Buy me an ice cream cone and we’ll talk.” She smirked. “I used up all your cash chasing you down.”

She chose mango coconut and sat down on the bench next to me. “Why wish for this?”

“You’re the coolest superheroine around. You stand up to villains, and… it would be nice to be able to do that.”

“But not every single villain.” She rolled her eyes. “Once I convinced Spence I was me, he tracked you going after every emergency report.”

“But that’s what you—”

“The police take care of most of it. That’s their job.”

“But you…”

“Pick my battles.” She narrowed her eyes at her ice cream as if it was a supervillain.

“But why?”

“How are you feeling?”

I shrug. “Really hungry. Kinda tired.”

“That’s why. Pick your battles, or be too tired to fight the ones that really matter. And end up binge-eating a sundae I’m going to regret tomorrow.”

“But…” I jammed a huge spoonful in my mouth. “What about stupid jerks who pick on people who can’t fight back?”

She smiled—not my smile, but Violet Lightning’s kind, mature one. “Is that what all this was about? Standing up to bullies?”

“Maybe…”

“In that case—that’s something you’re going to have to do. In your own body.”

I huffed. “Yeah? And how am I supposed to do that?”

“I can give you a few pointers. But you know what? I misjudged you. Most people would just want to play with my powers. You have the heart of a superheroine, Adelie, and you always will—no matter what you look like on the outside.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Abigail Falanga may be found in New Mexico creating magic in many ways – with fabric, food, paper, music, and especially with words! She’s loved fantasy ever since playing out epic adventures of swords, fairies, and monsters with her siblings, and loved sci-fi since her dad’s stories around the dinner table. Besides sharing mad little stories on Havok, she is busily trying to launch approximately five hundred novels into the world. Some of them are even finished!

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