Unwell (Matchbox 20), Superman (It’s Not Easy) [Five for Fighting], Boulevard of Broken Dreams (Green Day), and Where Are you Going (Dave Matthews) are songs I used early on to help me inform the character of Davin, and where he is at emotionally and mentally, especially at the beginning of the story. Where Are You Going also applies to Anna and her POV.
All You Wanted (Michelle Branch): Not for a specific scene, but it helped me get into Anna’s POV. Again, the language of “saving” is predominant, as well as curiosity over what Davin’s secret is (ie, where he goes).
Holding Out for A Hero (Joss Stone cover): this is a great song, and I like several of the covers, including Frou Frou (Imogen Heap)’s. But I feel like Joss Stone’s version has more of the sound of a song Anna would listen to.
Hero/Heroine (Boys Like Girls): recommended to me by a friend who was reading through the story. I think it captures a lot of Davin’s attitudes, especially by the end of the book.
Christmas TV (Slow Club): This is for the chapter when Davin comes to Anna on Christmas Eve; though they are not as physically close as the couple in the song, there is already a kind of emotional closeness between them.
My Moon My Man (Feist): for the New Year’s Eve scene, leading up to and including the midnight peck.
Open Your Eyes (Snow Patrol): This is the song I used to write the Homecoming Dance scene.
Fix You (Coldplay): For the scene in the chapel; from Anna’s POV. Though she doesn’t really want to “fix” Davin, she definitely wants to help and heal him.
Wonderwall (Oasis): This is a song that helped me flesh out the climactic scene, with Anna realizing once and for all that Davin is Dark Lightning. Once again, the idea of being “saved” or rescued is prevalent.
Fresh Feeling (Eels): I think this is a good song to capture the way the two of them are feeling about each other at the end.
Book Two Preview:
The Jagged Edge of
Lightning
Chapter Two
It is not so much our friends' help that helps us, as the confidence of their help.
—Epicurus
In some ways, it felt really good to be back at school—back into my routine, and part of a community again. I loved hanging out with Jill Hanschu, my roommate Kim Wheat, and our other friend Laurel Langford. They were my sistahs, as Laurel put it. Yet as much as I loved being around them, there were some geeky aspects of my personality that they did not completely understand. For that, I had to turn to another group of friends.
“I’m actually surprised that Dark Lightning still doesn’t have an archenemy,” I overheard someone from a nearby table say. I looked up from my lunch. Sure enough, at the next table over the Comic Book Club was meeting again. Comprised of a group of guys I’d met my first semester, the Comic Book Club was about more than collecting graphic novels. They regularly debated all kinds of things, from which superhero was ultimately the most powerful, to which video game platform was better. In short, they were geeks; as I am quite a geek myself, they welcomed me in. I’d actually kind of missed their company over the summer, though I did get a few emails from a couple of them. I wondered what they would say if they knew what I did: that Dark Lightning was a student at the very same college they were.
I didn’t join them, since I was already settled and waiting for Laurel to get through the line, but I did listen.
“Yeah,” another guy agreed. I couldn’t think of his name. “I mean, he needs a real challenge.” I rolled my eyes.
“I think that’s a sign in itself,” another voice chimed in. I recognized the speaker—his name was Gregory Rutledge and he was an opinionated CBC member with whom I’d perpetually argued with about Dark Lightning’s virtues. Our ongoing disagreement had started back when Dark Lightning was unnamed, and the media was tentatively calling him Shadowman; the guys in that club had been impressed that I had been the one to come up with the local hero’s new moniker. Of course, they were divided over whether it suited him. Greg, of course, didn’t like it. Then again, he didn’t like anything about DL. “If the guy was really thwarting the plans of evildoers in the city, don’t you think someone would be opposing him?”
“Naw, man, the dude’s a freak of nature. I mean, what do you expect? Some guy in a robot suit shooting laser beams from his eyes?” A guy with spiky black hair—Alan? I couldn’t be sure from the back of his head—shook his head. “We aren’t really living in a comic book.” There were several protests at that, but I pursed my lips in irritation at Greg’s comments.
