The fluorescent lights of Winslow High buzzed overhead as Sophia stared at her calculus final. Numbers and equations blurred together on the page. Her pencil tapped against the desk as a familiar itch nagged at the back of her mind.

  Taylor sat two rows ahead, bent over her own test. The sight of her sparked... something. A fragment of memory - cold concrete floor, extension cords, swirling patterns on paper. Sophia's head throbbed. The memory slipped away like water through her fingers.

  "Fifteen minutes left," Mr. Henderson called out.

  Sophia shook her head and forced herself to focus on derivatives and integrals. Summer vacation waited on the other side of this week. Track meets, patrol schedules, maybe even that training camp Shadow Stalker had been invited to by the PRT...

  Emma caught her eye from across the room and gave a small wave. Sophia returned it automatically. They hadn't hung out much lately - not since that sleepover at the Barnes' house. When was that again? Last month? The details felt fuzzy, dreamlike.

  The bell rang. Students shuffled papers and zipped backpacks.

  "That wasn't so bad." Emma fell into step beside her in the hallway.

  "Yeah." Sophia rubbed her temples. That nagging sensation again, like a word stuck on the tip of her tongue. "Hey, when exactly was that sleepover at your place?"

  "Which one?" Emma's voice was light, casual.

  "You know, the..." Sophia frowned. "There was... I think Taylor was there?"

  "We've had lots of sleepovers." Emma adjusted her bag strap. "Hard to keep track sometimes. Speaking of Taylor, we should grab lunch together - she mentioned wanting to study for the English final."

  "Right." The headache intensified. Something about that night felt important, but every time she reached for the memory it dissolved into static. "Yeah, lunch sounds good."

  Sophia piled her tray with double portions at the cafeteria line. Her stomach growled, demanding more than her usual post-workout fuel.

  "Carb loading already? Season's over," Julie from the track team raised an eyebrow at Sophia's loaded tray.

  "Off season's the best time to build muscle." Sophia dropped into her seat next to Emma and Taylor.

  Taylor pulled out a large tupperware container. "Here, try this. Mrs. Barnes showed me her secret recipe." She spooned a generous portion of pasta onto Sophia's already full tray. The rich aroma of garlic and herbs made Sophia's mouth water.

  A flash of Mrs. Barnes crossed her mind - bandages, tears, fear in her eyes. Someone had hurt Emma's mom. The memory sparked anger deep in her chest. She'd have to increase her patrols around their neighborhood, figure out who did it.

  "This is amazing," Sophia said between bites. The pasta disappeared faster than she intended. At least the extra patrols would help burn off these calories.

  She watched Taylor explaining the recipe to Emma. Weird how Hebert could barely handle herself in gym class but turned out to be decent in the kitchen. The thought of Taylor in any kind of fight seemed absurd, though Sophia couldn't pin down why that notion crossed her mind.

  "You should open a restaurant or something after graduation," Emma told Taylor.

  Sophia snorted. "Nah, she should just find some guy to marry. Pop out a few kids, keep him well fed." The words came automatically, but the usual bite was missing. The image of Taylor as a housewife didn't trigger the same contempt it used to.

  Taylor just smiled and served another helping of pasta. "There's plenty more if anyone wants seconds."

  Sophia's fork was already reaching for more before she could stop herself.

  The basement's fluorescent lights hummed overhead as Taylor hunched over her workbench. Metal components and tools scattered across the surface while Emma lounged on the old couch, watching her best friend work.

  In the corner, Sophia sat cross-legged on a beanbag, her eyes fixed on a sheet of paper. Her lips moved silently as she read the same lines over and over.

  "Is it some kind of death ray?" Emma tilted her head at the contraption taking shape under Taylor's hands.

  "Nope." Taylor fitted two pieces together with a satisfying click.

  "Mind control device?"

  "Wrong again."

  "Come on, give me a hint. Those gears look super suspicious."

  Taylor reached for a screwdriver. "Since when do gears look suspicious?"

  "Since my best friend turned out to be a supervillain tinker." Emma grinned and flopped onto her stomach. "Weather machine?"

  "You're getting colder."

  Sophia flipped the paper over, started again from the top. Her eyes never left the page.

  "What's with her?" Emma whispered, nodding toward Sophia.

