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laleiaI really, really, really wanted to write a Sky High Mary Sue (Shush -- I was going to be honest about it and name her Mary Sue and everything, and shock everyone by making it seem like she would end up with Warren Peace -- only she doesn't), so these are the different versions of the story that I attempted, or backstory that I arranged.
And yes I wrote all this at work as well.
Version 1:
The only good thing about being part Aerie is never having to take the bus to school. Well, no, it isn’t the only good thing. Being part Aerie could be pretty cool. If you were half, or even quarter, you could pull off some decent flying, a few killer wind attacks, and a lot of neat tricks.
Not if you’re one-sixteenth Aerie, though. That just means you get the pale blonde hair, and the ability to pull off a few breezes. You don’t even get the ice blue eyes that mark most Aerie. And if your father is dark-haired and dark-skinned … well, you just look weird. Kind of sallow, or jaundiced, or something. And the blonde hair can’t even be dyed – it’s part of your heritage, or so it’s magic or something. Did I mention that I hate blonde hair?
The only good thing about being Aerie is that my mom can ask the wind elements to take me to school and back every day – just about the only thing they’ll do for me, and my mom has to ask nicely. I still remember the day I got stuck with Hero Support freshman year. I couldn’t even stir up a noticeable breeze, just enough to budge a feather I’d brought for the express purpose of demonstrating my ability. And it took a lot of pleading with the spirits to get that far – the elementals don’t really approve of me. (I think they think I look weird.)
Then, of course, they abolished the Hero Support system junior year, and split up classes based on type of ability. I was stuck in a class of people who did what I could – but better. I had to struggle three times as hard for half the results. For me, every little bit was an improvement, but it took so much effort to get there. I learned the native language of the elementals, even though it’s not usually necessary, to endear myself to them just that little bit more. It made wheedling favors out of them easier, but it only improved my powers a little – and I’d learned a whole freaking language.
Senior year, I opted not to take the remedial classes. Why try to be something I’m not? Instead, I chose the Real World track, much scorned and despised by most of my classmates, but one I’d pretty much been working up to since they got rid of official “Sidekicks.”
The Real World track is for people who’ve given up on saving the world. It’s not actually the “Real Word” track. It’s a set of Administrative Support class for Seniors, and provides them with all the knowledge they’ll need to get into a normal college, and live a normal life. The idea is implied that you can’t cut it as a hero, but also that you’ll end up doing all the drudge work, sorting through files, figuring out as some sort of secretary which hero should be located where, and what their cover should be. It’s looked down upon, but very important to the survival of superheroes everywhere. It’s what they’d be trying to get us to do, but I had better ideas.
I wasn’t going to waste my life doing unappreciated work. My friends and family knew my plans – to start my own private boarding school that better prepared students for the real world, and provided opportunities for professional degrees. Lofty and odd ambition, I know. But a lot of my friends have impractical powers, and
Version 2:
“Eileen has a crush on Warren,” Rika announced as she dragged Eileen into the cafeteria.
“Rika!” Eileen hissed, obviously embarrassed.
“What else is new?” I asked dryly.
“You knew?” Rika asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought it was a new thing, ever since he helped her pick up her things this morning.”
“Rika, almost every girl in this school has a crush on Warren. He’s a bad boy – except that he’s good. Best of both worlds and all that.”
“Do you have a crush on Warren?”
“Well, I won’t deny that he’s hot,” I chuckled, “but I haven’t exchanged two words with him, ever, since I entered this school, despite the fact that we’re in the same grade and had half the same classes for a year. For all I know, he could have the personality of a half-grown air spirit.”
“I’m glad you think I’m hot, but some of us would appreciate it if the line weren’t moving at a snail’s pace,” a voice growled from behind me.
Rika and Eileen whirled around and kind of gasped. I didn’t even need to look, and definitely would not be able to look him in the face after what I’d just said. Instead … “Half-grown air spirit it is, then,” I said cheerfully and quite audibly, and moved ahead to grab my food.
“Mary Sue, don’t be rude,” Eileen scolded.
