DC Super Hero Girls #3 Page 7

  “Cheetah, stop smashing into Miss Martian’s electric car!”

  “Wonder Woman, if the car in front of you isn’t going fast enough, you DO NOT push it with your truck!”

  Batgirl smiled as the wind blew in her face. She had never ridden a motorcycle before. It was almost like flying. As Red Tornado yelled at his students, Batgirl rounded the back roads, sticking to the speed limit and taking the curves with ease. She wondered what it would be like if she could soup up the engine and add a little Barbara-Assisted Technology to the motorcycle. Her smile grew wider as she pushed the engine harder.

  Supergirl looked down at the B on her test, then at Batgirl’s paper, then back at hers again. “I didn’t know there was such a thing as an A+++. And why are they making fun of you?” she said, motioning to the garden bench where Cheetah and Star Sapphire were sitting.

  “It’s no biggie,” Batgirl said, slightly disappointed that she didn’t get an A++++. She made a mental note to ask her teacher if she could do more extra credit. “I got mocked all the time when I was at Gotham High, too.”

  Supergirl wrinkled her nose. “Really? ’Cause if it was me and people made fun of me, I’d be so stressed, I’d, I’d—” Her eyes lit up with the fire of her heat vision. “Well, I’d be a ball of stress.”

  Batgirl laughed knowingly and patted her friend on the back to calm her down. “Really, it’s okay,” she said. “There are worse things that could happen to me than people thinking I’m too smart!”

  “Crisis negotiation is crucial in law enforcement!”

  Though she was well aware of this, Batgirl took copious notes. Forensics, Law Enforcement, and You was one of her hardest classes—mostly because of the teacher.

  “One must employ the following: active listening, empathy, rapport, and influence, all leading to behavioral change,” Commissioner Gordon said, writing the points on the whiteboard. “Who can give me examples of these?”

  Batgirl and Big Barda both raised their hands.

  “Yes, Barda,” he said, pointing to her.

  “For example,” Big Barda began, “say there was a villain who was never given a chance to be good. If someone actually listened to her and grew to understand what she was really made of and a bond was formed, he could have a huge impact on her future as a super hero.”

  “Excellent! Excellent, Barda,” Commissioner Gordon said proudly. “Class, you would do well to follow Barda’s lead. This girl really knows what she’s talking about!”

  Big Barda glowed with happiness.

  On the ride home from school, Batgirl turned down the police scanner. “Dad, may I ask you something?”

  He didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Sure, Barbara, what is it?”

  She looked at the buildings rushing past them. “How come you never call on me in class? And how come you’re so nice to Barda, but you seem to ignore me?”

  Her father was silent for the next mile. “Barbara,” he began, “Big Barda did not have the life you have. She’s from Apokolips. Do you know what it’s like there?”

  Batgirl nodded. She had seen the videos in Liberty Belle’s class. It was a desolate wasteland of war and the struggle for survival.

  “This girl has had a hard life but is doing everything in her power to turn it around. Barda doesn’t have a family, so I’m doing what I can to make her feel welcome at Super Hero High and to make myself available whenever she needs to talk to someone. I hope you can understand that.”

  Batgirl felt a little guilty for being jealous of her friend, but she just couldn’t help that she was.

  “Sometimes I think you don’t want me to succeed,” Batgirl said flatly.

  “What? No,” Commissioner Gordon said, sounding genuinely surprised.

  “Yes, you do!” Batgirl didn’t like what she heard herself saying, but she couldn’t stop. “All the rules, putting me on probation…I want what Barda wants—to thrive at Super Hero High—but you aren’t helping me at all. I totally understand that Barda needs to be accepted and supported, but, Dad, so do I. Instead of helping me, you’re throwing roadblocks in my way!”

  Commissioner Gordon pulled the car over to the side of the road. “I want you to succeed, Barbara,” he said. “But I also want you safe. I want you to use your brains to find a place for yourself in this world. I want you to avoid all the bad stuff that fills so much of my life and the lives of the super heroes. I want so much for you, can’t you see?”

  Batgirl was seething, but she kept her cool. There was so much her father wanted for her. Yet he never listened to what she wanted for herself.

