Bumblebee at Super Hero High

by Lisa Yee

  “Thank you, Bumblebee,” Liberty Belle said, giving her a knowing look, “…and Beast Boy.”

  * * *

  “We make a great team, don’t you think?” Beast Boy was trying to keep up with Bumblebee, who was walking faster and faster to get away from his annoying presence. Finally, she shrank to the size of a bee and began to fly. Undaunted, Beast Boy turned into a hummingbird and flew alongside her.

  “I can’t talk now,” she said, brushing him aside. “I have to go to Principal Waller’s office.”

  “In trouble again?” he joked. Everyone knew that Bumblebee never got in trouble. If anything, teachers were always holding her up as an example of a good student, which made some kids jealous.

  “You coming or not?” Bumblebee asked innocently as she turned full-sized and opened the door. She knew that Beast Boy dreaded walking into the principal’s office, having been sent there way too many times.

  “Or not!” he answered, turning into a small green gecko and scurrying away.

  When Bumblebee walked into the administration office, she noted the huge pile of mail on the counter. From the principal’s office off to the side, Amanda Waller looked up and said, “Close my door, please.” She covered the phone with her hand. “I need some privacy.”

  Bumblebee shut the door and began sorting the mail. It was her job to answer questions, deliver messages, and assist the principal. There were other office aides, one student per class period. But Waller often saved the more complicated or confidential work for Bumblebee.

  Though the door was shut, Bumblebee could still hear Amanda Waller’s booming voice. Always an imposing presence, the principal was famous for her strict no-nonsense approach to leadership, her stern demeanor, and her steadfast allegiance to her students. The Supers were loyal to her, as well. They knew that Super Hero High students were selected not based on who they were today, but, as their principal always said, “on who they could become tomorrow.” She gave everyone a chance to prove themselves—Bumblebee included.

  “Natural disasters…” Bumblebee couldn’t help but overhear Waller talking. “An increasing number…”

  * * *

  That weekend, there was a surprise for everyone. Supergirl led her friends to the outskirts of Super Hero High to Poison Ivy’s cornfield, where she had whimsically arranged the rows of corn so that they formed an incredible maze. As the Supers merrily weaved in and out of the tall green stalks, Supergirl could be heard reminding her very competitive friends, “No fair flying. Everyone needs to stay on the ground!”

  Bumblebee explained to Barda as they ran, “A lot of the grain crops, like corn, wheat, and rice, rely on the wind or are self-pollinating. Insects and birds also help pollinate, but bees are the most famous for it.”

  “Hurry!” Poison Ivy called out at the end of the maze. “There’s more.”

  As everyone gathered around, Supergirl said, “You’re all invited to my Aunt Martha and Uncle Jonathan’s farm for a big feast. But first, this!”

  Supergirl took flight and, using her heat vision, ignited the cornstalks and their husks, which wrapped around rich yellow kernels of corn. Cheers erupted as it began to rain…popcorn!

  Cheetah and Frost helped Poison Ivy pass out hundreds of paper bags with the Super Hero High logo on them, and everyone began filling them up. Then the Supers delivered them to citizens in Metropolis’s Centennial Park, residents at Fountain of Youth senior citizens’ home, and guests at the First Annual Foodie Fair. And when they were done, there was plenty left over for them.

  Batgirl added Parmesan cheese to her popcorn, Cheetah sprinkled shredded coconut on hers, and Bumblebee poured honey over hers.

  * * *

  That evening, several Supers headed to Smallville, where they gathered at the Kent family farm. When Supergirl had first come to Earth after her home planet had been destroyed, Martha and Jonathan Kent had taken her in. Now that she was at Super Hero High, the Kents loved nothing more than to have her come to the farm and bring her friends.

  As always, there was a home-cooked feast—crispy golden fried chicken, a colorful medley of roasted vegetables, three kinds of salads, mashed potatoes, and plenty of BBQ. The Supers appreciated this, since their families were often far away, sometimes even on other planets, busy working as super heroes themselves. Sadly, in some cases, there were teens without parents. They were casualties in the battle against evil.

