I DON’T KNOW HOW THE WARRIORS DO IT. After walking three miles on the Lakefront Trail on the hottest day on earth, I’m sweating like a pig, even with the cooling assist from Lake Michigan. Every inch of my body is a moist, stinky mess, and I hate even thinking the word “moist.” What is the point of wearing moisture-wicking workout gear if you still end up looking like you just crawled out of the world’s most polluted ocean? Heroes don’t have this problem. They could emerge from a burning building, carrying multiple victims on their backs, and barely drip a drop, able to save lives and be camera-ready seconds later. It’s so freaking amazing. I love them so much.
“Claire, are we almost done here?” my best friend, Demi, asks, wrestling a tangled web of dog leashes attached to a pack of five panting pooches. I told her I’d help with her dog-walking business today but didn’t exactly mention how far I planned to go. “I don’t think the dogs can make it much farther in this heat. And honestly my shorts are beyond wedged up my butt.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” I say, watching an English bulldog drool all over the Lakefront Trail and melt under the blazing sun. It’s only the first day of summer break, but Chicago weather can never just ease into a new season. It’s either freezing cold or unbearably hot, with little to no in between. “Just…five more minutes? Please? I really need to make this happen today, or else they might not pick me. And then my life would be over. You don’t want to end my existence, do you?” I bat my lashes, giving an innocent smile.
Demi groans, sitting down as she pulls out yet another water bottle from her custom-designed dog-walking vest to quench the pups’ thirst. She’s a one-stop shop for doggy needs, with treats, poop bags, tennis balls, and more tucked into those meticulously planned pockets. “Ask me again when I’m not responsible for the well-being of all these rich people’s dogs.” From another pocket she grabs cooling towelettes, which she rubs on the dogs’ bellies, much to their delight. I kind of wish she would offer one to me, but I already know I’m pushing my luck. “Why couldn’t you just get a normal internship that doesn’t make you jump through all these hoops? I would’ve hired you full-time this summer.”
“Because normal is boring,” I say, wiping my face with my shirt. “Heroes are never boring, and neither are we.”
She sticks her tongue out at me, and I teasingly mirror the expression. In a world full of superpowers, us nobodies must work extra hard to stay in the game. Not that I’d consider myself a nobody, but I certainly can’t crush concrete with my bare hands or jump ten city blocks in seconds flat. I used to dream I’d wake up one day and suddenly be able to scale walls with suction-cup fingertips or zap opponents with a literally withering stare, but my origin story is sadly void of any supernatural plot twists. The average hero’s powers develop during childhood, and since I’m seventeen, I guess that ship has sailed. I could cry about it (and, okay, I definitely have), but eventually, you have to make the best of the hand you’ve been dealt. It doesn’t mean I’m a nobody. It just means I have to go the extra mile to be somebody.
Which is why I’m out here today, dripping sweat in humid air that’s so thick, it feels like breathing in clam chowder, all to make a lifelong dream come true. Last week I found out I was in the FINALS for a Warrior Nation summer internship, and the interview process has been grueling. Not only did I have to submit a background check and application (complete with six letters of recommendation and three essays on what heroism, service, and community mean to me), but I’ve also undergone countless aptitude tests in logic, problem solving, cognitive ability, and more. While each test has been thrilling, they’ve all been completed remotely, with no in-person assessments or interviews yet. Just seeing official Warrior Nation correspondence in my inbox has been enough to make my heart explode, but I’m ready to take it to the next level.
What at first seemed like an impossible goal is now so close I can taste it, and every bar I clear, every test I ace, brings me that much closer to connecting with the greatest, most amazing organization the world has ever known. I can’t fail now, especially when I’m so close! I may not have super strength, X-ray vision, or any real tangible power like traditional heroes, but if they could just meet me, they’d see what a smart, strong, kick-ass contribution to the team I would be. They’d have to. I JUST KNOW IT.
Warrior Nation is rumored to have a giant headquarters hidden underneath the city, with entrances scattered throughout Chicago so heroes can safely escape into the underground lair that spans the Loop. The final internship round is to try and find one of the secret passageways. Which is no small feat! People have been looking for these entrances for years. In the past couple weeks, I have personally visited each and every theorized entrance, only to turn up empty-handed. And time is running out. But I won’t give up. I won’t!
I take a seat next to Demi, who has successfully managed to keep the pups comfortable. They crowd around her, happily slobbering on her bare chestnut legs like she’s the best human to have ever lived. She definitely has the whole dog-whisperer thing down, which will come in handy, since she wants to be a vet someday. “So, where are you headed, anyway?” she asks, stroking an enthusiastic pug. “Since you hijacked our walk and all.”
“Well, since you’re wondering…” As a golden retriever tail fans my face, I pull out my Warrior Nation guidebook—or grail diary, as I like to call it—to check my notes. “North Avenue Beach.”
My grail diary is absolutely bulging with Post-its and scraps of paper; I can only close it with a leather cord I wrap around the outside. This isn’t some cheap “ultimate fan” hero book written by a novice and sold at Walmart—no, it’s a lifetime-in-the-making collection of Warrior Nation specs, lore, charts, and drawings. Every hero throughout the decades, every fan theory worth its salt, is cataloged in these pages, and I’m going to use them to my benefit. Last night I read on WarriorHunt.usa—one of my favorite WarNat fansites—that there’s a hidden HQ entrance somewhere near the North Avenue boathouse, which is where I’m headed today. I doubt Warrior Nation would place an escape route in such a visible, touristy area, but I have to check it out, just to cross it off my list. I couldn’t live with myself if this DID turn out to be the one rumor that was true.
Demi shakes her head, pulling her locs up into a ponytail. “Nope, too far. I’m almost out of water, and I need to take these dogs home, anyway, since my next walk is starting in forty minutes.”
“How many walks are you doing today?” I ask.
She looks up, mentally reviewing her schedule. “Ten. Fifty dogs total.”
“Fifty?!”
“Yeah. Veterinary school isn’t going to pay for itself.”
I laugh, though I shouldn’t be surprised she’s tripled her dog-walking business now that school’s out. Demi is the most ambitious person I know, myself not included. We’ve been battling it out for valedictorian ever since freshman year, trying to one-up each other by adding on new clubs and academic organizations to lead. It wasn’t until sophomore year, when we were running against each other as president for National Honor Society, that we decided to ditch the rivalry because we’d be more powerful as allies. It was like two supervillains teaming up for ultimate domination, and I loved it. She’s been my best friend ever since, even if she is currently in the lead for valedictorian by one-tenth of a point. Don’t worry, there’s still all of senior year for me to beat her.