I rolled my eyes, grabbed the last of what I intended to eat, and turned to face the infinitely hot but also out-of-my-league and possibly obnoxious prettyboy Warren Peace. “I apologize for casting aspersions on your character,” I said sarcastically. I opened my mouth to say more, then realized that I had essentially run out of witty things to say, and anything else would make me sound stupid.
Instead, I swept a bow and walked off. I could hear Eileen and Rika behind me hastily making apologies and then coming after me.
“Did you have to be so mean?” Eileen demanded when they finally caught up.
“Is she ever not mean when taken by surprise and/or incredibly embarrassed?” Rika asked rhetorically.
“Let’s just get out of here before I make a fool out of myself in front of anyone else,” I said grimly.
“And it wasn’t just Warren,” Eileen continued. “You saw – the whole crowd was there. Will and Layla and the rest. The popular crowd. Now they must all think the worst of you.”
Rika rolled her eyes on my behalf. “Eileen, we’re seniors. If there were ever a popular crowd we were to bow to, and there isn’t, it would most certainly not be a popular crowd comprised of underclassmen.”
“They’re not underclassmen anymore,” I corrected. “But Rika has a point. No matter how popular the new stars may be with the rest of the school, they’re still juniors, Warren excepted. We’re seniors.”
“They’re going to be the new superheros,” Eileen said practically. “The new it couple. Or threesome, I suppose, if you count Warren.”
“A ménage à trois?” Rika asked wryly.
“You’re forgetting the rest of their crew,” I pointed out.
“Now you’re being silly,” Eileen said. “Their powers were all well and good when we were being attacked, but do you think any of them are going to amount to anything in the long run? The hamster-shifter, maybe. That’s it.”
“What, you don’t believe in the overall success of this abolishment of the hero-sidekick dichotomy?” I asked ironically. This was the sore spot with all of us.
By now, we’d reached the tree we usually sat under (only underclassmen actually ate lunch in the cafeteria), and had begun to settle ourselves.
“What’s so bad about it?” an unfamiliar voice asked. The three of us looked around, but saw nobody. Not terribly perturbed, we looked up, and saw a buxom blonde precariously perched on a tree branch. Ivanna, I recalled her name was. She had been in a few of my classes freshman and sophomore year, but her different source of power (mine comes from without, hers from within) and the different nature of our powers (mine was classified as elemental, hers as force-field-driven, if I recalled correctly) meant that I hadn’t had a class with her in a while.
“Oh hey, Ivanna,” Rika said, startled. (It stood to reason she shared classes with Ivanna.)
“Rika. Mary Sue. Eileen,” Ivanna greeted. “So what’s your beef with the Triumvirate?”
“There’s no beef,” I corrected. “Just a… misunderstanding and minor embarrassment.”
“Hey, if you’ve got problems with their new ‘Hero Divisions,’ you’ve got problems with them. And you know it,” Ivanna pointed out.
“It’s not their fault,” Eileen sighed. “Abolishing the hero-sidekick dichotomy as good move, everyone knows that. The old system was absolutely ridiculous and didn’t help anyone improve their powers. But then, the school system operated without any means of division for half a year-”
“Which was ridiculous,” I interjected.
“-and then established a decent power classification division, without any regard to power intensity, or power relevance.”
“And the civilian track was almost completely revamped,” Rika added, “and made much worse. There is currently no way anyone graduating from the civilian track could actually get a job in the civilian workforce.”
“So what it means now is that we have students graduating who have full control of their powers but have no options other than being a hero – which isn’t the best job for everyone,” I concluded.
“You’re in the civ-track, aren’t you?” Ivanna asked, curiously.
“Yes,” I said. “My powers are next-to-useless, and the civ classes serve as good study hall. I’m going to get a G.E.D. rather than rely on a Sky High diploma, maybe claim homeschooling as my education. I’m planning on going to college.”
“On the Sky High Scholars for a Better Tomorrow scholarship,” Rika said dryly.
“So that’s why you’re civ-track,” Ivanna said, as if finally understanding something. “To convince them you’re gonna work as one of their precious bureaucrats.”
“I am going to work as one of their precious bureaucrats,” I said beatifically. “Working for a better tomorrow.”