“What’s wrong?” Laurel sat across from me, blocking further interest in their discussion.
“Nothing,” I replied, shaking myself and smiling a little. “I was just listening to those guys behind you.”
“What were they talking about?” She took a bite of her pasta.
I smiled wryly. “Dark Lightning.”
“Ah.” She grinned back. “Your Hero Love.” “My ridiculous crush, you mean,” I corrected.
“Speaking of ridiculous crushes,” she gave me a significant look over her ice water, “what’s going on with Davin?”
“Nothing,” I sighed. “He still hasn’t called. I saw him the other day, leaving the cafeteria, but he was too far away to catch up with.”
She frowned sympathetically, but brightened when I asked her about her latest crush, Tate. As we finished up our meal, a couple of the comic book club guys spotted me and sauntered over. “Hey, Anna.” Alan Wu and Doug ‘Sputnik’ Cavanaugh grabbed a few of the empty chairs near us, and as I greeted them, I re-introduced Laurel. In case they’d forgotten her name. The guys looked at her, then each other, and nodded.
“So, Laurel. I’ve been meaning to ask: are you by any chance into comic books or superheroes like your friend Anna?” Alan asked.
“I’m afraid not,” Laurel admitted with a laugh. “Despite her attempts to educate me.”
“Darn,” Sputnik sighed.
“Um,” I chuckled, “what’s going on, guys?”
“We’re recruiting,” Alan told me. “Trying to expand the CBC roster.”
“Why?”
“We heard about the administration sponsoring a competition that offers funds to vital Dubsy clubs,” Sputnik told me. “Only, there are a few conditions as to what constitutes a ‘vital club.’”
“Such as?” Even Laurel was interested, though she was probably thinking about her Drama Club.
“For one thing, they’re supposed to be co-ed,” Alan sighed. “And so far, you’re the only girl who’s officially part of the club.”
“Am I official?” I laughed. “I didn’t know that.”
“We’re not big on by-laws and rituals,” Alan explained. “Membership is sort of subjective. Which is why we’ll probably convince a few girlfriends to join. Maybe.”
“So what are the other conditions?” I asked.
“They have to have been a part of the school for at least a decade,” Sputnik said.
My eyebrows shot up. “And the Comic Book Club has?”
“Oh, yeah,” Alan told us. “It’s been around since the sixties, when comic books were really taking off.”
“Also, the club has to host some kind of service project to be eligible,” Sputnik continued. “I’m pretty sure they’re not going to consider our D and D nights as a service to the community, so unless we can pull something else off this semester, we won’t even be in the running.”
“D and D?” Laurel echoed, looking apprehensive. “Dare I ask?”
“Dungeons and Dragons,” Alan and Sputnik chorused.
“So what are you guys going to do?” I looked from one guy to the other. They shrugged.
“We’re still brainstorming that,” Alan said. “Truth is, we’re a little late to the game. The Kolbe Foundation awards their grant every two years, and it usually goes to one of the athletic clubs, or student council. If we really want to make a play for it, we have to be super involved in school activities,
get noticed by the student body and faculty alike. Which kind of goes against all our natural inclinations, so it’s going to be a challenge.”
“Just how good is this prize money?” I asked.
“Ten thousand dollars split between the members, to be used for anything from tuition to club supplies!” Sputnik’s eyes were bright.
“And I’ll bet you’re already measuring your dorm walls for plasma flat screens,” Laurel smiled wryly.
“Hey.” Alan frowned. “Most of us are scraping by here, already on some kind of scholarship. We’re not just trying to get cash to buy better consoles and more video games.”
“Though to be fair, we probably will buy a few games,” Sputnik admitted.
“But we’ll also be able to better furnish our clubhouse,” Alan said firmly.
“You guys have a clubhouse?” That was news to me.