  Taylor glanced up. "Testing some new parameters. She'll snap out of it soon."

  Emma rolled her eyes. "At least summer break means no more pretending to care about algebra."

  "Speaking of which..." Taylor attached the final piece and held up her creation. A simple, elegant book binding machine sat on the workbench.

  "That's it? All that work for something that basically just puts paper together?"

  "Sometimes the simplest solutions are the best ones." Taylor tested the mechanism. The metal arms moved smoothly, ready to bind pages into a proper book.

  "I can't believe you wasted your talents on office supplies." Emma threw a cushion at her.

  Taylor caught it with a laugh. "Who says I'm done for the day?"

  Taylor gathered the loose pages, aligning them with practiced precision before feeding them into her new machine. The mechanism whirred to life, binding them into a leather-bound volume.

  "Here's your bedtime reading, Sophia." She handed the book over. "Every night before sleep, okay?"

  Sophia nodded, already opening to the first page.

  "Mom's coming home Thursday." Emma hugged her knees to her chest. "The doctors say she's stable enough now."

  "How's her mobility?" Taylor adjusted a gear on her machine.

  "Still needs help getting around. Panacea fixed her spine but..." Emma's voice trailed off. "The fall did something to her brain. She gets confused sometimes."

  "That's where Sophia comes in." Taylor gestured to their entranced friend. "You'll help Mrs. Barnes, won't you?"

  "Yes. I want to help." Sophia's voice came out flat, mechanical.

  "Can't you just..." Emma tapped her temple. "You know, fix what's broken up there?"

  Taylor's shoulders tensed. "You think I haven't been trying? Brain damage isn't like rewiring a circuit board. My tech specializes in influence and suggestion, not repair."

  "Sorry, I didn't mean-"

  "No, it's fine." Taylor exhaled. "It's just frustrating. Even the conditioning takes forever. Look how long we've been working on Sophia. Weeks of careful programming, and we're still not at full effectiveness."

  "But it's working?"

  "Slowly. The human mind fights changes. Push too hard, too fast, and everything falls apart. Better to let it happen gradually, naturally."

  Emma watched Sophia turn another page. "Like water wearing down stone?"

  "Exactly." Taylor picked up another stack of papers. "Now help me sort these. I need to make a few more books for her rotation."

  Taylor set down her tools and turned to Emma. "Speaking of healing... How often does the New Wave family interact with your dad's firm outside of Mrs. Dallon?"

  "Mostly just the spring social." Emma twisted a strand of hair around her finger. "Carol Dallon's been working cases with dad for years. They always bring Amy along."

  "Panacea." Taylor drummed her fingers on the workbench. "A biokinetic would be fascinating to study. My tech might work better if I could understand how her power interfaces with the brain."

  "Taylor..." Emma's voice held a note of warning.

  "Just for research. A few subtle suggestions, nothing permanent." Taylor gestured at her book binding machine. "Think about it - if I could replicate even a fraction of her healing ability through technology, we could help your mom recover faster."

  "You want to Master Panacea?" Emma sat up straighter.

  "Not Master, just... observe. Guide." Taylor's shoulders slumped. "I know it sounds bad. But watching how she manipulates biology could give me insights I'd never get otherwise. And it would only be temporary."

  "The Dallons are good people. They've helped dad with so many pro-bono cases."

  "Which is why Panacea would want to help your mom if she understood the situation properly." Taylor picked up a gear, turning it over in her hands. "Sometimes people need a little push to do the right thing."

  Emma chewed her lip. "The spring social was two weeks ago."

  Taylor set down the gear with a sigh. "If only I'd known about the social earlier. The timing would have been perfect."

  "Ugh, don't remind me of missed opportunities." Emma buried her face in the couch cushions. "These finals are killing me. My brain feels like mush after all that studying. Who needs to know this much about cellular respiration anyway?"

  Taylor's fingers froze over her workbench. Her eyes widened.

  "Oh no." Emma caught her expression. "I know that look."

  "I just realized..." Taylor ran a hand through her hair. "My learning enhancement protocols could have-"

  "Are you kidding me?" Emma bolted upright. "We've been killing ourselves with flashcards and study groups for weeks!"

  "It slipped my mind! I was so focused on the conditioning sequences for Sophia that I didn't think about-"

  "Taylor Hebert, you are the worst best friend ever." Emma snatched up a pillow. "All those nights I spent memorizing formulas..."

