I found myself going out at night. Not going clubbing, or hanging out with friends, or really doing anything. I just liked being out on campus with no one else around. I liked being out in the cool air, laying down on the grass and looking up at the stars. I couldn't remember when I had begun my nightly excursions, or why. I just knew that I had started sneaking out last semester, always after my roommate had fallen asleep, and over Christmas break I had the worst time actually getting to sleep without ambling around campus first.

It was a cold night. I was wearing my Shuster U sweatshirt over a button up, and my hands were still freezing. I tugged my cardigan on over it, wrapping the sides of it over my chest. I didn't stop to relax on the grass under the manicured trees. Not tonight. I kept walking, to stay warm and to unwind in the dark, moonless night.

And I was glad that I did. Because as I walked down the path in between the library and Redwood Hall, I saw figures up ahead, below the streetlight. I slowed my pace.

There were three figures, two very tall, and both of them holding a brown paper bag in each hand. The third figure, the smallest figure, had their hands in their pockets and their shoulders slouched, like they did not want to be there. And judging from the way that the taller figures took looming steps towards them, they didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

"Come on man, have some," said the first tall figure, extending the hand that held the paper bag. "It's freaking delicious."

He didn't say freaking.

"That's okay," said the smaller guy. "I don't want any."

"Don't be such a coward." Yeah, he didn't say coward, but I did not like the misogynist word that he did use. Not at all. "You wouldn't be out here if you didn't want some."

The smaller guy gulped. "No," he said, and that was it.

Apparently, the two bigger guys didn't know what 'no' meant. "Chug it," said the second one, "or we'll chug it down your throat."

"No," he said again, louder this time.

No sooner had he said it then the first guy, the biggest one, grabbed him. The smaller guy struggled, but the guy easily pinned his hands behind his back. The second guy stepped forward, grabbing his head, poising the obscured bottle over his head.

"Stop!" I shouted before I knew what I was doing.

All three figures froze. In that brief moment, I saw the panic spread across the faces of the two attackers. And I saw the relief on the face of the smaller guy.

But again, it only lasted for a moment. Because then the second guy smiled.

"Why, you want some?"

"I want you to leave him alone."

All three guys were squinting in my direction, trying to figure out who I was, and why I should care what they were doing.

"And I want you to mind your own freaking business."

Again with that word.

The two big guys smiled as though they had just said the wittiest joke ever made.

"Just relax," said the first one. "We're just having some fun with our buddy."

"I'm not your buddy."

"Shut the heck up, man."

"Let him go," I said.

"Or what? You gonna make us?"

"If it comes to that."

The two guys looked at each other. Then they let go of the third guy. He backed up, looked between the two thugs, looked at me, then turned and ran. I didn't stop him.

"Step into the light," one of them ordered, "so we can see what kind of puny little--" again with that misogynist word--"we're dealing with here."

"I don't take orders. Especially from bullies."

That was the straw that broke them. They didn't wait for me to step into the light. Instead, they charged after me, into the darkness.

I did not move. I didn't want to throw the first blow. But I didn't have to worry about that.

The first guy found me, even with the darkness shrouding me. His fist collided with my face, and I heard the cracking of bone.

He screamed, so loudly and for so long that I was sure he was going to wake everyone on campus. I could see the blood flowing from his split knuckles.

The second guy was smarter. He used the beer bottle.

This time, I didn't sit back and just take it. I stopped his swing, catching the bottle in my hand. And with the smallest squeeze, it shattered under my grip.

He stared at the broken bottle, cursing in amazement.

I punched him.

Just a small jab, square in the ribs.

And he went soaring. He crashed into his friend, and they splattered on the ground.

I looked up, and saw the small guy racing toward us, the campus police officer in tow. Good. The police would take it from here.

But they couldn't find me. They couldn't find out who I was. What I was.

So I ran. And I didn't stop until I was back in my dorm, safe in bed, where no human could discover my secret.

My sneakers squeaked on the tile flooring of the library steps as I raced up them. I ignored the sound, intent on my mission. I had a half hour to spare before my first class, but I was paranoid, and the paranoia urged me forward.