“Of course. Where do you think we hold our vintage Nintendo tournaments and Star Wars marathons?”
“So,” Laurel said slowly, “it’s not really so much of a club about comic books anymore. It’s branched out to include anything geeky.”
“Hey!” Sputnik and I protested.
Alan said smoothly, “At our core, we are still primarily focused on comic books and anything to do with superheroes. We’ve had members attend the midnight premiere of every superhero movie for the past decade. Our clubhouse is decorated with movie props and collectibles, and we are all faithful customers of a local comic book shop. However, yes, in recent years, we have expanded our areas of interest to include other shared activities.”
“Not a bad spiel,” Laurel nodded. “You memorize that?”
“What you need to find a way to do,” I put in, “is spin it so it sounds like a vital and indispensable part of college life. Like, you could say that you discuss relevant pop culture issues.”
Laurel laughed. “Not to be mean, but how exactly are comic books relevant?”
Alan and Sputnik both opened their mouths, but I beat them to it. “Have you ever heard of Superman?” I asked her.
“Of course.”
“How about Batman? Spider-Man? Wolverine? The Hulk?”
“Yeah, sure, I’ve heard of them. I may have even seen part of a movie or two. That doesn’t prove anything.”
“On the contrary,” I replied. “Our post-modern culture reveres these superheroes much like the ancient Greeks revered their pantheon of gods and goddesses. They’re symbolic of the kinds of potential we wish we had, and we hope for. Not just in terms of abilities like flight or strength—we want to be heroic and help people. Make a difference. Save the world. Superheroes embody and encourage that desire.”
Laurel and the guys looked at me in surprise. “You’ve really given this some thought, haven’t you?” she said.
I nodded. Back when I’d first started hanging out with Davin, he had asked me why I loved Dark Lightning and other heroes so much. Put on the spot, I’d stumbled through an adequate explanation, but I’d been mulling it over ever since. There were other reasons, too, but I was still in the process of sorting it all out.
“I’m getting an idea,” Alan said slowly. “I think you’re on to something, Anna. Maybe what we need to do is find a way to show that the CBC isn’t just about reading and watching the adventures of superheroes to help people. We need to show that we’re just as committed to making a difference, right here and now, in reality.”
“Yeah!” Sputnik exclaimed. “But, um, how?”
“You could have a fund raiser,” I suggested, “and use it to benefit some charity that is in line with the CBC’s values.”
Alan nodded. “I’ll look some things up online tonight.”
“But what kind of fund raiser?” Sputnik wondered. “Like, a car wash or something?”
I shook my head. “Car washes are for amateurs. High school groups. We’re the comic book club. It needs to be something creative and unique. You know, like a battle of the bands—but for geeks.”
“Okay,” Alan said decisively, “you’re so coming to our brainstorming meeting.”
I laughed. “Deal. But you guys better bring ideas, too.”
At the first official meeting to decide what the CBC service project should be, only five guys showed up. Alan sighed and apologized to me. “I guess most of the group is a little too laid back for this kind of endeavor,” he said.
I looked at him. “You really want to give up? It’s a lot of money. You could do a lot of good with it.”
Sputnik looked doubtful. “It would take a lot of work to win the Kolbe grant. It’s not that our guys aren’t capable, it’s just that they tend to channel their energy into less noteworthy areas. Though we do have pretty good GPAs, which also is a point of eligibility.”
“See what I’m saying? You guys have a good chance of winning this if you just put in a little extra curricular effort. And I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt your résumés, either.” I looked at the guys. “Let’s not give up just yet. I think if we come up with a killer idea, then we can pitch it to the rest and get them on board.”
“Okay,” Alan drew a deep breath and straightened in his seat. “I’ve been doing a little research, and a little recon. I’ve found out that all the clubs who’ve won in the past have some kind of major karma points on their side. Either they donated tons of money or time to big name charities, or organized and participated in athletic feats to raise money and awareness.”
That set my brain going, but I scribbled my thought down—“game-a-thon”—and kept listening to Alan.