  After dinner, Katana used her mighty sword to split wood for a bonfire. “Three…two…one…,” the Supers shouted in unison. “NOW!”

  With that, using her heat vision, Supergirl lit the woodpile up in flames. After the cheers, the Supers gathered around, roasting marshmallows and making s’mores with graham crackers dusted with cinnamon sugar and thick bars of chocolate.

  “I had planned on serving home-baked peach pies,” Aunt Martha said. She wiped her hands on her apron as she admired the crackling bonfire. “But for some reason, our peach crop didn’t come in as well as we had hoped this year.”

  “The meal was wonderful, thank you,” Bumblebee said. Her stomach hurt a bit from eating so much, but it was worth it. “I’m sure the peach pie would have been great, too. But I’m just happy to be here.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Aunt Martha. “The peaches—it’s the darnedest thing. Usually they come in juicy and ripe and incredibly sweet. But this year…Oh well. I’m sure there’s a good explanation for it….”

  Taking a break between classes was one of Bumblebee’s favorite parts of the day. And to the young hero’s way of thinking, any time was a good time for a honey break!

  Katana was already seated and slicing lemons—occasionally cutting some into pleasing shapes. “And now for a sunflower,” she said while Poison Ivy looked on approvingly. Everyone loved how Katana could use her swords to battle the most vicious villains and to add that little extra oomph to tea time.

  Wonder Woman was pouring each of her friends a cup of hot tea. She took a deep breath as steam lifted the delicate scent to her nose.

  Bumblebee looked at her cup. Something was missing. She rummaged around in her backpack and pulled out a bottle that gave off a warm golden glow. It was shaped like the super-villain Granny Goodness, and the eyes on the bottle bugged out a little every time she squeezed it.

  Supergirl raised an eyebrow. “I thought we’d seen the last of her,” she said, recalling the battle between the Supers and Granny’s army of Female Furies.

  Bumblebee laughed. “This is from one of my fans—you know, the Honey Bees.”

  Batgirl nodded. “Thought so,” she said. “They’re always sending you honey! You’re so lucky. My fan club usually sends me computer problems they want me to fix.”

  “Can I see that?” Big Barda reached for the Granny Goodness honey. She squeezed it hard, emptying all the honey into her tea so that the cup overflowed. “That’s more like it,” she said.

  Laughter rang out. Everyone knew that the evil Granny Goodness was Barda’s former mentor. Giving her a squeeze must have been like sweet revenge for Barda.

  “Here, have more!” Bumblebee said, tossing Barda another Granny Goodness–shaped honey bottle. “There’s lots more where that came from.”

  * * *

  Mr. and Ms. Andrena-Beecher had been checking in with their daughter on a regular basis from their relative’s house. “We saw you on Harley’s Quinntessentials,” her father said proudly. “That Harley sure has a lot of energy.”

  Bumblebee had recently been featured on Harley Quinn’s web channel. Since her battery pack was having problems holding a charge, Bumblebee had been walking, instead of flying, to Capes & Cowls Café. That was when Scooter, a little boy, had run up to her. “Save Rainbow!” he had cried, pointing up.

  Perched lazily on a top branch of a nearby tree was Rainbow the cat. Famous for getting stuck up trees, she now had her own popular segment,
“Save Rainbow!”

  “I’m not sure Rainbow wants to be saved,” Bumblebee said.

  “Save Rainbow!” Scooter said tearfully. “It’s time for her lunch.”

  Reluctantly, Bumblebee got bee-sized and flew up to the wayward cat, knowing that when she was that small, she had a better chance of getting Rainbow to get down on her own.

  “Hi, kitty,” Bumblebee said. “What’s up?”

  Rainbow looked bored and meowed. Lazily, she swatted at a bee slowly buzzing by. Noticing more bees Bumblebee nodded to Rainbow. “Hey, bee pals!” she called out. “How’s it going?”

  To her surprise, not only did the bees ignore her, but they also seemed lethargic. A few even appeared to fall asleep mid-flight and dropped to the ground.

  “Hey, I gotta go check on them,” Bumblebee said to Rainbow. “You need to get down on your own. I’m not going to carry you. You can do it.”