Ivanna laughed, just as her watch began to beep. She glanced down at it, and her eyes widened. “Shit, I gotta go,” she cast us an apologetic look.
“No problem,” Eileen smiled, her voice just the littlest bit off. “We’ll catch up later.”
“Yes, def,” Ivanna beamed, and then shimmered and was gone.
“Is it just me or was she fishing?” Rika asked nonchalantly.
“Not one of the Spymistress’s more skilled operatives,” Eileen growled.
Eileen despised the Spymistress, even though everyone else tolerated her. This is possibly because Eileen walked in on the Spymistress making out with her (now ex) boyfriend. The Spymistress claimed she had not know he was not single – which was ridiculous, she knew everything – but that even if she had, it wouldn’t have stopped her from swapping spit with him. Sweet, sweet Eileen had been pissed.
As we sat and began eating our lunches, we ran a running commentary on everyone else outside. It was mean, but it was pretty damn fun.
“And here come the golden bunch,” Rika said cheerfully. “Golden Boy Will Stronghold and his Golden Girl, plus sidekicks.”
“Ah, but they’re not called sidekicks anymore,” Eileen said serenely.
“Nope,” I rolled my eyes, “they’re just heroes who won’t get very good jobs after graduation!”
“Ah, but where is the Bad Boy, the only senior of the bunch?” Rika inquired. “One of the Triumvirate is missing, oh noes.”
“He probably decided to skip classes for the rest of day,” I offered.
“He’s probably banging some girl in the broom closet,” Rika proposed.
“Nah, he broke up with Andi yesterday, remember?” I asked. We all did – it had been a very public breakup involving damaged property and earsplitting screams. “More likely he’s jerking off.”
“Mary Sue!” Eileen gasped, shocked. “He’s probably still getting his lunch.”
“Or he got into a tiff with the Golden Boy,” Rika smiled.
“A tiff over the Golden Girl,” I laughed.
“Because they cuckolded the Golden Boy last night,” Rika suggested.
“While under the Golden Boy’s roof,” I finished.
“Oh, you two are incorrigible,” Eileen sighed.
“If we were really incorrigible,” Rika suggested, “we’d be speculating about the Bad Boy and the Golden Boy cuckolding the Golden Girl.”
“I wonder where he is thought – they’re usually inseparable,” I sighed.
“With out luck, probably right behind us,” Rika made a face.
We looked at each other with mounting horror, then turned around. No sign of furious prettyboys ready to barbecue our asses, so I figured we were safe.
“I would never screw Stronghold,” a voice said from above us. “I want to clarify that.”
Version 3:
“Tell the Spymistress that,” Eileen effectively ended the conversation. “Relay to her everything we’ve said – and then leave us alone.” Eileen was not fond of the Spymistress, and even though nobody else minded Ivanna or her like fishing for interesting tidbits for the Spymistress, Eileen hated it.
Ivanna blinked, and then disappeared.
“Neat trick,” Rika whistled. “The Spymistress must have given her some nifty gadgets this time.”
“She’s really gone,” Eileen confirmed. “Do you think she bought it?”
“Hey, everything I said was the honest-to-gods truth.” Rika smirked.
“I hate that woman,” Eileen sighed. “And not just because our powers are antithetical, no matter what the Counselor says.”
Version 4:
It really wasn’t fair, Will thought. Will was the famous hero. Will had the superpowers. Will had singlehandedly saved the school. So why was Warren the one who got laid every night? Why did all the girls and some of the boys have a crush on Warren? Warren was just the best friend.
Version 5:
He met her in a coffeeshop. He’d had a late night, busting a particularly pernicious supervillain while Will and Layla had been on their honeymoon, so he’d pretty much been on his own. He hadn’t called for backup, because it hadn’t been that bad – the battle was long, was all.
So when he was out of uniform, all he wanted was to rest. And it turned out that he powered down right near some little coffeeshop, and the scent of coffee smelled too good to pass up. He’d ordered, sunk into the comfortable armchair, and relaxed for the first time in a long time. And admired the waitress’s form as she sashayed over with his espresso.
“Hey, handsome,” she cooed. “Long day?”
