I always wanted to be Wonder Woman.
Was never a fan of Supergirl…or Marvel comics…a lot of plunging necklines but not a lot of character development which really sucks, but, hey, to each their own.
Magic lasso that tells the truth?
Yes, please.
The ability to fly?
I’ll take the invisible jet or the power to skip around the clouds. I’m not picky like that.
The only thing I would have an issue with would be the outfit...I’d have to change it up bit because, face it, teenagers are nasty B-squares (bitches plus bastards) and I know that if I walked down the hallway of my school wearing the signature boots, skirt and…that’s a corset, right…? I’d have everyone and their second cousin laughing at me. I’d feel so self-conscious even though I had the power to knock their blocks out.
Social kryptonite.
I guess I have something in common with Supergirl after all.

“Alex Southam?”
“It’s Alexis,” I replied to the substitute who, apparently, had a copy of the roll from the office that had my name spelled wrong.
The substitute looked at me for a few seconds longer than I thought was necessary. It had to be the bow in my hair—it wasn’t huge, but maybe the rainbow-colored sparkles were a bit too loud for him.
“Alexis?” He asked with a hanging question, as in half an answer.
“Yes,” I responded as I moved my hair away from my face. I was three seconds from standing up and curtseying to him just to be an annoyance.
There was a long pause with him just looking at the lectern. He had to be thinking about what to think about me because John Sunyunu’s name wasn’t that hard to pronounce.
When I first arrived at my high school, I wore jeans and a blouse and a small bow on the left side of my head. It was school of 1198 students—so I blended into the ether until the second day when I strutted in a dress and an even larger bow. There was some pushback from parents after that, but for the most part, the rest of the student body didn’t care. There were a lot of questions, almost like I was a foreign exchange student.
“A guy wearing a dress?” One of the aforementioned bitches—who became my friend--said.
“Where?”
“You.”
“This is all chick, girl,” I replied as I moved my hands down my side.
She looked back at the hallway—perhaps looking for backup—but there wasn’t anyone around.
“I’m Alexis. You?”
“Kaitlyn,” she said as her offensive posture went down.
“Thank you for at least acknowledging me.”
“For what?”
“Everyone else just walked by, maybe giving a few looks or ignoring me outright. I can deal with that, always have, but when someone talks to me I kind of feel like I have to talk with them in a like manner, so, thank you for lowering the conflict with me.”
“Um, okay.”
“Can you tell me where Mr. Spearman’s Algebra Two class is?”
“I’ll show you,” she replied.

Katie was a girl who was high on the social hierarchy; she was in one off the upper echelons but unlike the others, she reached out to me. Yes, I had my defenses up, full shield and armor. This was high school after all.

Ever Girl’s a Super Girl —Jojo Siwa