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Snow flurries drifted down like specks of paper from the ice blue sky. The citizens of Destiny City were bundled up in layers, all red cheeks and mouth hidden by scarfs. Maggie was no different, mostly. Despite the chill in the crisp air, Maggie's fingers were bare -- and busily thwacking away at the phone in her hands.



Her muscle memory had her thumbs clicking send before her brain registered it. Twitter was like oxygen to Maggie. Breathe in tweets, breathe out more tweets. It was a calling.

After one year of being away from the city with her father and his boyfriend, Maggie Lawrence had finally returned. Her mother, Cynthia the Lawyer (caps, fo sho), was still hesitant for her daughter to be back in the city that had sent her to the hospital, but at her core, she was a lawyer. She wouldn't be able to get a job like the one she had somewhere else. Plus, with so much crime? Maggie's mother was NEVER hard up for work. Not to mention the fact that Maggie's stepfather, Rick, owned a local business in DC.

It was that particular business that Maggie was headed too on that blustery mid-morning. "It'll be good for you," her mother had said over breakfast. "Go spend time with Rick. Plus, you will be 15 soon. Maybe a little part-time job is in order."

So Maggie had set out to The Book Grind -- a coffee shop with a lending library in the back for its visiting patrons.

The door opened with a jingle of bells. Her stepdad glanced up. "Calm yourselves, mortals!" she said to the half-full room. "I have arrived." With a dramatic bow, Maggie strutted over to the counter and hopped up on a bar stool.

"I'll take a skim latte, good sir," she said, batting her eyelashes at her stepfather.

Rick raised an eyebrow at her. "You'll take a hot cocoa and love it," he said, pinching her on the elbow. "You get one drink, and then I need you reorganizing the library. Some joker keeps stashing copies of his book. It's called Love Over Easy or something like that. I'd like all but one removed."

Maggie gave him a mock salute, and then immediately dropped her eyes to her phone and her the love of her life: Twitter.



When she glanced back up, Rick was sliding hot cocoa in a ceramic mug toward her. "You know, I had hoped that a year in beautiful California would have made you appreciate something, you know, natural. Like something you don't find on the screen of an iPhone." He tapped a nail on her phone.

Maggie pulled it away protectively. "Hey, hey, mister, easy on the goods," she said. "Don't you know? The internet has EVERYTHING." To prove it, she googled "nature" and began flipped through the photos in Rick's face. He shook his head and then quickly dismissed himself as another customer entered the story.

As per usual, Maggie went back to her phone, taking a sip off of the hot cocoa.

The phone at the bar rang, and Rick stepped over to answer it. He left Nancy, a university student working part-time, to help the next customer through the door. Meanwhile, Maggie was ever-so-busy seething over photos of Harry Styles with his rumored model girlfriend Cara Delevingne. Her nose wrinkled at an adorable photo of the pair strolling through some street in London looking fabulously grungy, eyes settling on the model's trademark thick eyebrows. Absentmindedly, Maggie trailed a purple-painted nail over her secretly-tweezed eyebrows. She had to be careful. If she went too extreme, Rick and Cynthia would have to say something, as opposed to pretending they didn't notice (which they currently did quite well).

She flipped over to Twitter.



The stool next to her squeaked, and Maggie bristled, eyes flickering over to the guy who had taken the seat. He was cute, she thought to herself, and... familiar? In a flash, a memory invaded Maggie's mind -- her 11-year-old self cuddled up on the couch, babbling about how much she loved The Football to her sixth grade babysitter.

And here he was.

Brodie-Freakin'-Jackson: The Love of Her Life

Well, one of the loves. Granted, she had actually met this one in person before so he had a certain edge on the other guys. Maggie had spent the two sweet, sweet years that he had been her babysitter once a week for her parents' date night basically writing wedding vows in her head. That had been two years ago, right before she entered the 7th grade and was able to watch herself at night.

And here he was. In the flesh. Fleshier, really. He was older, but so was she And now that she had hit puberty, Maggie was certain that her burgeoning female physique, knowledge of romantic comedies, and general charm would absolutely secure her an older boyfriend.

But how to approach?