  Rainbow didn’t understand her, or at least was pretending not to. “Scooter’s waiting for you, and he’s upset,” Bumblebee explained. “He’s got your lunch.” She paused, then added, “But if you don’t want it, I’m sure he can find another cat who does.”

  Rainbow flattened her ears in surprise, then scrambled down the tree.

  As Harley had interviewed a tearfully happy Scooter, who was clutching Rainbow, Bumblebee had flown to the beehive. Normally busy and buzzing, it had been strangely silent. The bees on the ground had still been alive, but it was as if they were in a deep sleep. She hadn’t known what to make of it.

  “Save Rainbow!” her father yelled over the phone, bringing her back to the present.

  “We love seeing you on Harley’s Quinntessentials and FaceTalking with you,” her mother added. “So how are things?”

  “Things are fine,” Bumblebee informed them. “I need to finish that upgrade on my battle suit—especially the new battery pack—but it’s hard not having my own lab. How are you two? How’s the house rehab going?”

  “Longer than we’d like,” her mother confessed. “And I don’t want to overstay our welcome at Cousin Keisha’s.”

  “They’re driving each other crazy,” Mr. Andrena-Beecher cut in.

  His wife playfully swatted him. “That’s not true,” she said, laughing. Then she added, “Well, maybe a little.”

  Bumblebee joined in the laughter. She knew what it was like when someone overstayed their welcome. Liberty Belle had decided to extend the natural disaster topic and turn it into a full-fledged project. “You will stay with your original partners,” she had informed the class. Which meant two words that Bumblebee would have rather not had to deal with: Beast Boy.

  “It’s gonna be fun! It’s gonna be great! It’s gonna be Beast Boy and Bumblebee all the way,” he had said as he changed into a mosquito and buzzed around her. Bumblebee had tried to ignore him.

  Now she joked, “I wonder if there’s room at Cousin Keisha’s for Beast Boy.”

  “I thought you liked Beast Boy,” her mother said.

  “He’s okay in small doses,” Bumblebee said, adding, “Very small.”

  * * *

  “Bumblebee!” Principal Waller called out later that afternoon. Instantly, Bumblebee was in her office. “Please tell Coach Wildcat that I want everyone to be in peak form,” Waller said.

  “But aren’t we always supposed to be in peak form?” Bumblebee asked. She covered her mouth as the words came out. It was a risk to question the principal.

  Waller narrowed her eyes. Bumblebee tried not to tremble. She had faced down villains, fought in epic battles, and endured physical hardships, but all paled against the stern look that Amanda Waller was capable of.

  “You’re right,” the principal said, nodding. “Tell Wildcat I want everyone in peak form—and by peak, I mean higher than the top of the Himalayas.”

  Bumblebee exhaled. “Will do, Principal Waller,” she said, practically singing. She was so relieved. “I’m on it.”

  Coach Wildcat adjusted his baseball cap as he glared at his students. Many had just finished running twenty miles, doing one hundred one-finger pushups, and lifting cars.

  “Who here thinks they are in great shape?” he asked.

  Wonder Woman raised her hand.

  He nodded to her, then continued. “Well, we can always be better,” he said. When no one responded, he yelled, “Am I right, or am I right?”

  “You are right!” the class yelled back in unison.

  Bumblebee was always striving to do better. She was keenly aware that she was not as naturally strong as Supergirl, or as adept at aiming her sonic blasts as Arrowette was at aiming her arrows, or nearly as fast as The Flash. But when she wore her battle suit, Bumblebee’s reflexes, speed, and strength were greatly enhanced. Plus, it gave her the power of flight, the ability to emit sonic blasts, and, most importantly, the ability to shrink to the size of a bee.

  “Bigger is not always better,” her mother used to say. Lately, though, Bumblebee had noticed that her strength and stamina had been waning. If only she still had her backup suit. But all was lost when the Bee Tree Lab fell.

  Bumblebee watched her fellow Supers exerting their strength, battling each other, and testing their limits. Normally, she wouldn’t have hesitated to join in. But today, she could feel her battery draining. Who was she without her super suit? Bumblebee began to wonder. Oh, sure, there were several Supers at Super Hero High who weren’t born with powers but who acquired them along the way, or who had rings or weapons that gave them their enhanced abilities. And there were others who were just, well, super no matter what, like Cheetah. Bumblebee had always admired her strength and confidence. Cheetah never seemed to doubt herself—and that alone seemed like a superpower.

