It had not stopped raining for several days, the autumn weather had definitely managed to make itself heard.
The children took advantage of every moment of distraction by their parents to jump into some puddle and wet their pants with stagnant water, up to their knees.
Maeve felt too old to smile at the bad weather despite loving to stay inside, covered in soft blankets that could make her feel safe. She had to go out and, despite the umbrella, her shoes were almost completely wet.
Her hair had reacted due to moisture, swelling up and creating a small cloud over her head that made her look like the sulky cartoon characters that her younger sister watched on TV.
Although the lobby was packed with students, Maeve was determined to get to the classroom on time. It wasn't her first day, she didn't have to impress any professor, she just wanted to get away from the crowd.
A hand full of fine golden rings grabbed her arm just before she slipped on the wet floor.
A cascade of straight light hair framed the clear face of the girl who was watching her.
"At nine o'clock," she said laying a hand on the blonde's shoulder; at that moment Maeve realized that Chloe Moran was completely different from both Grace and her. Her red hair made her stand out in the crowd, drawing more attention to her than her naturally chaotic character did on its own.
In the fateful position indicated by Chloe was a boy with a flashy smile along with his friends.
The tall, casual Harry Black, with his dark curly hair and green eyes; all this mixture of tanned skin and great taste in dressing had made him, over the years, the most beautiful and admired boy of the school.
"I think he's gay. - said Grace breaking the moment of pause that had been created, as in tacit agreement, to admire the boy from afar - I mean, explain to me, how can such gorgeous boy not have yet gone out with the cheerleaders' captain?"
Chloe was startled, looking at Grace with her eyes wide open. That girl had always been a keen reader but her belief in 'many things only happen in novels' frequently contrasted with the vision of an ever-perfect life that characterized Chloe.
"I think the absence of a group of cheerleaders in our school may be a point not to be ignored in your hypothesis, my dear." The blonde answered with a simple laugh accompanied by a glance towards the sky.
The present in some moments has no meaning. It is simply a coincidence of before and after, a moment between two others.
The time when people leave work, for example, is after a long day and before a well-deserved rest.
Maeve was stuck in a moment like this; between the end of classes and an afternoon course of journalism in which she was not sure she wanted to attend. The classroom where this took place was deserted at the time the girl arrived. The lights were still off. She approached the window and laid her fingertips on the cold glass. The dark clouds covered the sun, the last drops of rain were sliding along the outside of the window when lightning broke the dark spot in the distance, causing barely audible thunder. She started counting, when she was little Aunt May had told her that every three seconds passed from lightning to thunder was equivalent to a mile from where she was at where the lightning had crashed to the ground.
She got to five when the lights went on all of a sudden making her turn immediately.
"I wish it had stopped raining before."
Harry was at the door. Wet hair was dripping on the school sports team sweatshirt forming dark spots on the fabric.
The school coach was a determined man, extremely good and passionate in sports, but overly authoritarian. A training, whatever it was, had to be carried out even during a cloudburst.
"I'm sorry I'm late." continued the boy, having no answer from the girl.
Maeve this time answered with a broad smile.
"Don't worry, no one's here yet."
"Yes, I know. Today is not a practical lesson. At the last one Professor Forst announced that he had managed to convince a new student to participate in the project, he asked me if, once out of training, I would be willing to update you on the task for the next meeting."
The girl began to thank mentally the chubby professor who, with extremely convincing words, had managed to get her enrolled in that course.
"The subject for this article is not very specific - Harry said - you have to write about injustice. - he stopped a few seconds seeing the concerned girl - I had a tip from a friend for a cue, I'm going there now, if you want to come we can draft the article together."
Maeve's response was entirely predictable.
The concrete road was clearly not fixed for several years, it was strewn with too deep grooves and too high dunes, Maeve thought that cars most likely not passed for years.
The shabby and seemingly abandoned houses frightened her. A shiver ran through her back making her squeeze into the vest.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" she asked in a low but well-audible voice.
"Sure, I'm sure" said the boy, raising an eyebrow.
Maeve thought that everything surrounding them at the time could be misunderstood by a post-apocalyptic scenario. That was probably the only part of New York where there was the possibility of walk in the middle of the road without risking being hit by multiple cars at the same time.