Maggie realized suddenly she had been staring a bit long and overreacted, looking quickly back to her phone as if she had just been shocked. She straightened up, adopting a more Adult Posture, and with an incredibly obvious "casual" glance, stared over at Brodie and let out a little gasp.

"Brodie? Brodie Jackson?" she said, voice squeaky with the false-genuineness of her surprise. "Is that you? It's me -- Magg-- Margaret." Yes, Margaret. Margaret was the name of an adult. Maggie was a little girl's nickname.

She smiled. ALL CHARM, BABY.

Maggie did her best Adult Lady Smile as recognition slowly dawned on Brodie's face like a rising sun. When he wrapped her up in a bear hug, she let out a nervous giggle, praying that the pounding of her heart was not cartoonishly slamming into his chest. "Good to see you," she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

The noogie, however, was not appreciated.

Slipping from him, Maggie wrinkled her nose, smoothing the scattered hair back into place. She had meticulously straightened the waves from it before leaving the Book Grind. She even suffered a few burns! Her appearance had become even more important now that she was back in town. In her mind, she imagined everyone who ran into her going back to their mutual friends to exclaim: "You'll never believe who I saw: Maggie Lawrence! And let me tell you -- she looked great." There was no room for noogies here.

Brodie, however, could always stay. "Yeah, I went to California with my dad and Tyrell for a year. San Francisco." She paused. "Great culture there, you know? Such a nice environment for a burgeoning... lady." That sounded slick, right? RIGHT?

"Anyway, the company that hired Tyrell lost funding or something so we came back here. I go to HITS now." Pause. "High school and everything." Pause. "Time flies when you mature!"

For all the charm she might be capable of at her best, Maggie was certainly not running her A-game right now. The truth was that she had many diary entries dedicated to Brodie and the life she was certain they would lead together. Seeing him after 2 or 3 years was a bit overwhelming. He was actually cuter than she remembered, or maybe that was puberty talking.

The mug scraped across the table as she pulled it into her hand. "So, what are you up to now?"

Maggie only cared about Brodie's athletics and charm. It was the stuff girlish crushes were made of. "I feel practically 20," she said, a nervous giggle rattling out of her. That meant she was old enough to date, right? RIGHT? Her fingers rattled on her cup for a moment, but she thought she hid it well.

While Brodie babbled on about football, Maggie leaned forward, inching closer and closer until she could have canted her head to one side and had it resting on his shoulder. She interjected things like: "Oh, that sounds so exciting!" and "You must be very good!" and "What's the locker room like?" Meanwhile, she imagined things like her hanging off his arm after his latest Super Bowl victory, the lavish mansion they would live in together, and the reality television deal they were sure to get.

Her stepfather, Rick, loomed not too far away, casting a glance up at her every so often and then shaking his head with a warm smile. After a moment, he approached the pair. "Well, Brodie Jackson, hey," he said, offering a manly-man handshake to his stepdaughter's former babysitter. "Looks like you've found better ways to spend your time than hanging around this munchkin, eh? I saw that story they did on the team in the paper. Play-offs were intense, it seems."

Maggie shot Rick a death glare so fiery that the room seemed to rise several degrees.

With a light laugh, Rick ignored Maggie and turned back to Brodie. "Hey, Brodie, you wouldn't mind doing me a favor for old time's sake, would you? I was going to take Maggie home, but the manager is running a bit behind so I can't get away yet. Normally I'd let her go back alone, but someone just radioed in that there were a bunch of cop cars a few streets over. Some DC nonsense going on, you know. Anyway, would it be too much trouble to get her to a cab a couple streets over, or even take her back to our place if it's on your way?"

Straightening up, Maggie cleared her throat. "Rick, it's not even noon," she said, trying to eye-talk him into submission. "Plus, wasn't I going to help you around here?"

As if on cue, a siren went flying by the coffee shop. "No, kid, not today," he said. "I'd like you back in the suburbs away from this mess. Truth be told, a part of me will never feel 100% safe about you being here, not while the City is like this." Another siren flew by. It was no secret that Rick worried about her. He had been one of the major forces insisting she went to California to stay safe.

How was he to know that Maggie was one of the city's crimefighters?