  When Bumblebee turned the corner, there were a few students gathered around the community bulletin board. On it were flyers for clubs—AT THE KNITTING AND HITTING CLUB YOU CAN DO BOTH…AT THE SAME TIME! —and flyers for volunteer opportunities—NEEDED: FOUR SUPERS TO ASSIST IN CLEANING THE OCEAN. SWIMMERS AND FLYERS PREFERRED, BUT ALL WELCOME—and flyers for things gone missing—LOST: ONE TUBE OF DARK RED LIPSTICK. IF FOUND, SEE RAVEN. BIG REWARD.

  Bumblebee was about to turn away when something caught her eye. It was a nondescript flyer that read HAVING AN IDENTITY CRISIS? QUESTIONING YOUR LIFE? FEEL LIKE AN IMPOSTER? SIGN UP TO SEE DR. ARKHAM TODAY!

  “Ah, Ms. Bumblebee!” Dr. Arkham called out. “Come in, come in! Do you have an extremely important and confidential missive for me from Amanda Waller?”

  Bumblebee entered the school counselor’s office. She didn’t spend much time here aside from delivering messages from Principal Waller, or for her annual assessment. All Supers had to have one. It was imperative that they be not only physically fit but mentally fit. Being a super hero was no easy job.

  “Not this time,” she said, sounding apologetic. “I have an eight-thirty appointment.” Bumblebee wished she had something more important than her worries to bring to Dr. Arkham this early in the morning.

  As she looked around the room, she noticed that he had a fireplace mantel but no fireplace. On the mantel were framed pictures of Dr. Arkham at various ages, ending up with a recent one showcasing his magnificently bald head, well-groomed beard, and befuddled stare.

  “Do you think I should have smiled more?” Dr. Arkham asked, looking serious.

  “No, oh no,” she assured him. “This picture is terrific just as it is. It looks just like you.”

  “Well, thank you, Bumblebee,” he said, looking pleased. “Now, what are we here to talk about today?”

  It was hard at first. Bumblebee wasn’t like Harley, who spoke before thinking, and she wasn’t like Hawkgirl, who sounded like she had practiced what she was going to say. And she certainly wasn’t like Beast Boy, who just never stopped talking.

  “I saw your flyer, the one about feeling like an imposter,”
Bumblebee began.

  Arkham nodded knowingly. “Ah, yes. The imposter syndrome affects lots of high achievers, and I daresay this school is full of them. People with the syndrome fear that their success may not be warranted, despite evidence to the contrary. They have trouble accepting their accomplishments, dismissing them as luck or timing. They sometimes think they are fooling people into believing that they are something they are not.”

  Dr. Arkham lowered his glasses. “Do you know anyone like this?”

  Bumblebee wondered if he was reading her mind, like Miss Martian. That was exactly how she felt at times.

  “Maybe,” she confessed. “I used to play super hero so much when I was little that now that I’m actually here, I can’t help but think I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. If I were a true super hero, wouldn’t I have been able to save my parents’ house?”

  Bumblebee’s eyes began to water. She reached for a tissue. Dr. Arkham had several boxes scattered all around his office. He was famous for buying cases of tissues whenever they were on sale.

  She went on, “I know that Principal Waller always says we were accepted here not based on who we are today, but who we can become tomorrow, but what if I’m not who everyone thinks I am? What if I’m not really Bumblebee, but just little Karen Andrena-Beecher, pretending to be a super hero?”

  Dr. Arkham nodded. “That’s for you to decide, Bumblebee. The only person in charge of your destiny is you!” He coughed, then confessed, “I read that on a coffee mug.”

  Bumblebee nodded. “So you’re saying that I’m the one to determine my fate. That it’s up to me to make things happen, not just wait around and wait for life to lead me? But that I must be present, and more than that, I need to be accountable for my actions and reactions, and accept my successes as well as my failures?”