The Frame-Up (The Golden Arrow #1)

by Meghan Scott Molin

I know better than to upset the Muggles. Even when they are seriously inconveniencing the rest of us in line.

I know from my failed attempts at dating that even when people say they are okay with my dyed hair and career choice, they usually aren’t. After my last disastrous breakup, I decided I was going to stop letting other people’s expectations bring me down. I was going to be full-tilt me, come hell or high water. I’d colored my hair a bright pink, the most shocking color I could imagine for my mother, to signify my dedication to being nontraditional and never looked back.

If only my time in a cupboard had made me a wizard. I’m still bitter about that. I want a magic wand.

I’ve been dismissed. Color me Batman in Knightfall. I’m fighting the good fight but getting my rear end handed to me.

The soul that at this very second is burning with such ferocity, the Human Torch would be jealous.

My mother gave up her true passion as a nurse to be a “lady of the house” and raise privileged, polished, perfect children. Think Emily Gilmore without the quaint East Coast charm. It’s everything I don’t want in a relationship. I want depth, breadth. I want messy and colorful. I want sitting on a couch and watching Star Wars, not sitting at a fancy dinner with sixteen forks.

It’s rare that my slightly curvy form is considered the epitome of “fit.” In fact, I don’t even own a scale. My personal philosophy is eating in moderation; feeling good over numbers; and if I don’t enjoy an exercise activity, I’ll never repeat it. Not exactly a poster child for workout-aholics. I’m afraid he’s up to that false altruism again, but the gaze he sweeps over my figure is appreciative, and it buoys my pride enough to allow the rabbit food to slide.

It was my moment of reckoning, looking at a future just like my parents’. No fun, no color, no passion, no room to be crazy into geek fandoms. Tied down. Boring. Typical. I didn’t want to be typical. I wanted to be a superhero.

“Okay, I’m headed downstairs after I start the movies.” After the spirit animals conversation, Matteo sticks to me like glue. I’m his life raft in this sea of awesome. “Oh good, I’m curious about these Star Wars movies. I’ve heard about them a lot since meeting MG.” You could have heard a pin drop. Kyle sucks in a breath. “You’ve never seen Star Wars? Like, ever?” “Never seen them, no. Is that bad?” Matteo has failed his entrance exam to my world. Never seen Star Wars.

I’m the Captain freaking Janeway of my own destiny, and if he thinks I’m going to let him or that jerk Detective Rideout screw with my crime scene, with the masked avenger masquerading as my favorite hero, when it’s me who tipped them off in the first place? Not to even mention the fact that Rideout thinks it’s me working with the Golden Arrow? Forget Captain Janeway. Trekkies unite and all due respect, but she has to play by Starfleet’s rules. I shove aside the niggling thought that I should play by the rules. I need to be a rulebreaker. A vigilante hero of my very own. I am the Han frickin’ Solo of my destiny now.

I’m about as well hidden as a disco ball at a flashlight festival.

When did my superhero become a villain?

“Honey, that’s what real family is. They’re the people you call when the bodies pile up.”

And I’m left all alone, swept along by the churning crowd, surrounded by life-size pink Wookiees, enough Star Trek uniforms to fill the Enterprise, hobbits, gremlins, and sexy gaming characters I don’t recognize by name. The sights and sounds bombard my senses, the huge banners flying overhead catnip for every sort of nerd delight. A convincing droid walks behind me, and I hear her say to her companion, “You know, next year I think I’m going to do crossover cosplay. Maybe R2-D2 Wonder Woman.” I close my eyes, hold out my hands, take a deep breath, and let it out. For everything else that’s going on . . . these are my people. I feel like I’ve come home.

I take the time to sort through the fact that Matteo isn’t my type. Instead, he balances me out. He doesn’t have to fit into my standards for a boyfriend . . . He cares about me. He may not know enough to ask me to watch a Doctor Who marathon yet, but he’ll watch it with me because he knows it will make me happy. I spent so much time pushing people away because they didn’t fit what I was looking for, and in the end what I needed was someone to bring me out of my prejudices. Open my eyes to the world. To realize that the perfect person will support my fashion design, my wacky hair, my comics, my job, because those things are all a part of me.

Here I am with a gorgeous Muggle, and the world still has magic in it. The Princess Bride is on TV, and there is a masked vigilante still out there in the world if things get too crazy. The universe is just about perfect.