Aaron stared at the tablet, torn between shock and disbelief. Two images were frozen on the screen: one the Molly he’d started to trust and rely on, and the other a vigilante with a reputation for being dangerous and unpredictable. “It can’t be her,” he said.
“I didn’t believe it at first either,” Ivy said. She hunched her shoulders up and stared at the floor. “But you can see the resemblance when you’re looking for it. And the questions I asked her… They made her nervous, Aaron. You don’t need powers to see that.”
Molly had run out of clean clothes.
It hadn’t occurred to her until about ten minutes ago, but the only things left in her dresser were baggy t-shirts and jeans with holes in them.
She rifled through the clothes on her floor for a minute before resorting to the closet, where she’d stacked all the boxes she was too lazy to unpack. The one on the bottom had “clothes” scribbled across it, so she wrestled it out from under the others and tore it open.
It was mostly sweaters. She delved all the way through the box and managed to find a pair of faded jeans and a plain raspberry-colored shirt that was only sort of wrinkled. She started to put everything else back when she saw a familiar blue fabric crumpled in the bottom.