He’d smiled appreciatively, and made a mental note to tip her generously. As she’d sashayed away, however, that’s when he’d noticed the barista hanging up her uniform and leaving for the night, done with her shift.
And yes I wrote all this at work as well.
Version 1:
The only good thing about being part Aerie is never having to take the bus to school. Well, no, it isn’t the only good thing. Being part Aerie could be pretty cool. If you were half, or even quarter, you could pull off some decent flying, a few killer wind attacks, and a lot of neat tricks.
Not if you’re one-sixteenth Aerie, though. That just means you get the pale blonde hair, and the ability to pull off a few breezes. You don’t even get the ice blue eyes that mark most Aerie. And if your father is dark-haired and dark-skinned … well, you just look weird. Kind of sallow, or jaundiced, or something. And the blonde hair can’t even be dyed – it’s part of your heritage, or so it’s magic or something. Did I mention that I hate blonde hair?
The only good thing about being Aerie is that my mom can ask the wind elements to take me to school and back every day – just about the only thing they’ll do for me, and my mom has to ask nicely. I still remember the day I got stuck with Hero Support freshman year. I couldn’t even stir up a noticeable breeze, just enough to budge a feather I’d brought for the express purpose of demonstrating my ability. And it took a lot of pleading with the spirits to get that far – the elementals don’t really approve of me. (I think they think I look weird.)
Then, of course, they abolished the Hero Support system junior year, and split up classes based on type of ability. I was stuck in a class of people who did what I could – but better. I had to struggle three times as hard for half the results. For me, every little bit was an improvement, but it took so much effort to get there. I learned the native language of the elementals, even though it’s not usually necessary, to endear myself to them just that little bit more. It made wheedling favors out of them easier, but it only improved my powers a little – and I’d learned a whole freaking language.
Senior year, I opted not to take the remedial classes. Why try to be something I’m not? Instead, I chose the Real World track, much scorned and despised by most of my classmates, but one I’d pretty much been working up to since they got rid of official “Sidekicks.”
The Real World track is for people who’ve given up on saving the world. It’s not actually the “Real Word” track. It’s a set of Administrative Support class for Seniors, and provides them with all the knowledge they’ll need to get into a normal college, and live a normal life. The idea is implied that you can’t cut it as a hero, but also that you’ll end up doing all the drudge work, sorting through files, figuring out as some sort of secretary which hero should be located where, and what their cover should be. It’s looked down upon, but very important to the survival of superheroes everywhere. It’s what they’d be trying to get us to do, but I had better ideas.
I wasn’t going to waste my life doing unappreciated work. My friends and family knew my plans – to start my own private boarding school that better prepared students for the real world, and provided opportunities for professional degrees. Lofty and odd ambition, I know. But a lot of my friends have impractical powers, and
Version 2:
“Eileen has a crush on Warren,” Rika announced as she dragged Eileen into the cafeteria.
“Rika!” Eileen hissed, obviously embarrassed.
“What else is new?” I asked dryly.
“You knew?” Rika asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought it was a new thing, ever since he helped her pick up her things this morning.”
“Rika, almost every girl in this school has a crush on Warren. He’s a bad boy – except that he’s good. Best of both worlds and all that.”
“Do you have a crush on Warren?”
“Well, I won’t deny that he’s hot,” I chuckled, “but I haven’t exchanged two words with him, ever, since I entered this school, despite the fact that we’re in the same grade and had half the same classes for a year. For all I know, he could have the personality of a half-grown air spirit.”
“I’m glad you think I’m hot, but some of us would appreciate it if the line weren’t moving at a snail’s pace,” a voice growled from behind me.
Rika and Eileen whirled around and kind of gasped. I didn’t even need to look, and definitely would not be able to look him in the face after what I’d just said. Instead … “Half-grown air spirit it is, then,” I said cheerfully and quite audibly, and moved ahead to grab my food.
“Mary Sue, don’t be rude,” Eileen scolded.
I rolled my eyes, grabbed the last of what I intended to eat, and turned to face the infinitely hot but also out-of-my-league and possibly obnoxious prettyboy Warren Peace. “I apologize for casting aspersions on your character,” I said sarcastically. I opened my mouth to say more, then realized that I had essentially run out of witty things to say, and anything else would make me sound stupid.