“Also,” he went on, “I discovered there’s a theme every year. Each club tries to incorporate the theme into their fundraisers and banners, and stuff like that.” He paused for dramatic emphasis, and smiled. “This year’s theme is: Everyday Heroes.”
“That’s brilliant!” Sputnik yelled. “Seriously, this is our year. That’s perfect for us! We’re all about heroes!”
“Yeah, but we’re technically all about superheroes,” Chuck pointed out, raising a slender, dark finger for emphasis. “Not everyday ones.”
“Well, that depends on how you define ‘everyday,’” I countered. “Does ‘everyday’ mean ‘ordinary?’ Or does it mean people who act heroically on a daily or almost daily basis?”
Alan looked though his notes. “It doesn’t really specify.”
Sputnik cleared his throat and motioned with his fancy cell phone, on which he’d clearly looked up the definition. “Everyday: common, ordinary, normal.”
I sighed. “Well, I still think we can put our own spin on it. We can highlight how one of the things that makes superhero stories so relatable is the fact that they mostly live very normal lives. That’s what makes them so great—not that they have powers, but how they use them, how they live their lives—every day.”
“Okay,” Chuck agreed. “I’m sold. But how do we portray that? How do we showcase it?”
Alan snapped his fingers. “That’s it! What if we did a showcase? One of the other things I found out is that every eligible club is ‘strongly encouraged’ to enter a float in the homecoming parade. We could all dress up as our favorite superheroes!”
“I call Batman,” Sputnik said swiftly.
I laughed. “I like it. And I’m sure we can think of things to do all semester long.”
“It’s too bad we couldn’t find a way to get Dark Lightning to do some kind of publicity for us,” Alan sighed. “We’re some of his biggest fans. But since we have no way to contact him, there’s no point in wishing for what we can’t have.”
I looked at Alan intently and thoughtfully. “What exactly would you want him to do?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Pose for a photo with us? Do a meet and greet here at the clubhouse? Let us ask him about what he does and how he does it?”
“But none of that would exactly help you in the service project department,” I pointed out.
“But it would be publicity. It would get us some attention.
”
“Dark Lightning’s not exactly an ‘everyday hero,’ either,” Chuck said.
“I disagree,” I retorted. “He is, in fact, the epitome of an everyday hero. He is not a comic book character. He’s real, and he’s helping people right here in town. Even if he does have a speed and strength beyond a normal person, he must still live a normal life the rest of the time. He’s a regular guy…just trying to help,” I went on, recalling Dark Lightning’s own words to me the day he’d saved me. I had a wild and fleeting desire to expound on DL’s virtues but I knew I had to tone it back. They couldn’t suspect that I knew more about him than anyone else or they’d never let it go.
“I think we’re all agreed that Dark Lightning would be a spectacular way to make an impression,” Alan said, “but there’s no way we can talk him into helping us out.”
I made another note. “Let’s come back to that. Maybe we could find a way to communicate with him—put an open letter online or in the paper or something. If we could find a way to contact him, maybe we could convince DL to give away a prize or incentive in some kind of competition. But speaking of competitions, I was thinking about what you said earlier, about the clubs that do marathons for a cause. What if you guys did one, but instead of walking or running, you raised money for every hour you play a video game? You could call it Game-a-Thon, and raise money for something you guys care about.”
Sputnik’s eyes lit up. “Anna, that’s genius! I love it!”
Alan nodded. “That could work. In fact, that could be one of our first projects.”
“Well, let me know what I can do to help,” I said. “I’m not much of a gamer, and I don’t have much money, but I’d be glad to help out with other stuff.”
“I say we reconvene and try to get a few more members,” Alan said, standing. “Then we can pick a few causes to invest in, and outline the activities we can all commit to.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said. “Can we meet in the cafeteria again? It seems most accessible, and I might be able to talk a few friends into joining.”
Tall, Dark Streak of Lightning (The Dark Lightning Trilogy) Page 26