I rounded the top of the steps and marched past the rows and rows of bookshelves. I looked at the scrap of notebook paper wrinkled in my hand, the anthology editor of my sought after textbook hurriedly scratched on. Wallace, Barbara.

I skidded into the V-Z shelves, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, especially when I noticed someone else in the aisle. As if I were just casually browsing. As if I were just casually browsing textbooks, of all things.

My eyes landed on the textbook I was after, the literature anthology for my British Literature II class. I inched toward it, trying to move at a casual pace. Why I was trying to play this so cool, I wasn't sure. It just seemed like the right move.

I was so close. Wallace, Barbara's anthology loomed on the horizon. It was almost mine. Victory was mine.

But, it wasn't. Because as I reached for the textbook, another hand reached for it as well.

"Hey," I protested as the hand grabbed it, and by extent, my victory, off of the shelf.

"Oh, I'm sorry, were you after this one too?" The girl said.

"Yes," I said, pushing up my glasses. "As a matter of fact, I was. I need it for my class."

She made an apologetic face, but held the book tightly to her chest. "I'm sure the bookstore still has plenty of copies."

"They do," I said, forcing a smile. "It costs three hundred dollars. Three hundred and twenty-six dollars."

"Amazon, maybe?"

"My class is in a half hour." I checked my phone. "Twenty seven minutes. Amazon Prime doesn't work that quickly."

She brushed her dark hair over her shoulder. "Oh well. No one uses the textbook on the first day."

That was true. Still, I hated feeling unprepared.

The girl took a couple steps back. She smiled apologetically, but she was still backing away with my textbook. "Good luck. I hope you find one." And then she left.

I tooled around campus for a few minutes before I headed to Ellsworth Hall, where most of the english classes were located. I found the classroom, which was the same one where British Literature I had been located last semester.

The first row was filled. I pursed my lips together. I had read in an article on college success last summer that said the closer a student sat to the front of the classroom, the higher the grade they would have in the class. If there was one thing I liked more than feeling prepared, it was getting a high grade.

I sighed and resigned myself to the second row, next to the wall. I pulled my notebook and pencil pouch out of my backpack before I set it on the table, leaning agaisnt the wall.

From the front of the class, Ms. Steele gave me a smile and a nod. Ms. Steele was really cool. She was my favorite professor, and I wasn't sure if that was because this was my third semester in one of her classes, or if I continued to sign up for her courses because she was my favorite. It was a conundrum that I had pondered sporadically over Christmas break, but had not considered deeply enough to arrive upon an answer.

I smiled and nodded back to her.

"Alright everybody, let's get rolling," Ms. Steele said, as she did at the beginning of practically every class.

I opened my notebook to the first page as Ms. Steele began calling the roll.

"I'm only going to call the roll for the first few weeks, until I get used to your faces," she explained. "This is a small class anyway, so it shouldn't take too long."

Ms. Steele was right: it was a pretty small class. I glanced around the room, at the maybe ten other students, four of whom were taking up the front row. My eyes landed on the most mesmerizingly glossy hair I had ever seen, sitting in front and to the left of me. As the owner of the beautiful hair flipped it over her shoulder, I instantly recognized her from the library.

The textbook thief. My eyes narrowed on the purloined textbook resting on the table in front of her, perfectly aligned on top of her notebook.

I should have known that she would be in this class. I suppose I just assumed that she'd had the same class at a different time. But it did not matter, because here she was.

"Kara Danvers," Ms. Steele said, snapping me out of my brooding.

"Here." I raised my hand hurriedly.

She kept going down the list, calling out a Fish, and a Ford, and a Kingsley, and then "Lena Luthor."

"Present," said my textbook thief.

Lena Luthor? How did I know that name?

Wait. Luthor. The Luthor's? As in the Luthor Corps Luthors? She couldn't be a Luthor Corps Luthor. But I had heard that Lex was an alumni of Shuster University. Actually, I'd heard from my cousin Clark that they had been friends and had graduated in the same class. So could this particular Luthor be related?

She had to be. I was sure of it. The Luthors were filthy rich, and this girl possessed a self assurance that only money could groom.