Instead, I swept a bow and walked off. I could hear Eileen and Rika behind me hastily making apologies and then coming after me.
“Did you have to be so mean?” Eileen demanded when they finally caught up.
“Is she ever not mean when taken by surprise and/or incredibly embarrassed?” Rika asked rhetorically.
“Let’s just get out of here before I make a fool out of myself in front of anyone else,” I said grimly.
“And it wasn’t just Warren,” Eileen continued. “You saw – the whole crowd was there. Will and Layla and the rest. The popular crowd. Now they must all think the worst of you.”
Rika rolled her eyes on my behalf. “Eileen, we’re seniors. If there were ever a popular crowd we were to bow to, and there isn’t, it would most certainly not be a popular crowd comprised of underclassmen.”
“They’re not underclassmen anymore,” I corrected. “But Rika has a point. No matter how popular the new stars may be with the rest of the school, they’re still juniors, Warren excepted. We’re seniors.”
“They’re going to be the new superheros,” Eileen said practically. “The new it couple. Or threesome, I suppose, if you count Warren.”
“A ménage à trois?” Rika asked wryly.
“You’re forgetting the rest of their crew,” I pointed out.
“Now you’re being silly,” Eileen said. “Their powers were all well and good when we were being attacked, but do you think any of them are going to amount to anything in the long run? The hamster-shifter, maybe. That’s it.”
“What, you don’t believe in the overall success of this abolishment of the hero-sidekick dichotomy?” I asked ironically. This was the sore spot with all of us.
By now, we’d reached the tree we usually sat under (only underclassmen actually ate lunch in the cafeteria), and had begun to settle ourselves.
“What’s so bad about it?” an unfamiliar voice asked. The three of us looked around, but saw nobody. Not terribly perturbed, we looked up, and saw a buxom blonde precariously perched on a tree branch. Ivanna, I recalled her name was. She had been in a few of my classes freshman and sophomore year, but her different source of power (mine comes from without, hers from within) and the different nature of our powers (mine was classified as elemental, hers as force-field-driven, if I recalled correctly) meant that I hadn’t had a class with her in a while.
“Oh hey, Ivanna,” Rika said, startled. (It stood to reason she shared classes with Ivanna.)
“Rika. Mary Sue. Eileen,” Ivanna greeted. “So what’s your beef with the Triumvirate?”
“There’s no beef,” I corrected. “Just a… misunderstanding and minor embarrassment.”
“Hey, if you’ve got problems with their new ‘Hero Divisions,’ you’ve got problems with them. And you know it,” Ivanna pointed out.
“It’s not their fault,” Eileen sighed. “Abolishing the hero-sidekick dichotomy as good move, everyone knows that. The old system was absolutely ridiculous and didn’t help anyone improve their powers. But then, the school system operated without any means of division for half a year-”
“Which was ridiculous,” I interjected.
“-and then established a decent power classification division, without any regard to power intensity, or power relevance.”
“And the civilian track was almost completely revamped,” Rika added, “and made much worse. There is currently no way anyone graduating from the civilian track could actually get a job in the civilian workforce.”
“So what it means now is that we have students graduating who have full control of their powers but have no options other than being a hero – which isn’t the best job for everyone,” I concluded.
“You’re in the civ-track, aren’t you?” Ivanna asked, curiously.
“Yes,” I said. “My powers are next-to-useless, and the civ classes serve as good study hall. I’m going to get a G.E.D. rather than rely on a Sky High diploma, maybe claim homeschooling as my education. I’m planning on going to college.”
“On the Sky High Scholars for a Better Tomorrow scholarship,” Rika said dryly.
“So that’s why you’re civ-track,” Ivanna said, as if finally understanding something. “To convince them you’re gonna work as one of their precious bureaucrats.”
“I am going to work as one of their precious bureaucrats,” I said beatifically. “Working for a better tomorrow.”
Ivanna laughed, just as her watch began to beep. She glanced down at it, and her eyes widened. “Shit, I gotta go,” she cast us an apologetic look.