  "The neural pathways for academic learning are actually quite similar to-"

  The pillow caught Taylor square in the face, cutting off her explanation. Emma flopped back onto the couch with an exaggerated groan while Taylor sputtered through a mouthful of fabric.

  Emma launched another pillow assault. Taylor ducked behind her workbench, grabbing ammunition from the beanbag next to Sophia, who remained absorbed in her reading.

  "Some friend you are!" Emma punctuated each word with a throw. "Letting me suffer through calculus!"

  Taylor popped up to return fire. "I was distracted! And besides-" She lobbed a cushion. "The tech wasn't ready for academic enhancement yet."

  "Sure, blame the tech." Emma blocked with her forearm. "Next you'll tell me you could make me a better model too."

  Taylor paused mid-throw. "Actually..."

  "Wait, seriously?" Emma lowered her pillow.

  "The neural pathways for physical skills are less complex than academic learning. Muscle memory, spatial awareness, balance..." Taylor's fingers twitched toward her tools. "I could probably design something to enhance your modeling abilities."

  Emma bounced on her toes. "Do it! Please? It would be perfect for testing."

  "You'd really trust me with that?" Taylor's voice softened.

  "Of course I trust you, dummy. You're my best friend." Emma flopped next to her on the floor. "Besides, if something goes wrong, at least I'll only end up walking funny on the catwalk."

  Taylor's chest tightened. Emma's complete faith in her triggered an old impulse - to ensure that trust could never be broken, to weave loyalty into the enhancement protocols. She pushed the thought away.

  "Give me a week. I'll need to calibrate the spatial recognition matrices."

  "As long as it's ready before my next photoshoot." Emma bumped her shoulder. "And next time, tell me when you make something that could help with school!"

  Sophia leaped between rooftops, her shadow form dispersing and reforming with each landing. The summer heat pressed down, making her costume stick uncomfortably. She'd added an extra mile to her patrol route, trying to work off the new softness around her middle.

  "Stupid Barnes dinners," she muttered, phasing through an air conditioning unit. The memory of last night's lasagna made her mouth water. Even the track coach had commented on her changed physique during summer training.

  She paused at the edge of a building, checking the time. Emma's shoot would start in thirty minutes at the waterfront studio. Still enough time to sweep through the commercial district.

  Her phone buzzed - a text from Taylor with a photo of fresh-baked cookies. 'Bringing these to the shoot. New recipe!'

  "Damn it, Hebert." But Sophia's lips curved up despite herself. The girl might be a weakling, but those hands worked magic in the kitchen.

  A distant car alarm caught her attention. Sophia shifted to shadow form, gliding toward the sound. Just some kids trying to break into a sedan. She materialized behind them, clearing her throat.

  "Find another hobby."

  They scattered, sneakers slapping against pavement. Not worth chasing down. These days she felt less drive to hunt the small fry.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  The bay breeze carried the scent of salt as she worked her way toward the studio. Her stomach growled, reminding her of those promised cookies. Taylor had been different lately - less annoying, more... useful. The thought of the skinny girl still triggered something uneasy in the back of her mind, but it felt distant, unimportant.

  "At least she knows her place now," Sophia muttered, launching herself across another gap. "Support staff."

  She landed harder than intended, her altered center of gravity throwing off the jump. Cursing under her breath, she straightened up and patted her stomach.

  "Better be worth it, Hebert." But she was already picking up speed, heading toward the promise of fresh-baked cookies and Emma's shoot.

  Sophia paused on a fire escape, catching her breath. The metal thrummed with the beat of music from the apartment below. Her thoughts drifted to Mrs. Barnes - she'd helped her with her physical therapy that morning.

  "Left foot first, Mrs. B." The words echoed in her memory as she'd supported the woman's weight. The smile on Mrs. Barnes' face when she made it across the living room without the walker sparked something warm in Sophia's chest.

  A pigeon took flight nearby, wings beating against the summer air. Sophia traced its path across the skyline, remembering how she'd scoffed at her own mother's endless patience with her younger siblings. Now, after spending weeks helping Mrs. Barnes with everything from bathing to dressing, that patience made more sense.

  "Thank you, dear," Mrs. Barnes had said that morning, squeezing her hand. "You're such a blessing."