  The silence continued that night and through the week. Though they intersected in his class and during awkward dinners at home, it was as if Batgirl and her father lived separate lives. That made it easier to find excuses to study late on campus and sometimes crash with her bestie.

  But over the next few weeks, her father seemed to recognize her need to study on campus and begrudgingly set her curfew back a few hours for late-night study sessions. And when she casually mentioned that it might be safer if she spent the night surrounded by the most powerful teens in the world rather than heading home so late, he started allowing her to stay the night.

  “Thank you for letting me sleep in your room,” Batgirl said to Supergirl one such night. She loved how cozy her BFF’s room was, with the homemade quilt from her aunt Martha and the hand-carved Supergirl plaque from her uncle Jonathan.

  “I like it when you’re here,” Supergirl told her as she raced around cleaning up, super-speed style. “I wish we could be roommates.” She paused, then added, “I get lonely at night.”

  “I’d like that, too,” Batgirl said. Batty was a terrific listener, but it was nice to have a two-way conversation.

  With so much homework and so many tests, plus the TechTalkTV show looming, Batgirl was spending more and more time at school. She had started eating dinner in the dining hall, which led to attending group study sessions. Granted, they often turned into gab-fests with Bumblebee bringing honey crunch cookies and Poison Ivy offering everyone crisp apples from the school greenhouse. Inevitably, Harley would start cracking everyone up with her wacky Would You Rather? questions—a new segment on Harley’s Quinntessentials.

  “Would you rather fight an army of killer ants for an hour or walk around with five giant zits on your face for a week?” she asked, videoing everyone’s response.

  “Ants!” Wonder Woman said, smiling.

  “Zits,” Miss Martian said before disappearing.

  “Ants!” said Big Barda.

  “Zits!” Beast Boy said. “Ants are my friends.”

  “Ants, of course,” Star Sapphire said, as if it were a dumb question.

  Wonder Woman was a natural on camera. And so was Beast Boy. Bumblebee had a charismatic presence. Poison Ivy and Miss Martian made themselves scarce when the red video recording light was on. Batgirl wanted to avoid the camera, too—

  “But you can’t,” Harley advised. “With TechTalkTV coming up, you need to be telegenic. The more the cameras love you, the better chance you have of winning.”

  “I thought the competition was all about my brain,” Batgirl said. She had never seen Harley without her camera and wondered if she slept with it.

  “Smarts, sweet tarts,” Harley said, doing a backflip. “Yes, it’s about how smart you are, but if the audience and judges don’t like you, they won’t vote for you. And if they don’t vote for you, you don’t win.”

  Is that true? Batgirl wondered.

  “And in conclusion,” Mr. Fox announced, “the upcoming Weaponomics student demonstration will commence in two weeks. I am expecting great things from all of you.” He was looking directly at Batgirl.

  Back in her Bat-Bunker, Batgirl set about creating new gadgets. The new and improved Batarang was coming along fine. Using the aerodynamic technology NASA employed, it worked like a boomerang, only better. Batgirl had the ability to loop around and change direction midflight, slice through cables and
cars, and more. Still, her grappling equipment could use longer titanium wires, and she was experimenting with ones that were elasticized. Plus, her other tools and weapons, though impressive, could be even more so.

  “Kick me harder!” Katana ordered Batgirl as she stood in the shade of the majestic maple tree. It had been just a sapling a day earlier, and then Poison Ivy worked her powers and botanical knowledge on it. Now it boasted leaves the size of pizza slices.

  As Batgirl charged her at full speed, Katana yawned. “Don’t be afraid to be strong,” she reminded her. “Or to hurt or get hurt. It’s all part of the plan.”

  Batgirl gritted her teeth and focused. As she sped toward Katana, gaining speed with each step, Batgirl leapt up and kicked hard. Katana brushed a bright orange leaf off her shoulder, then glanced up at the foot inches away from her head. She reached out with one hand, grabbed Batgirl’s boot, and brought her friend crashing to the ground.

  “You’re getting better,” Katana said, looking happy. Batgirl got up and nodded. When Katana did martial arts, she looked so graceful, like a ballerina—a really lethal ballerina. But when Batgirl tried the moves, she felt like a klutz. “Let’s move on to weapons.” Katana unsheathed the sword she always wore at her side.