“No problem,” Eileen smiled, her voice just the littlest bit off. “We’ll catch up later.”
“Yes, def,” Ivanna beamed, and then shimmered and was gone.
“Is it just me or was she fishing?” Rika asked nonchalantly.
“Not one of the Spymistress’s more skilled operatives,” Eileen growled.
Eileen despised the Spymistress, even though everyone else tolerated her. This is possibly because Eileen walked in on the Spymistress making out with her (now ex) boyfriend. The Spymistress claimed she had not know he was not single – which was ridiculous, she knew everything – but that even if she had, it wouldn’t have stopped her from swapping spit with him. Sweet, sweet Eileen had been pissed.
As we sat and began eating our lunches, we ran a running commentary on everyone else outside. It was mean, but it was pretty damn fun.
“And here come the golden bunch,” Rika said cheerfully. “Golden Boy Will Stronghold and his Golden Girl, plus sidekicks.”
“Ah, but they’re not called sidekicks anymore,” Eileen said serenely.
“Nope,” I rolled my eyes, “they’re just heroes who won’t get very good jobs after graduation!”
“Ah, but where is the Bad Boy, the only senior of the bunch?” Rika inquired. “One of the Triumvirate is missing, oh noes.”
“He probably decided to skip classes for the rest of day,” I offered.
“He’s probably banging some girl in the broom closet,” Rika proposed.
“Nah, he broke up with Andi yesterday, remember?” I asked. We all did – it had been a very public breakup involving damaged property and earsplitting screams. “More likely he’s jerking off.”
“Mary Sue!” Eileen gasped, shocked. “He’s probably still getting his lunch.”
“Or he got into a tiff with the Golden Boy,” Rika smiled.
“A tiff over the Golden Girl,” I laughed.
“Because they cuckolded the Golden Boy last night,” Rika suggested.
“While under the Golden Boy’s roof,” I finished.
“Oh, you two are incorrigible,” Eileen sighed.
“If we were really incorrigible,” Rika suggested, “we’d be speculating about the Bad Boy and the Golden Boy cuckolding the Golden Girl.”
“I wonder where he is thought – they’re usually inseparable,” I sighed.
“With out luck, probably right behind us,” Rika made a face.
We looked at each other with mounting horror, then turned around. No sign of furious prettyboys ready to barbecue our asses, so I figured we were safe.
“I would never screw Stronghold,” a voice said from above us. “I want to clarify that.”
Version 3:
“Tell the Spymistress that,” Eileen effectively ended the conversation. “Relay to her everything we’ve said – and then leave us alone.” Eileen was not fond of the Spymistress, and even though nobody else minded Ivanna or her like fishing for interesting tidbits for the Spymistress, Eileen hated it.
Ivanna blinked, and then disappeared.
“Neat trick,” Rika whistled. “The Spymistress must have given her some nifty gadgets this time.”
“She’s really gone,” Eileen confirmed. “Do you think she bought it?”
“Hey, everything I said was the honest-to-gods truth.” Rika smirked.
“I hate that woman,” Eileen sighed. “And not just because our powers are antithetical, no matter what the Counselor says.”
Version 4:
It really wasn’t fair, Will thought. Will was the famous hero. Will had the superpowers. Will had singlehandedly saved the school. So why was Warren the one who got laid every night? Why did all the girls and some of the boys have a crush on Warren? Warren was just the best friend.
Version 5:
He met her in a coffeeshop. He’d had a late night, busting a particularly pernicious supervillain while Will and Layla had been on their honeymoon, so he’d pretty much been on his own. He hadn’t called for backup, because it hadn’t been that bad – the battle was long, was all.
So when he was out of uniform, all he wanted was to rest. And it turned out that he powered down right near some little coffeeshop, and the scent of coffee smelled too good to pass up. He’d ordered, sunk into the comfortable armchair, and relaxed for the first time in a long time. And admired the waitress’s form as she sashayed over with his espresso.
“Hey, handsome,” she cooed. “Long day?”
He’d smiled appreciatively, and made a mental note to tip her generously. As she’d sashayed away, however, that’s when he’d noticed the barista hanging up her uniform and leaving for the night, done with her shift.