  The praise hit different from her track medals or successful patrols. It settled deeper, wrapped around her heart like a warm blanket.

  She touched down on another rooftop, her shadow form solidifying. Yesterday, she'd caught herself humming while folding Mrs. Barnes' laundry - the same tune her mother used to sing while doing housework. The memory brought a small smile to her face.

  "Who'd have thought," she whispered to the empty air, "being needed could feel this good?"

  The studio's neon sign came into view. Sophia checked her phone - still ten minutes until Emma's shoot. Time enough to change and grab those cookies Taylor promised. Her stomach growled at the thought, but for once she didn't mind. The extra weight seemed a fair trade for these new, softer feelings taking root inside her.

  Sophia slipped into shadow form one final time, descending into the alley beside the modeling agency. She retrieved her gym bag from behind the dumpster where she'd stashed it earlier, quickly switching her patrol costume for jean shorts and a tank top.

  The agency's lobby buzzed with activity - assistants darting between racks of clothes, makeup artists touching up faces, photographers adjusting equipment. Emma's red hair stood out across the room, where she chatted with two tall blondes Sophia recognized from magazine covers.

  "Your poses have gotten so natural," one of the twins said, flicking her perfect hair over her shoulder.

  "The camera loves you even more now," the other added, touching Emma's arm.

  Sophia leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. She'd seen enough vapid model talk to last a lifetime. The twins kept gushing, their voices carrying across the lobby.

  "We heard Vogue is looking for fresh faces for their fall spread-"

  "And we could totally put in a good word-"

  Emma smiled, ducking her head with practiced modesty. "That's so sweet of you both."

  Sophia checked her phone, scrolling through PHO to pass the time. The twins were still going on about some upcoming fashion week in Milan. She caught fragments about agents and contracts, tuning most of it out.

  "Your whole presence has changed," one twin noted. "There's this new confidence-"

  "Like you finally found yourself," the other finished.

  Emma's laugh tinkled through the air. "I've had amazing friends helping me grow."

  Sophia's thumb paused over her phone screen. The praise for Emma felt earned - she had changed over the summer, carrying herself with a grace that went beyond mere modeling poses. But something about that change nagged at the edges of Sophia's mind, like a word stuck on the tip of her tongue.

  She shook off the feeling, returning to her phone. The twins were still chattering about industry connections and upcoming opportunities. Sophia settled in to wait, already anticipating Taylor's promised cookies.

  The twins spotted Sophia by the wall, their perfect smiles flickering for a moment.

  "Speaking of image," the first twin lowered her voice, "you have to be careful about who you associate with."

  Emma tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

  "Well," the second twin touched Emma's shoulder, "in this industry, every connection matters. The right friends can open doors-"

  "And the wrong ones..." The first twin's eyes darted to Sophia. "Let's just say it reflects on your personal brand."

  "Oh, you mean Sophia?" Emma's lips curved up. "She's been helping take care of my mom since her accident."

  The twins exchanged looks. "That's... sweet," the first one said.

  "Very charitable of you to include her," the second added. "It shows good character, taking an interest in the less fortunate."

  "Giving back to the community is important," the first twin nodded. "But maybe keep it more... behind the scenes?"

  Emma's smile never wavered. "I'll take that under advisement."

  "We just want what's best for your career," the second twin squeezed Emma's arm. "You have real potential. Wouldn't want anything holding you back."

  "Of course not," Emma agreed. "Image is everything in this business, right?"

  The twins beamed, clearly pleased their message had landed. "Exactly! Now, about that Milan connection..."

  Sophia pushed off the wall, her jaw tight. The twins' staged whispers carried across the lobby - they weren't even trying to be subtle anymore. She slipped out the glass doors into the afternoon heat, the concrete radiating warmth through her sneakers.

  "Vapid bitches," she muttered, dropping onto a decorative planter. The rough stone edge dug into her thighs.

  A familiar shuffle of footsteps approached. Taylor rounded the corner, carrying a cloth-wrapped bundle that smelled of butter and vanilla.

  "Thought I'd find you out here." Taylor settled next to her, unwrapping still-warm cookies. "The twins are... a lot."

  "That's one way to put it." Sophia grabbed a cookie, the chocolate chips melting on her fingers. "You'd think they invented modeling the way they talk."