  Batgirl reached into her Utility Belt and whipped out a small metal cylinder.

  “Is that it?” Katana asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Batgirl smiled and pressed a button. The cylinder shot a yellow glowing ball into the air. It hit one of the clouds, leaving a large hole in it.

  “That’s more like it,” Katana said approvingly as sunshine poured through the hole.

  “You’re doing great!” Supergirl exclaimed as they ducked and dodged the bullets, arrows, and other projectiles that hurtled their way. “Katana is a tough coach. For swords and hand-to-hand combat, she’s the best.”

  Batgirl agreed but was too exhausted, mentally and physically, to respond.

  “You’re going to ace Fox’s Weaponomics demonstration,” Supergirl continued. “No one’s better than you at creating new weapons. You’re number one!”

  Batgirl appreciated her best friend’s enthusiasm but wished she would dial it down. It only put more pressure on her to succeed. And seriously, how could she, at this super-powered school? Being a super hero seemed to come naturally to almost everyone else. They were born with powers, or developed special skills at a young age. Her peers had been nurtured at super hero preschools, then super hero elementary and middle schools. Conversely, Batgirl was a latecomer and had to make up for a lot of lost time.

  “It’s not an issue,” Bumblebee said. She was flying alongside Batgirl as the two participated in Team Clean, a new initiative Waller had instituted where Supers teamed up to pick up trash and talk, getting to know each other while doing something good for the school. Pairs of Supers roamed the school cleaning up as Parasite supervised. While some, like Supergirl and Poison Ivy, talked nonstop, other teams, like Hawkgirl and Catwoman, and Cyborg and Cheetah, didn’t talk at all.

  “I wasn’t born with superpowers,” Bumblebee was saying.

  They crossed paths with Wonder Woman and The Flash, who were racing around seeing who could gather more garbage. “Slow down!” Wonder Woman cried. “You missed some trash!”

  “No, you slow down,” The Flash called back to her, laughing as she passed him up.

  “You weren’t born with powers?” Batgirl asked Bumblebee, surprised. “But you can fly! You can emit an electromagnetic sting-zap that can stop criminals and disable rockets.”

  “That’s true,” Bumblebee said, growing to her full size. “But those powers came to me just a few years ago, thanks to my bumblebee suit. I wasn’t born with them.”

  “Do you ever feel that being born without powers holds you back?” Batgirl asked.

  “Holds me back?” Bumblebee said. Her laugh was warm and light, like music. “It’s the total opposite! Coming into powers late, attending Super Hero High, it’s all a bonus. Growing up a regular girl gives me insight into how the rest of the world lives. It’s made me a better super hero.”

  Batgirl nodded. She hadn’t thought of that.

  “BREAK!” Waller called out. Everyone relaxed for the moment.

  Big Barda was sitting on a bench alone. She lit up when Katana joined her and gave the former Fury an origami dragon she had just made.

  As Batgirl approached, Barda held up the red paper dragon. “Look!” she said, holding it up as if it were a new jewel-encrusted Mega Rod.

  “Barda, Katana,” Batgirl asked. “What’s your opinion about being a super hero?”

  Cheetah strolled past and said, “Superpowers are not so much what you can do, but a state of mind. And my mind is made up. I was born to be a super hero…so I went out and got me some powers and abilities, and now I’m going to be a super being.”

  Barda didn’t look as convinced. Before she had a chance to speak, Waller’s voice blasted from the school’s loudspeakers.

  “SWITCH!”

  There was a mad scramble as the Supers rushed to find a new partner. Batgirl noticed that Cheetah and Katana were now paired up. That wasn’t going to go well.

  Batgirl and Barda headed toward the vehicle garage. Adam Strange had crashed a rocket into Wonder Woman’s Invisible Jet…which admittedly was difficult to see. And then, instead of cleaning up his mess, he fled the scene and ran right into Vice Principal Grodd. With Adam now sitting in detention, the remains of the crash were still there.

