It came in a letter. In this day and age, with all the technology available, it came in a letter. The biggest news I've ever received came in a letter.

I was sitting in the dining room. Light was streaming in through the window, refracting through the stained glass decorations my mom had put up to create dancing rainbows on the wall.

I stared at the table, monotonously putting bites of cereal in my mouth, paying no attention whatsoever to anything around me. There was nothing about the day that had suggested it would be special: I was awoken rudely by the sun; I came down to my dad reading the newspaper and my mom reading a science magazine; I poured myself a bowl of cereal, barely saying anything.

"This is utter bull," Mom huffed, slapping her magazine closed with a crisp snap. "I can't believe the editors these days."

"Calm down Amelia," Dad said without looking up. I glanced, bleary-eyed, from one to the other, then back down.

Mom huffed, standing up. I took no notice. The table was quite interesting.

I was still lost in my thoughts minutes later when Mom called my name.

"Lailah. There's a letter for you."

That got my attention. I never get letters. Like, ever. I had an email, a phone, and numerous social media accounts. If anyone wanted to talk to me, there were easy ways to do so.

"Huh."

I stared at the piece of paper that Mom had placed in front of me. The letters were printed, crisp and small and perfect. And there was no return address.

With a raised eyebrow and a healthy dose of skepticism, I pulled at the edge, trying to be careful until it ripped a little too much, and then, throwing caution to the wind, I tore it open.

The first line caught my attention.

Please do not, under any circumstances, show this to anyone.

That caught my attention.

It's a miracle Mom and Dad couldn't hear my beating heart as I scanned the letter, stifling a gasp.

"What's it say?" Mom asked.

I shrugged, trying to stay casual. "It's from Angie." Angelina Lewis, my best friend. I have to tell her. "It's a stupid chainmail thing." This isn't happening.

Mom gave me a strange look. "There wasn't any return address."

"Yeah. She dropped it off in the mailbox." I shrugged again, feeling my heart beat faster. Don't call me out on it, please, please, please.

"Hmm." Mom looked back at the letter she was sorting through. I let out my breath slowly, feeling my stomach churn. It didn't matter that she wasn't paying enough attention to notice that there was a stamp, or that it was addressed to Delilah, not Lailah.

Step one, check.

"I'm going to go get dressed," I said, standing up with the letter tucked under my arm.

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I washed my bowl in record time. Each breath felt too fast, each heartbeat too loud.

When I arrived in my bedroom, I threw the envelope on my bed and started pacing, the letter clutched in my hand, my grip so tight the paper crinkled.

It was a Saturday morning. Angie had dance in half an hour. She'd be very annoyed with me if I called her now. Without a second thought, I pulled out my phone and dialed her number.

I watched anxiously as it rang for a second. The swarm of butterflies in my stomach doubled.

"Lailah!" When Angie's voice came over, some of the tension that had been holding me upright dissolved, and I collapsed onto the bed. Even if I couldn't see her wild hair and soulful eyes, hearing her voice calmed me.

"Angie-" I started.

"Lailah, is it a national emergency?" Someone was in a bad mood

"No, but - "

"I'm in the middle of stretching! Seriously?"

"Dance starts in an hour, why are you already stretching? Don't you have a whole class stretch?"

"Half an hour. And yes but that's not the point! You know I like to stretch on my own!"

"Can I finish?" I asked impatiently, sitting back up and tapping my foot against the ground.

"No, because I'm not done."

"Neither was I."

"Lailah, seriously - "

"I got a letter," I blurted out. "From the Academy."

There was dead silence. Then, "WHAT?"

"Shh!" I hissed.

"When? Why? Did you open it? What did it say?"

"One question at a time please!"

I could practically hear Angie rolling her eyes. "You're as excited about this as I am, so stop pretending Lai. What did it say?" I smiled at the nickname, feeling the tension leave my body as her voice can over the phone.