  "Emma knows how to handle them." Taylor offered another cookie. "Besides, their careers peaked two years ago. They're just trying to stay relevant."

  Sophia paused mid-bite. Since when did Taylor know industry gossip? The thought slipped away as the cookie's richness hit her tongue.

  "These are different," she said, reaching for another.

  "Brown butter and sea salt." Taylor brushed crumbs from her skirt. "Mrs. Barnes suggested the recipe."

  The mention of Emma's mom softened something in Sophia's chest. "How's she doing with the new exercises?"

  "Better. She made it up the stairs twice yesterday without help."

  Sophia nodded, licking chocolate from her thumb. The twins' voices drifted through the doors, high and artificial. She couldn't remember why she used to care about impressing people like that.

  "Emma can handle them." Taylor offered another cookie. "She's stronger than they think."

  Sophia accepted the second cookie without hesitation. "Since when did you become the voice of reason?"

  "Someone has to be." Taylor's smile carried an edge Sophia couldn't quite read. "Besides, you're much nicer when you're well-fed."

  The comment should have sparked outrage. Instead, Sophia found herself nodding, licking chocolate from her fingers. "Whatever. Just keep the cookies coming."

  "Of course." Taylor's voice held a note of satisfaction. "That's what friends are for."

  Sophia reached for another cookie, the warmth still radiating through the cloth wrapping. "Bet those Biermann twins work for Kaiser on the side. All that Aryan perfection bullshit." She took a bite, crumbs falling onto her tank top. "Blonde hair, blue eyes, perfect little white girl smiles. Probably got Empire tattoos under those designer dresses."

  Taylor shifted on the planter, her shoulder brushing against Sophia's. "They do spend a lot of time at Medhall events."

  "Yeah? How'd you know that?"

  "Emma mentioned it. Their uncle's an executive there." Taylor adjusted her glasses. "Though I guess that doesn't prove anything."

  "Please. You've seen how they act around anyone who isn't white as snow." Sophia brushed the crumbs from her shirt. "Those fake smiles drop real quick when they spot me in the room. Probably rush home to shower after being in the same building as a Black girl."

  "They're not very subtle about it."

  "Nazi Barbies." Sophia snorted. "Wonder if Kaiser makes them goose-step down the runway."

  Sophia dusted cookie crumbs from her fingers, her jaw tightening. "That's their whole deal, you know? Empire. Always someone else's fault. Never their own choices."

  She paced the sidewalk, gesturing with half a cookie. "Oh, didn't get that promotion? Must be because of minorities. Business failed? Blame the ABB. Kid's a dropout? Gotta be those immigrant families raising the curve."

  "Sounds familiar," Taylor muttered, but Sophia barreled on.

  "Like, take some damn responsibility. Maybe you didn't get ahead because you spent more time at rallies than studying. Maybe your business tanked because you refused to serve half the city. But no-" She chomped the remains of her cookie. "Easier to point fingers than look in the mirror."

  "The irony of you talking about personal responsibility." Taylor's voice dripped with amusement, but Sophia missed the jab entirely.

  "Right? These people walking around like the world owes them something just because their great-great-whatever came from Europe. Please." She reached for another cookie. "At least the ABB's honest about being thugs. Empire wraps it all up in this victim complex bullshit."

  Taylor adjusted her glasses, a slight smirk playing at her lips. "You really hate people who blame others for their problems, huh?"

  "Can't stand it." Sophia shook her head, completely oblivious to Taylor's pointed looks. "Own your choices. Deal with the consequences. How hard is that?"

  The glass doors swung open, and Emma emerged into the afternoon sun. Her makeup was perfect, hair styled in loose waves that caught the light.

  "There you are." She dropped onto the planter between them. "Those two are exhausting. It's all 'Milan this' and 'Paris that.' Like anyone still books European shows through their agency."

  "Thought they were hooking you up with Vogue?" Sophia reached for another cookie.

  "Please. Their 'connections' dried up years ago." Emma rolled her eyes. "They're just trying to stay relevant by attaching themselves to fresh talent. Classic industry move."

  "Here." Taylor offered Emma a cookie. "You earned it after dealing with them."

  "Thanks." Emma bit into the treat, careful not to smudge her lipstick. "The photographer wants to start in five. You staying to watch?"

