Identity

I was so glad to be able to get out of the house for an extended period of time that I was grateful to be going to the wedding. One of the Returned Rockefellers was getting remarried, and although he was a sexist jackass, I didn't even care. I was going to be able to get dressed up and actually socialize. There would be a good dinner, and even though the groom's son was as insufferable as he was, I'd even dance with him just for the sheer joy of getting to go someplace on a Saturday night again. I did scrape my hair back into a low chignon so that I wouldn't have to look at it. My old color would have looked smashing with the dress. The dress itself was gorgeous and I felt like a million bucks it it and the dainty shoes that went with it. The modest diamonds sparkled, I had the beautiful coat to wear, along with a pretty clutch, and I really enjoyed getting ready. I helped Deri with her hair, curling it and fluffing it out. The wedding ceremony was beautiful although a bit long, and as soon as the dinner was over, the vast acreage of cake cut and distributed, I pried myself free of my clingy parents and danced with anybody who asked. I was so starved for fun that I even chatted and danced with my former bullies. I felt like I wasn't sticking to my principles because they'd never apologized, but I didn't care much. And my life would be intersecting theirs in the future due to our families, so maybe it was time to be the bigger person. Or so I rationalized.

Conversation was light on the way home; we remarked about the lovely service, the tasty dinner, the band; even the cake had been pretty good. "I saw you dancing with Rick Henshaw," Mom said, frowning. "Wasn't he one of the ringleaders of the bullies at your old school? Did he apologize for his conduct?"

"Yes and no," I said.

"Lysippe, he owes you an apology," she said firmly. "You should not be rewarding their treatment of you."

"That reception was stuffed full of people I shouldn't speak to, then," I said tensely. "Nobody's apologized, and I'm damned if I'm going to miss out on the only social activity I've been allowed for months."

"You're exaggerating," Dad said, unwisely.

"I'm not," I snapped. "Since the Joker resurfaced, I can row, I can go to work, I can go to school. That's it. I can't go on dates, I can't hang out with my friends unless they come out, I couldn't even go to the Winter semiformal dance at school. So excuse me for not wanting to sit on the sidelines waiting for apologies that are never going to come when I could have the most fun I've had in weeks."

"I don't see your friends very much," Dad said, glossing over the content of what I'd said, just like he did before therapy when he didn't want to acknowledge that I had something valid to say that he didn't want to hear.

"They get to go about their lives," I said bitterly. "They can go to movies and have ice cream and hot chocolate and go window shopping and do their hobbies and go on dates and go to work. Even Jinx is back in school and doing things on his own."

"Lys, it's not unreasonable for us to want you to be safe..." Dad started off on his usual stale speech, and I tuned him out, looking out the window. I didn't pay attention again until Deri touched my arm.

"What?" I asked.

"Have you been listening to what I'm saying?" Dad asked in exasperation.

"Did you say anything new?" He turned red. "I'll take that as a no, then. Why should I listen to the same old tired justifications?" The pod pulled up at the mansion and I hopped out the instant it came to a complete stop.

"Daniel, no," I heard Mom say, and Deri hurried to catch up.

"Did they really let Jinx out?" Deri said as we went upstairs.

"Yeah, he's got a panic button but that's about it."

"Unreal," she said as we went down the hall. "And we're still cooped up here? That really isn't fair." I just shook my head and we parted ways at our bedrooms. I admired the coat and dress again briefly and examined both to make sure that there wasn't any damage. The coat was perfect, but I'd sweated while dancing and it would have to be cleaned before I could put it away. The shoes were a real disappointment, showing wear where the top part tucked between the sole and the insole, and the heels were even run down. After only one night! So much for quality.

Then I buckled down to study for finals, and when that was over, picked up a couple of extra shifts at work. They weren't easy to come by, most people wanted the extra money. I was just desperate to be out of the house. I went by the sporting goods store on the way home one night and stocked up on clay targets and shotgun shells; I spent most of my time on the estate shooting when there was light, learning cooking from Alfred (he was right about the cooking skills, easy to learn, going to take some time and practice to perfect, especially the knife skills), and up in my sewing room during the evening. I'd bought a couple of patterns and was modifying them to make some unique blouses and a couple of shirt dresses. It wasn't easy, I felt like I had a headache a lot which was distracting. I took to lifting weights at night a couple hours before bedtime to let off some tension, and there was rowing first thing in the morning, at least.

Christmas came at last; I'd had to buy all my presents online and have them shipped. I resented not being able to go to the stores and browse, enjoying the sights and sounds of the holiday. The presents were generic, something anybody could have gotten, and not up to my usual standards. I didn't care much aside from for Deri's present; I'd have liked to done better for her, but at least it was unique, a white blouse she could wear with her uniform that had white embroidery between the buttonholes and on the cuffs, which wasn't strictly against the school rules, mainly because they were silent about decoration that wasn't contrasting. The dress code just said that the shirts had to be button-front and white, no colors allowed. Opening the presents was quieter than usual, and while they were nice, I just wasn't feeling the Christmas spirit. I took my stuff up afterward and stayed in my room until it was time for our guests to show up. Aunt Amy was the first to arrive, and I didn't want to let go from the hug; she'd been on a work exchange in Germany where she'd learned about managing forests in a program that had been successful for centuries. She showed up with Grandpa Mark, a surprise guest since he'd been working on a product launch in the Philippines and had said he wouldn't be back in time. There wasn't much time to chat, though, as uncles and aunts and grandparents and cousins also started coming in waves. I hadn't seen Miles and Iris for months.

