Not All Heroes Wear Capes (editing)

CHAPTER ONE

**One**

I hum as I tap on the steering wheel of my car. The radio blares in my face and the wind pours in through the open windows, sending my hair sailing in all different directions. My humming evolves into cringe-worthy singing as I speed down the windy road. 

" I'm like a bird, I wanna fly away..." I chorus loudly, even though my screechy voice has some needs some improvement. The clueless guy driving next to me shoots me an awkward glance, but I return it with a grin and continue to get lost in the music.

In fact, the lyrics are something I would say. I've always wanted to soar in the sky, away from everyone, free from stress. Except a bird isn't exactly what I want to be compared to - I was going for a superhero kind of look.

Judge me all you want, but Wonder Woman has been and is currently my idol. Instead of fancy One Direction posters, I have Wonder Woman and Cat Woman pictures taped to my bedroom wall. I don't worship cute boy bands or kiss a snapshot of Cameron Dallas every night - I glare into the eyes of a supergirl before I go to bed.

Why? Because a hero is something I've been, according to my small town, and I cherished that feeling forever. The event that labeled me as the 'California's greatest hero' started with a boy enclosed in a flaming car and ended with him alive in my arms. I noticed the crash driving to the place I am heading to now - high school. I was featured on the local news, interviewed by reporters, and questioned by curious classmates.

Life was glorious.

But now, things have died down, and I'm just a somewhat normal girl in an almost normal world, waiting to save another life.

****

The bell rings, signaling for everyone to bolt out of class for their cars. Eager to get home, people leap from their seats, shoving their way through crowds. High school is a complete madhouse, especially when it's the end of Friday.

Before I exit the doors, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I whip back around to see who it was, but all I find is a folded piece of notebook paper. Whoever had put it there must have dashed away, because no one around is looking at me or standing near me.

I tear off the note, open it up, and read what the words say.

Dear my hero,

I never got to really talk to you, but I have seen you around a lot. I wish we could get to know each other better. Sincerely, your secret admirer.

Confused, I stare at the words that have now become blurry. I have a secret admirer? Who on earth could possibly have a crush on me? Wait - I take that back. This anonymous admirer called me his hero, so that means only one thing.

My secret admirer is a boy in my history and math class. The boy I pulled from a car engulfed in flames. 

The boy I... saved.