Emma was more that your typical high school teen. By day
she appeared to be an average teenage girl, but by night — she
dressed up in a modified gymnastics suit and fought crime.
Really!
When Emma revealed her secret to her friends, she knew it
was an unbelievable story. And that was just the tip of the ice
cream cone.
Here’s the scoop: Emma was the embodiment of a Muse
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from the ancient days of Greece when the gods and mortals
walked hand and hand. Anyone who studied Greek mythology
knew about the nine Muses, each of whom helped to inspire an
art form. But none knew of the 10th Muse — the inspiration for
justice.
At that moment, however, she, Emma, was methodically
ripping pictures of various boy bands off her locker.
“Is your dream boy getting married?” her friend Dawn
asked.
“No,” Emma explained. “It’s just that on the last day of
school I want to get out of here as soon as that bell rings.”
“You know we still have two weeks,” Dawn said, “and they
include those little things called finals?”
“I know. And I’m sure I’ll be twice as busy as the rest of you
then.”
Dawn knew exactly what she meant. She understood that
Emma’s responsibility as the Muse meant she had to patrol the
city at night, trying to right any wrongs. And somehow, after
doing all that, she still managed to be on Honor Roll.
Dawn was smart too; most of her free time was spent in the
pages of a book. And speaking of reading — Dawn knew a lit-
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T H O M A S J . M I S U R A C A
tle more about comic books than the average high school girl.
She also read and collected many novels, including her favorite
genre: science fiction.
Dawn was not much on the popularity scene, however. A
bridge of freckles crossed the top of her cheekbones and over
her nose. She dressed in darker, unusual clothes and dyed her
red hair lots of colors.
Emma, on the other hand, could have easily played the pop-
ularity game. She had the looks: long, blond hair. Sparking blue
eyes. Plus a warm and welcoming smile. She also had the per-
sonality — she could talk to anyone about anything. But she
wasn’t into “ being popular.” It just never felt like her scene.
“I just can’t wait for this year to be over,” Emma admitted
to her friend.
Dawn was surprised. “But you love school.”
“I do,” said Emma, “but I need a break. A little Emma
Time.”
“Guess we all need a little Emma Time,” Dawn agreed, “but
at least we have the field trip today.”
“And let me tell you how excited I am about that.”
“How excited are you?” their friend Brett shouted from
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down the hall.
To most people at the school, Brett was considered a geek
or a nerd. Probably because of his small stature, thick horn-
rimmed glasses and smarts. But for those who really got to
know him, they saw another side: a funny, sarcastic young man
with a heart of gold.
“Oh good,” Brett said, as he checked out Emma’s empty
locker. “All the boy bands are gone.”
It was a buddy thing: they all shared their lockers with each
other. Whoever had a class closest to one of the three lockers
stashed his/her books there.
“Emma’s getting ready for the last day of school,” Dawn
informed him.
“She’s a little early, isn’t she?” said Brett.
“I think she’s trying to be prepared for a change.”
“Our Emma?” Brett sounded surprised.
“Why are my friends talking about me as if I wasn’t here?”
said Emma.
But before they could answer, their attention was drawn to
the end of the hall as the doors burst open and Grayson Bishop
swaggered in.
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T H O M A S J . M I S U R A C A
He was never one for a quiet entrance.
Grayson was the most arrogant guy in school. He was cap-
tain of the wrestling team and one of the best football players in
school. He was perfect in everything — just ask him — and he
wouldn’t let you forget it. It also didn’t help that his parents
were rich socialites, who spoiled him like crazy.
At one time, all the other jocks of the school would gather
around him as if he were king. But after certain events earlier
that year, most of them now kept their distance. They were
thrilled to play sports with him, but nobody wanted to be his pal
anymore.
But Grayson didn’t notice. He assumed all the guys wanted
to be his friend and all the girls wanted to go out with him.
These days, most of the students just wanted him as a casual
acquaintance.
Grayson was a good-looking guy. His deep brown eyes
highlighted his boyish face. His slick black hair had a streak of
white in the front, a trademark since he was born. He had a
wrestler’s build: a large, muscular upper body and firm legs.
To top it off, he always wore the latest, most expensive
clothes. And on his right hand, his high school ring glistened in
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the sunlight, his own personal icon as the school’s pride and joy.
“Don’t