They turned the corner.
In the middle of the square, which was not very large and not very majestic, there was a dead fountain.
That place, however, seemed populated by a joy in contrast with all that surrounded them; that happiness was brought by children.
Some of them drew the edge of the fountain with colored chalk, others played chasing each other or racing somersaults.
Everything stopped as soon as Maeve and Harry approached.
One of the oldest children ran towards them, standing in front of the youngest and pointing a wooden sword to the two teenagers.
"Password," he exclaimed, causing silence to fall in the square.
He was just a child, but at that moment Maeve felt like an adult was talking to her.
Harry bowed to a knee smiling.
"You must be Freddie, this girl and I are not here to stop you from playing - he said making a funny face to a little girl and finding right after the point of the little sword pressed against his nose - he sent me a friend of yours, Liam, We're just here to ask you a few questions if-"
"We're here to play with you." Maeve interrupted.
Louis looked at them with his sword on the ground and a huge smile on his face.
"You know Uncle Liam! Guys, they know Uncle Liam!"
Exclaimed the child; and as if his voice had been an instant reminder they all returned to play, including Freddie.
"We're not here to play with them." Harry puffed up and tried to wipe his pants as best as he could.
It was difficult to avoid clashing with the children who in the meantime had started running again.
"They're children, you can't demand an interrogation," Maeve replied, watching a little girl jump beside them.
Harry took out of his backpack a notebook and a pen.
"I'll try to talk to Louis, see what you can do." he left his backpack on the ground and went to the child who, as soon as he saw Harry, made a grimace.
The little girl started pulling on Maeve's sweatshirt. She was extremely pretty, her hair looked like a golden waterfall and her eyes were intense blue, similar to the color of her small, colour-faded dress.
"Can you teach me that?"
She said biting the fingertip of his thumb and pointing with the other hand the braid in which Maeve's hair was collected, causing a sweet smile on the girl's face.
In a short time around Maeve, sitting on the entrance steps of an uninhabited house, had gathered a lot of girls and some curious children.
The little girls took turns on the Maeve's legs, the girl gave them the prettiest hairstyles while the children told her the games they had invented.
There were games that took place with the ball, those with the rope and the usual hide and seek.
They told her that in the days when there was a storm they were not allowed to go out and play but, in most cases, they lived so close to have homes a few meters from each other; so they'd go to a window and breathe on the glass, write with their finger and send coded messages.
It was fun until their moms found out and got mad because they left finger jobs on the windows.
"Mom says she doesn't have time to clean the window every time because she works so hard, but one day she'll get me a pink dress like the princess' one!" said the girl sitting on Maeve's lap as the teenager felt her heart tighten.
Maeve had just finished braiding everyone's hair when Freddie, on the run from Harry's questions, reached her.
"Come, come," he cried, taking Maeve's hand and bringing her to the fountain.
A myriad of drawings had been made on the short wall surrounding it, and Maeve leaned on her knees to look at them. The colored chalks laid on the ground.
"We have to redo them every time it rains because they go away, but when they disappear there are usually colored puddles!"
The girl laughed and then touched the drawing of a figure with a green and yellow dot on his chest.
"It's him! It's him!" the children began to say.
"He's Metamer - said Freddie and then he walked up to Maeve and whispered in her ear - he's a superhero!"
She had read that name in a newspaper in recent months but most of the time it was called 'masked thief', 'black figure' or simply 'the wanted one'.
Some said he was a drug dealer, others a pickpocket, the last one a terrorist.
It was the first time she'd heard of him as a superhero.
"Tell her about the yellow dots" whispered a child of the group raising his voice and distracting Maeve from her thoughts but managing to make her laugh.
Freddie spoke again, pointing to the yellow dots near Metamer's drawing.
"This is us! We are fireflies! He always tells us. - then, pointing the dot on the chest of the dark figure, - This shines because when we sleep we become fireflies and we all end up in here to give him strength." Freddie smiled as the other children smiled.
Harry approached them looking puzzled.
Freddie had then brought the girl a green chalk scratching his neck with his other hand.
"We're out of yellow, but you can be a firefly too if you want."
Maeve smiled and took the chalk almost completely consumed by the child's hands. She drew a green dot among the others.