  “Listen, Batgirl,” Barda said as she carried the rocket to the DVL—Damaged Vehicle Lot—and set it down. “I have powers, and I still feel like I don’t belong here. And I certainly don’t feel like a super hero. People won’t let me forget that I’m from Apokolips.”

  “You’re going to be great,” Batgirl assured her. “You know what it’s like to train on enemy soil. But you have the heart of a super hero.”

  Barda pretended she had something in her eye and dabbed at it with a tissue. “I admire you, Batgirl,” she said. “You’re in this not for personal glory, but because you really want to help.”

  “I want to help, too!” Supergirl yelled as she flew overhead, surveying their work.

  “Hi, Batgirl!” Cyborg yelled from the sky as he trailed Supergirl, using his rocket boosters. “Hi, Big Barda!”

  Both waved to them.

  “Thank you for believing in me, Barda,” Batgirl said. She understood why her father had such faith in this former villain. “Let’s agree to rise above our doubts and look forward, not backward.”

  “Agreed!” Big Barda said.

  Batgirl raised her hand for a high five, and Barda hit her so enthusiastically that she went hurtling fifty feet backward.

  “Sorry!” Barda called.

  “I’m not,” Batgirl said as she rubbed her now-aching arm. “I’m glad we had this talk.”

  There was no reason for Batgirl to be nervous. She had been looking forward to Mr. Fox’s demonstration day. Still, this was her first big presentation at Super Hero High, and she wasn’t sure what kind of response she’d get.

  Cyborg went first. There was a large metal compactor in the front of the room, a scaled-down version of the kind used for crushing old cars. Without speaking, Cyborg got into it. He gave Mr. Fox a thumbs-up, and the teacher pressed a red button. Slowly, the massive compactor moved in on Cyborg, threatening to crush him. He raised his arms to his side as Batgirl held her breath. Cyborg closed his eyes tight and gritted his teeth as the machine made grinding noises and he fought against it, pushing metal against metal—finally bringing it to a halt.

  Everyone applauded and Cyborg smiled. He had a nice smile. Cyborg lifted his arm to wave, and wave, and wave. It wasn’t until a minute had passed that Batgirl realized he was malfunctioning and couldn’t stop waving.

  She rushed up to him and expertly adjusted his internal circuitry. His cybernetic arm often gave him problems when he was on overload. “You’ve just expended a lot of energy,” she assured him.
He shrugged sheepishly, as if to say that happens when you’re half machine. “Listen, why don’t you come to the Bat-Bunker later. I’ve got an idea for creating a feedback loop in your power coils that can override this kink in your circuitry.”

  “Thanks,” Cyborg said, looking relieved. “That’s a great idea.”

  Batgirl smiled. “That’s what friends do for each other,” she said.

  “As long as you’re already in the front of the room, why don’t you go next, Batgirl?” Mr. Fox said. “What have you created for us to see?”

  “Nothing,” Batgirl said.

  “Slacker,” Frost whispered to Arrowette.

  “N-nothing?” Mr. Fox stammered. He adjusted his glasses. “I don’t understand. You knew today was demonstration day, correct?”

  “Correct,” Batgirl echoed. “But instead of bringing in some of the B.A.T. weapons I’ve developed, I thought I’d create some new ones on the spot. I plan to show the class how you can use ordinary objects to save the day.”

  Mr. Fox beamed. “Continue,” he said, taking a seat.

  “Who would like to give me something to begin with?” Batgirl asked as she scanned the classroom.

  Cheetah raised her hand. “Use this!” she said, flicking her wrist and tossing a pen to her. It cut through the air with the speed of a bullet, and Batgirl caught it with one hand.

  “Thank you, Cheetah,” she said, shifting the object to her other hand like a magician performing a trick and then throwing it back at her. But when Cheetah caught the pen, it released a plume of black smoke to surround her.

  “I could have used more smoke powder,” Batgirl explained. “But since this is merely a demonstration, I cut it down. Using the right amount could blur a villain’s line of sight or just cause a distraction in a real battle.”

  Fox grinned, and Harley started recording.

  Batgirl successfully set off everyone’s phones as one big ear-shattering sonic disruptor, then turned a water bottle into a missile and transformed Mr. Fox’s pocket watch into a detonator that exploded the water-bottle missile outside in the quad.