This realization brought another one: if she was a Luthor, than she was filthy rich. And if she was filthy rich, then she took a free textbook away from someone who couldn't afford to buy one.

The injustice of it hit me in a wave. How dare she. She had just grabbed that textbook and walked away, leaving me scrambling for options.

I suddenly realized that I was squeezing my pencil. I could feel the plastic of the barrel cracking easily under my fingers. It would be so satisfying just to pop it in half, but I made myself set it down on the table. I didn't want to draw attention to myself, and I certainly didn't want anyone finding out because of such a stupid thing.

No. The Luthor girl wasn't worth it.

Still, that didn't stop me from ruminating on it all through class. And my next class. All the way up to lunch.

"You're frowning," Alex said when I sat down next to her in the cafeteria.

"Well, I'm irritated."

"About what?"

I explained the whole textbook-Luthor girl situation.

"That sucks."

"It so does. And now I'm stuck without a textbook and with a terrible grudge."

"Well, I'm sure you can rent one from Amazon." Alex checked her phone under the table.

"That's what the Luthor girl said." I took a bite of my sandwich. Alex's eyes were still on her screen. "What's so interesting on your phone?"

Alex brushed her hair out of her face. "I was just checking the time. Maggie's class ends at 12:25. She's going to meet me here for lunch."

I noticed for the first time that Alex's plate was empty. She must have been waiting here for quite a while already.

"Aww," I said. "You are such a good girlfriend."

She grinned. "I'm just glad that our lunch breaks kind of coincide this semester. I like spending time with her outside of class."

I took a sip of my root beer. I hated the fact that the cafeteria's soda fountain had root beer, my number one weakness. Well, maybe not my number one.

"Do you have a lot of classes with her this semester?" I asked.

"Only two. Criminology and substance abuse."

"Perks of dating someone in the same major as you."

"Yeah," she grinned, stealing a fry from my plate. "Just one of many."

Maggie approached our table then, setting her hand on Alex's shoulder. "Hey, Danvers," she said. "Both of you."

Alex looked up at her, her cheeks pinkening the way they always did whenever she saw Maggie. "How was your morning class?"

"Obnoxious. I'll tell you about it when I get back." Maggie stuck her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket and headed off to grab a tray.

"You two are so cute," I said. "It makes the rest of us feel bad."

"You don't feel like a third wheel, do you, Kara?"

"No, not a third wheel, exactly." I didn't feel left out. I was so happy for Alex and Maggie, but I secretly couldn't help wanting what they had. Not that I needed a relationship to be happy. I just wanted one.

"You're still doing okay after your break-up, right?"

I glanced around the cafeteria until my eyes landed on James. James Olsen. He was smiling at something that his best friend, Winn, had said. James had a dazzling smile. It was one of the things I had liked most about him.

"Yes, I'm fine. I was the one who broke it off, remember?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No." And that was the truth. I didn't regret breaking up with him. I regretted ever getting romantically involved with him in the first place.

Maggie set her tray down on the table. "Did you guys hear about what happened last night?"

"No," Alex said. "What happened?"

"Two guys were beat up on campus. The police aren't exactly sure why."

I adjusted my glasses, trying to appear casual. "Do you know any details about what happened?" I took another sip of my root beer.

"They released that one of the victims had a broken hand, almost as though he punched a brick wall." Maggie took a bite of her food, maintaining eye contact with me the whole time that she chewed.

I gulped.

"You wouldn't know anything about this, would you Kara?"

"What? Pfft. No. Why would you think that?"

Alex gave me a flat look. "Kara, what did you do?"

"Nothing." I leaned forward and whispered "I can explain. It was an accident."

A month or so after Maggie and Alex had started dating, Alex decided to come clean with her about my origins after I had hugged Maggie just a little too hard and bruised her arms. Of course, Alex asked me if it was alright before saying anything to her. Now, I was regretting giving my sister the go-ahead.

Alex shook her head after I told her. "I can't believe you did that."

"What was I supposed to do? Just let that poor guy get harassed?"

"No, you did the right thing," Maggie said. "But you have to be careful when it comes to vigilantism."

"And when it comes to revealing your powers. Just promise me that you won't seek out trouble again."

"I promise."