  "Can't." Sophia brushed off her shorts. "Got Mrs. B's physical therapy at four."

  Emma's expression softened. "Tell Mom I'll bring dinner home. That new Thai place she likes?"

  "The one with the green curry?" Sophia stood, stretching. "She'll like that. Just nothing too spicy - doctor's orders."

  "I know, I know." Emma waved her off. "Go make my mom walk straight again."

  "Working on it." Sophia grabbed one last cookie for the road. "Later, Hebert. Try not to poison anyone else with these."

  "No promises." Taylor's smile didn't quite reach her eyes, but Sophia was already heading down the sidewalk, focused on her next task.

  The basement hummed with the soft whir of Taylor's machines. Emma sprawled across the worn couch, flipping through a magazine while Taylor tinkered at her workbench.

  "So explain it again." Emma lowered the magazine. "The roles thing."

  Taylor set down her soldering iron. "Think of it like casting a play. Each person gets specific parts to perform."

  "And the more specific the part-"

  "The better they perform it." Taylor picked up a stack of papers. "Like Sophia. We gave her the roles of 'Protector,' 'Caregiver,' and 'Homemaker.' Notice how she's excelling at taking care of your mom?"

  Emma nodded. "And she's still patrolling the neighborhood."

  "Right. The 'Protector' role reinforces her existing tendencies, just redirects them. Makes her more... constructive." Taylor adjusted her glasses. "If I'd just given her 'Helper,' it wouldn't work nearly as well."

  "Like how my cooking improved after you gave me 'Sous Chef,' but I'm still nowhere near as good as someone with 'Pastry Chef' would be at deserts"

  "Exactly." Taylor pulled out a diagram covered in neat annotations. "The broader the role, the more diluted the effect. 'Homemaker' might make someone decent at general household tasks, but they'd be outperformed at cleaning by someone with 'Housekeeper' or 'Professional Cleaner.'"

  "How many can you do at once?"

  "Two or three per person, max. Any more and they start conflicting." Taylor frowned at her notes. "And they have to be somewhat compatible. Can't make someone both 'Rebel' and 'Conformist.'"

  "Makes sense." Emma sat up. "So what's next? More refinements to the existing roles?"

  "Maybe. I've been thinking about creating some new ones, but-" Taylor gestured at her workbench, covered in half-finished devices. "It takes time to get the calibration right."

  "Anne's loving that 'Dedicated Student' role, by the way," Emma said, stretching her legs across the couch. "Said her summer classes feel like a breeze now."

  "Good to hear. Though I'm still tweaking that one - don't want to make it too effective or people might notice."

  Emma grinned. "Mom's been raving about Sophia too. Never thought I'd see her teaching Sophia how to cook."

  "The 'Homemaker' role really took with her. How's your dad handling all the changes?"

  "I think he knows something's up." Emma twirled a strand of hair. "But he's doing that lawyer thing where he pretends not to notice what he doesn't want to deal with."

  Taylor shifted in her chair. "Speaking of dads... I might have done something with mine."

  "Taylor! You didn't tell me."

  "Just a basic book. Something to help him snap out of his depression." Taylor fiddled with a screwdriver. "But it worked better than expected. He's running for President of the Dockworkers Association now."

  "Wait, seriously? Your dad?"

  "Yeah. Not just handling hiring anymore. He's got all these plans for renovating the ferry, bringing in new contracts." Taylor shrugged. "Maybe I should dial it back a bit."

  "Are you kidding? That's amazing. Your dad needed a push - he's been stuck since..."

  "Since mom died. I know." Taylor set down her tools. "But sometimes I wonder if I'm pushing too hard."

  Emma sat up straight, eyes blazing. "You know what? We've been thinking too small."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Winslow. It's a mess, and everyone knows it." Emma started pacing the basement. "The gangs treat it like their personal recruiting ground. ABB in one corner, Empire in another."

  Taylor set down her tools. "Emma-"

  "No, hear me out. Your books - we could distribute them as study guides. Self-help books. You know how desperate some of the students are to improve their grades."

  "That's a lot of people to influence at once." Taylor rubbed her temples. "The calibration would be tricky."

  "But think about it. Instead of the gangs getting their hooks into freshmen, we could redirect them. Make them actually care about their education." Emma's hands moved as she spoke. "Principal Blackwell would probably endorse anything that looks like it might help test scores."