But I couldn't deny her words. A giant smile split open on my face. "It was " - I checked the time - "ten minutes ago. It just arrived in the mail."

"What did it say?" she repeated.

I let out a mock sigh. "Patience young padawan."

Angie let out a snort. "I swear to all that is Holy, if you don't tell me in the next thirty seconds I'm hanging up."

"Fine, fine, Miss Drama Queen." I cleared my throat and started reading before she could complain. " 'Dear Delilah Simons. Please do not, under any circumstances, show any this to anyone-"

"You've failed that already," Angie snorted.

"I didn't fail. It says not to show it to anyone, it says nothing about telling anyone. Besides, you already know about my you-know-what."

Angie sighed, shaking her head. "You're hopeless."

"Anyways," I drawled, "should I continue?"

"Yes."

" ' My name is Quintin Lacoss. As a co-director of the Academy of the Education of Gifted Individuals and Solivagants- ' "

"I still can't get over that name," Angie scoffed.

"Angie. Let me finish."

"Fine! Sorry."

" ' As co-director of the Academy of the Education of Gifted Individuals and Solivagants, it is my job to reach out to those who might require guidance with their gifts. It has come to our attention that you are a gifted; I'm sure I do not need to clarify what that means. We would like to offer you a spot at our school.' "

I continued reading, making my way through the overly-pompous and potentially life-changing letter.

We'd heard of the Academy. Everyone had. Tony Stark and SHIELD hadn't made any attempts to conceal what they were doing: a prestigious academy for only a select few. Never, though, did they say that it was for powered people.

" ' If, after this brief letter, you wish to know more about our offer, please call the number below. I hope that we will meet soon, Quinten Lacoss.' "

Angie was silent.

"So basically I'm invited to join a superhero school," I said nervously, letting out a laugh that sounded way too high-pitched to my ears.

"I just..." Angie trailed off. "Wow."

"I'm still kind of annoyed that they called me Delilah," I said, tilting my head at the letter. "If they know enough about me to know that I have a... an ability then why don't they know my name of preference?"

"I don't understand why you hate the name Delilah. It's so pretty. Don't you know what it means?"

"Yes, delicate. That's why I hate it."

"Another version of the name Lailah is sweetheart," Angie reminded me.

"Yeah but the main meaning is night." I sighed dreamily.

"Anyways," Angie said, "Is that all you're going to say about it?"

I blew out a breath. "I don't know. I..." I sighed. "You know sarcasm is my coping mechanism."

Ange let out a wry chuckle. "Oh yeah, I know."

"And... and it would mean giving up a lot."

"So? Isn't this what you've been wanting for years?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"It's your dream for something like this to happen! And you're just going to throw away your chance?"

"It was my dream. And you know why I gave it up, Angie," I said sharply, regretting the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. But I didn't apologize. I can't. Because if I gave her an inch - if I let myself think about the possibilities - then who knew what would happen. I gave it up for a reason.

"You aren't the same person you were two years ago," she said quietly.

"But I'm also not the same person I was four years ago, either."

"Obviously," she huffed. "You don't like Big Hero 6 anymore! It's a tragedy."

I couldn't help but giggle as I rolled my eyes. As I held in my sigh of relief. I could always count on Angie to lighten the mood. "It's a kid's movie, Angie."

"Are you not a child at heart?"

I paused. "Ummmm...."

We both laughed.

There was silence until Angie asked, "So are you going to do it?" Her voice was cautious as if she expected me to break or explode. I hated that voice.

"Angie...."

"I'm not going to pressure you into something you don't want to do," she said gently, and I nearly snorted. That wasn't very Angie-like. "But Lailah," of course there was a 'but Lailah', "are you really going to throw away this opportunity?"

"I don't know! It's such a big step! I just wanted to use my- my gift for something! I didn't want to be pulled into a school run by a secret spy organization."

"You. Have. An. Extremely. Powerful. Ability," Angie said as if I was stupid. "Of course they were going to notice you eventually!"