"What happened to your hair, Lys?" Iris asked, surprised.

"Dad pressured me into coloring it so it's not so distinctive," I said. "I refused to cut it, though."

"Why would you cut it?" she asked blankly.

"He and Uncle Tony said it would be easier for somebody to grab." She rolled her eyes.

"That's ridiculous. I'm glad you refused. You have pretty hair." Then there were other relatives to greet, there was the really nice surprise that Dari and Z had come home for Christmas at last, and I played at being a good host until Alan and Alfred announced dinner.

"What have you been doing on vacation, honey?" Grandpa Damian asked after we'd been seated. "I haven't seen you for quite awhile."

"I get to row for an hour, six days a week," I said precisely, adding some Waldorf salad to my plate and passing the bowl to him. "I go to school when it's in session, and I get to go to work all day either Saturday or Sunday, and I have two four hour shifts twice a week. Otherwise I'm here."

"Wait, what?" Grandpa Mark said, pausing as he was forking stuffed pork roast onto his plate. "What about your tennis? When do you do things with your friends?"

"I can't go play tennis, the club that has indoor facilities is just an inflatable dome over outside courts, and Mom and Dad think it's not safe enough. I don't get to do anything with my friends unless they come out here."

"What do you do all day, then?" Grandpa Damian asked.

"I have to take SAT prep online because there's no security at the school during the physical class, so there's that. And I'm sewing. Lifting weights. And there's a skeet range."

"I'd forgotten about that," Grandpa Mark said. "But why don't your friends come out the way they used to?"

"Because they're allowed to do things," I said, resentment coloring my voice. "Even Jinx is back to school, back at work. They're busy. They have jobs. They can go out on dates, they can go to movies and just hang out." Grandpa Mark frowned. Grandpa Damian didn't say anything.

And that was the last I really said during dinner. My attitude put a bit of a damper on the table's conversation, and the others spoke about current events, mostly. I felt a little bad that I wasn't being a more considerate host, but I was angry all the time and I just didn't have it in me to exert myself. It was partly Grandpa Damian's fault that I was in this situation to begin with, the Joker was a Batman problem and none of them had fixed it.

Dessert was a croquembouche for each table draped in golden caramel floss and small chocolate eclairs. The desserts cheered me up slightly and I circulated among the guests afterward until they headed for home. It never took long; everybody always wanted to digest in the comfort of their own homes where they could just sit pretty much in a stupor until the food coma wore off. I liked to do that too, and even the presence of my favorite cousins didn't change my mind, really. After the door closed on the last of the group, I headed upstairs for knit clothes with a lot more give in them. I'd changed into a black sweatshirt and yoga pants with thick warm socks and was contemplating a climb out the window--maybe not, though, I didn't have the focus I felt I needed to climb to the roof--when the computer chimed. "Miss Lys, Miss Deri requests that you meet her quietly in the kitchen," it said.

"Ok," I said, and padded out the door and down the back stairs. Deri was standing in the dark kitchen and held her finger to her lips. I nodded, and followed her into the butler's pantry, where she carefully opened the door to the library.

"--can't keep them prisoners here indefinitely," Aunt Amy said flatly.

"Lys especially has had a hard enough time the past year or two," Grandpa Mark said. "She's finally found her place at school and activities that she can do and is good at, and you're deliberately preventing her from doing them."

"The girls aren't prisoners, they're just restricted here when they're not in safe places. It's for her own good, Dad," Dad said stubbornly.

"Is it, though?" Grandpa asked. "She said that even the Joker's son is back at school, out of hiding, resuming his life. Why is Lys still shut up here? It really isn't fair. And your decisions seem arbitrary to her. She's extremely resentful."

"Don't I just know it," Dad muttered. Then we heard something in the hall, and I closed the door carefully; we ducked around the shelf to press against the wall. The person continued on down the hall without breaking step or hesitating at the door, and when we heard the footsteps go into the library, we opened the door again.

"--why Deri gets to do most of her activities and Lys does not?" Grandpa asked.

"Because Alan has to drive Deri and he can only be in one place at a time," Mom said, settling on the sofa with Dad. "Lys has her pod, which can protect her quite well on the road, but it can't do anything when she's indoors someplace. Work is risky enough."

"Let me ask you this," Aunt Amy said. "Has anybody seen the Joker at all, have there been any credible leads?"

"No, and it's very frustrating," Dad said.