  "It seems risky. If someone figured it out-"

  "Who would? The PRT? They're too busy with the obvious threats. Nobody's going to look twice at a bunch of kids suddenly getting better grades and staying out of gangs."

  "I don't know, Emma." Taylor picked up one of her completed books. "This is different from helping your mom or fixing my dad's depression."

  "Is it? We're still helping people. Just more of them." Emma stopped pacing and faced Taylor. "You've seen how many kids disappear into the gangs every year. We could stop that."

  "By taking away their choice?"

  "But that's just it," Emma leaned forward. "Look at everyone we've helped so far. Unless we go deep - like we did with Sophia - they're still fundamentally themselves. Just... better versions."

  Taylor picked up another book, turning it over in her hands. "You're right. Dad's still Dad. He still loves boats and history and terrible puns. He just has his spark back."

  "Exactly! Anne's still a perfectionist bookworm, she's just more focused now. And your dad's still running the Dockworkers like he always wanted to - he's just actually doing something about it instead of letting things slide."

  Taylor set the book down, her fingers drumming against the workbench. "And the roles could be tailored... Athletic roles to help kids excel at sports without steroids or other dangers..."

  "Student roles to help them focus, stay organized..." Emma nodded enthusiastically.

  "Even the teachers." Taylor's eyes lit up behind her glasses. "God knows they need help staying motivated with their workload. Basic teaching roles could help them structure lessons better, keep students engaged..."

  "See? This isn't about changing who people are." Emma settled back on the couch. "It's about helping them be their best selves."

  Taylor's fingers traced the edge of her workbench. "Remember Jessica from Bio? Got pregnant last semester?"

  "Yeah. That whole mess with Brad pressuring her." Emma's face darkened. "He kept saying they were too young, and tried forcing her to get rid of it."

  "She dropped out. No support system." Taylor picked up a blank book. "And there was Aunt Clementine..."

  Emma nodded slowly. "Mom went on this whole thing about it last week. How modern women are taught to chase careers instead of building families. How society's pushing all the wrong values."

  "She's not entirely wrong." Taylor opened the blank book, spreading the pages. "But we can't customize roles for everyone. Too many variables, too much work."

  "So what's the solution?"

  "Basic templates. Foundation roles." Taylor grabbed her pen, starting to sketch. "Something general enough to boost multiple areas but specific enough to still be effective."

  "Like what?"

  "'Homemaker' for the girls. Not just cooking and cleaning - it includes budgeting, organizing, and maintaining relationships." Taylor's pen moved faster. "And 'Devoted Dad' for the boys. Responsibility, protection, providing for others."

  "Simple. Traditional." Emma leaned over Taylor's shoulder. "Who could object to that?"

  "Exactly. Nothing extreme, nothing that raises red flags. Just... better foundations for everyone."

  Taylor closed the blank book with a soft thud. "We'll need to start small. Test it on a few students first."

  "The freshman orientation would be perfect." Emma stretched out on the couch. "All those nervous kids looking for guidance. They practically beg for self-help books."

  "And their parents would probably encourage it." Taylor began organizing her workbench. "Who doesn't want their child to succeed in high school?"

  "Plus, we could track the results better. New students, clean slate." Emma picked up her magazine again. "No one would question if they started off well-behaved."

  Taylor nodded, sliding her tools into their designated spots. "I'll need the rest of summer to prepare enough books. Different covers, different titles - can't make it too obvious they're connected."

  "I can help with distribution." Emma flipped a page. "Between the modeling contacts and school activities, I know pretty much everyone."

  "Perfect." Taylor switched off her work lamp. The basement fell into a comfortable dimness, broken only by the soft glow of her idle machines. "Time to head up? Your mom's probably wondering where we disappeared to."

  Emma stood, smoothing her clothes. "Yeah, and Sophia should be here soon for dinner. You staying?"

  "Wouldn't miss it." Taylor gathered her notes into a neat pile. "Your mom's cooking has improved since we adjusted her role."

  They climbed the basement stairs, leaving behind the quiet hum of machinery and the stack of blank books waiting to be filled. Above them, the sounds of Mrs. Barnes humming in the kitchen drifted down - another small success in their growing collection.