"I have homework though!" I burst out. There was silence. "And track. And debate. And Mom's fundraisers. And every other tiny little thing that occupies my time. I can't be a superhero - or- or a superhero is training- or whatever it's called!"

I hadn't realized my heart was racing until I took a deep breath to calm myself. Nor had I realized exactly how many reservations I had built up, how many excuses I had made to myself to try to dull the pain. To mute the constant repetition of 'coward' that chased me even as I slept, in a quiet voice that still sometimes appeared. I can't do this. I can't do this. I'm not a cautious person. I'm the one who dives over the edge before looking, the one who has the scars and the stories that make people wince. But there's too much of a risk.

"How many excuses am I going to have to wave away before you realize what you're doing? Lai, you're throwing away your shot. You can't do that."

"If I end up like Hamilton," I joked, "then my life has gone nowhere."

Angie didn't laugh. "I'm serious Lai."

My smile faded. "I can see that."

"You can't just throw this chance away."

"Yeah, I get that by now," I said sarcastically, flopping back onto my bed.

"You don't believe me." It wasn't a question.

"I'm just me!" I cried, throwing my arms up in the air. "Why would they want me with them?"

It was an ocean - an ocean of expectation from my parents that I knew I'd never live up to, an ocean of self-doubt and self-consciousness that was slowly drowning me. I can't do this. It was a barrier of weak excuses and gritted teeth that I had built up over these years that kept me from jumping off this cliff, the suffocating concern of everyone who was watching me, waiting for me to break. I can't. I can't. I can't.

Angie sighed. "Well for starters, you're powerful enough that you can float your phone in the air while you're on a call."

"So?" I muttered, watching the phone dance in front of me. The edges of my lips crept up. "I'm sure lots of super people can do that."

She rolled her eyes. "Hardy har har."

"I'm just a girl," I muttered, staring up at the ceiling. "And this is real. Like aliens and Avengers and gunfights real." There were little luminescent stars that I had added when I was younger. At night, they would glow up. I had stuck every single one up there. Back then, it all looked like a pattern. Now it looked like a jumble of random little lights. There was no pattern and no reason. No structure. I guess that's how I liked it. Is that why I'm so scared? Because it's something planned and organized? I brushed the thought away. If I started down that path - if I started wondering what was wrong with me, then I'd find myself so buried deep I'd drown in my thoughts. More than I was already drowning, at least.

"If I have to go through the whole 'supportive friend' speech, I'm going to kill you tomorrow. Get ahold of yourself Lailah. You know why you're special. I've told you enough times. You are you, no one else is, and that's why you're special. Now up, stop complaining, and help me start brainstorming what you're going to say when you respond to the only and best superhero school that exists."

"I guess it's my last day to live," I smirked. "You've already been through that speech."

"Lailah! Were you listening to me at all?"

"Yes," I said sincerely. "Angie... thanks. I mean it."

"You need to do this, Lailah," Angie said gently. "Just think about what you could do. You could change the world. Besides, it's just a phone call. Just call them."

I didn't say anything, staring wordlessly at the phone number that Quintin Lacoss had included at the bottom of the letter.

"Lailah?"

I'm not sure what changed. One moment I was sinking and the next I was standing strong. One moment my mind was clouded, and the next it was as clear as a summer day.

It was my dream for so long.

I gave it up for a reason.

Was it fate that the letter had arrived now? Or was it the universe's idea of a cruel joke?

There's too much to lose.

But I could gain everything I'd ever worked for if I just could break past this mental block that I had created.

I moved on.

But no, I hadn't. You can't ever extinguish a spark that bright.

All the what if's.

The 'I can't's.

The 'I won't's.

The risks.

Why not?

Why, for once, could I not do the one thing I'd been dreaming about?

I can.

What about the reward?

I can.

What about my dreams?

I can.

"Have fun at dance," I said, feeling my confidence growing as I said the words. "I have to hang up." A grin snaked its way onto my face. "I have a phone call to make."