"Have you considered that maybe he isn't back at all? The only evidence you have is what Ivy said. Have you considered that Harley might have dumped her and this is Ivy's method of payback? It puts heat on Harley, police attention, and as an added bonus, she knows that this kind of news is going to be disruptive for both the police and the costumed crime fighters. It interferes with Harley's relationship with her son." There was dead silence in the library and I looked over at my little sister; her eyes were practically popping out of her head. Mine too. I knew that I'd never thought that.

"No. I had not considered that at all," Dad said shortly after quite a pregnant pause.

"Then talk it over with Dick," Grandpa said. "If this is just a hoax, it's cruel to keep the girls isolated out here."

"We shall do that," Mom said. "I would love to have my happy daughters back. Lys will barely speak with us and Deri does only because the silence is deafening otherwise."

"Even if the Joker's reappearance can't be ruled out a hundred percent, absent a clearly defined threat, you need to let Lys get back to normal, son." Grandpa said, and his tone was definitely judgey. "You overreacted, and I don't understand why you won't talk with your daughters and listen to what they have to say. I did my best to ask questions and listen to you, especially after your mom died. And you shouldn't have pressured her to change her hair. It's important for kids her age to be able to express themselves, and you've closed off most of the avenues she has for self-expression. She still refuses to go back on social media, she can't pursue her photography, her passion now that ballet's off the table, you won't let her play tennis, you limit her time at the rowing club, and I understand--not from Lys--that it's doubtful that she can take the summer classes you promised she could. Deri's worried that she can't go to camp this summer. She'd like to try out for the track team this spring and dreads asking for permission. She's already worried about next school year, too; starting high school is stressful enough without worrying about whether she'll be allowed to fully participate."

"Has Lys talked to Dinah lately?" Aunt Amy said. "I'm worried about her. She's so angry and she doesn't really seem to have a way of dealing with it."

"Lys did talk to Dinah, but it wasn't productive; Lys didn't get the response she wanted, which was that we were being overly protective," Dad said, and I scowled. Deri took my hand silently.

"Did Dinah help her find outlets for her emotions, constructive ways to deal with the pressure, or did she think Lys was overreacting too?" Aunt Amy pressed sharply. The silence spoke volumes. "Damn it, Dan, I really thought you were making progress after your family therapy. You're back to not hearing what doesn't suit you. If you don't want to drive Lys away, you need to buck up. You're not Batman anymore, the one with all the answers. You have to consider what your kids are going through and how to help them. Because I will tell you this, I didn't come back until I was sure my parents weren't around. If they had been, I'd still be in the Pacific Northwest and nobody the wiser about my existence. Well, I would have contacted Marky-Mark eventually." Through the door I could see Grandpa smile at his sister and pat her shoulder. "My parents' attitudes and expectations and inflexibility ensured that at the end, I didn't love them, let alone like them. The girls have already refused to return to Themyscira. If you don't want your kids to stay at least a continent away from you when they're on their own, you'd better straighten up."

"Dammit, Amy--" Dad snapped, and Deri carefully closed the door and we crept out, back up the stairs. I'd heard a lot more than I'd expected to. It was kind of infuriating that my parents wouldn't listen to me, but they'd pay attention to other adults. But I was deeply grateful that there were adults who were willing to go to bat for me and Deri.

"So what do you want to try out for?" I asked Deri curiously as we walked down the hall to our rooms.

"I'm thinking longer distances, I'm not really a sprinter," she said. "Maybe something that I could get on a relay team."

"What about javelin?" I asked. "You were good at that on the island."

"You think so?" she said, perking up.

"Yeah, General Antiope said so," I said, and followed her into her room. We went onto her school's website to the team pages and looked at the offerings. They had races from 100 to 1500 meters, two hurdles, high jump, pole vault, javelin, shot put, hammer, discus, long jump, and triple jump. My sister did have have gifts that the Amazons valued a lot, and I was sure that she could draw on that early training to be successful in middle school track and field. And with experience she could also try out in high school, more confident with success. And Van wanted to try out for shorter distance races, the sprints, so this was something they could both do but not compete head to head in.

I hadn't actually talked to my sister in awhile, I realized. She was looking forward to high school. As far as I knew, she was going to go to my old prep school, and why not? Not to be snarky, but everybody loved her. She was really popular and my disgrace had barely brushed her. She'd do well there, getting a fitting education for the next head of Wayne Enterprises. "I thought about asking if I could go to a different school too," she said, not looking at me. "Would you mind if I was at your school next year? It sounds like so much fun."

I thought about it. I'd be a senior, she'd be a freshman, it was unlikely that we'd have any classes together, and I had my friends, she'd find her own. And even if she was as popular as she probably would be, I'd only be overshadowed for part of the year. Even Deri needed time to get traction. "It is fun," I said. "I like it a lot better than prep school. Why not?" I grinned. "You just want to ditch the uniform, anyway."

"It's not just that," she protested, and we both laughed. It had been a long time since I'd found anything funny enough to laugh at.