Part 2
The girl who got off the bus at the central depot could have passed for a boy. She had on a dirty baseball cap; a pair of patched, faded jeans; and a ratty gray sweathsirt. The backpack looked new, however, which caught Superman's attention.
Superman was not Clark Kent's alter ego, though his real name had the same initials. Superman liked young ones; he estimated this one to be about 14. He walked over to the girl. "Hi, I'm Superman," he said.
"Grow up," said the girl.
"What's your name?" Superman persisted.
"Kryptonite. Now go away," said the girl. She started walking toward the exit to the street.
"Kryptonite? I like that."
"Well, I don't like you. Good-bye." She continued to walk.
He grabbed her arm and refused to let go. She kicked him in the balls and doubled him over. "Told you I was Kryptonite." She walked out to the street and turned left.
At a lunch counter, Kryptonite bought a sandwich and a can of Pepsi. A young man dressed much as she was asked if he could sit next to her. "Come here often?" he asked.
"All the time." Kryptonite figured it was better to lie than to let on that she was new in town.
"So do I. I've never seen you before—and I see everyone." The young man looked at her backpack. "This is new," he said. "Nobody who's been around very long has a new backpack. You just came in. Where you from?"
Kryptonite gave him a cold stare. "You look at my shit and tell me, smartypants."
"You're a tomboy from a small town. What's your name? No, let me give you one. Let's see, what would fit you?
Billy—no, that can be a girl's name too, and you don't want a girl's name. Bobby—Bob. You like that; I can tell from the look in your eye."
Kryptonite, formerly Barbara, now Bob, looked at the young man with amusement. "What's your name—Batman? Robin? Joker?"
"Call me Ace. Come with me. I want you to meet the King."
"Why?"
"You're new here. You need help—or you'll need help sooner or later. The King can help you."
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