The Descendant

Aunt Amy came down in time for breakfast, which I got to myself because Deri hadn't thought far enough ahead. Mom and Dad came down toward the end, and it was settled that Aunt Amy was going to come into the city with us so that she could poke around. Deri and I had ballet practice after school, which was a source of frustration, but Aunt Amy would come pick us up and bring us home. So I had something else to talk about at school; Mom had mailed the invitations for my birthday party earlier in the week but wouldn't tell me anything about it. I couldn't decide whether to be a little apprehensive or thrilled, but at one point I wasn't sure it I'd have a party at all, so I was going with thrilled. She'd even taken me to a dressmaker to be measured for a custom dress the week before. Mom thought that the parties I'd been to were too extravagant for a kid, but she also knew how important the party was for me. It would be a way of paying back the classmates who'd thought to invite me to their parties, and... deep in my heart, it meant a lot that Mom would listen to what I liked. I often felt like she didn't; everybody talked about the strength of her compassion, but it felt like it was directed outward at everybody else. This would prove me wrong. My friends listened avidly to the story of my returned aunt and we discussed it at lunch. After school, Alan picked me up to go to ballet. I wish I could just take the bus or subway like a normal kid.

We were starting to polish our performance; the spring recital was coming up fast, in mid-May; the piece we were working on was shorter and less complex than for the winter recital because we had less time to prepare for it. Kids had vacations or jobs or summer camps starting right after the schools let out for summer break, and for the first time, I wouldn't be going to the island. I was going to stick to my guns on this one, and I was researching places to submit job applications on the theory that my parents were less likely to make me quit if I wasn't working for the family business or a friend of the family. But despite my anxiety to get the class over with so we could talk to Aunt Amy some more, I enjoyed the dancing. I was gaining confidence as my technique improved. I had a different partner for this dance, a modern composition called "Le Reve," which was, as you'd expect, dreamy, graceful, and gentle. It also had a lot of lifts, so I was glad that Brian was my partner. He was a nice guy and never complained if we made a mistake. The choreography was easy to learn; the proper expression and technique was the hard part. For as easy as the basic steps were, it was technically demanding.

Aunt Amy was there when I emerged from the dressing room; she'd watched both Deri and me practice. She'd had to watch me through the door, since unlike younger kids, parents were banned from the studio while we practiced because we needed both to focus and also use the whole room. She was really complementary and asked us both questions about practice, our school, and our other activities. It was the most fun I'd had in the car that I could remember.

That weekend, we had a picnic at the house to introduce Aunt Amy to the rest of the family. It was nice to hang out with the cousins, some of whom I didn't see much because we all went to different schools. Iris was there, and she told me about college. She was still living at home because there wasn't any housing available on campus, but she'd be moving there fall semester. It sounded really exciting, but it was still a disappointing three years away for me. On the other hand, maybe I'd find out what I wanted to study by then. On the other, maybe I'd hold off on college in order to dance. There was yummy food prepared by both Alan and Alfred and everybody just kind of hung out, talking. I got to see grandparents and aunts and uncles that I didn't see much too, and collected hugs and answered questions. I kept my distance from Grandpa Bruce, though, even though I'd pulled up biology to a B, just in case it was still substandard in his opinion.

The two weeks passed quickly, and before long Aunt Amy had to go back to work. She promised that she'd come out for my birthday, though. After that, I just had a couple more weeks to wait, and spent it studying, going on a few dates, doing things with my friends, and at Anabel's party. The week before the party, Mom took me to the dressmaker's. I was a little disappointed; I thought that I'd be getting a dress, but it was a navy suit instead. I thought it was an indicator that I was ready to get a job, though. I didn't want to wear a dress I'd worn to somebody else's party, so I hit the attic again. All the beautiful clothes were gone to the Costume Institute; all that was left were replicas and pieces that were too ordinary to be of interest to them. So the selection was narrow, and I was hindered by not knowing anything about my party. But I found a pretty floral cotton dress that should be fairly appropriate; it had short sleeves, a scoop neckline, and a skirt that flared out prettily and ended a couple inches above my knees. I'd spent most of my savings on presents for all the parties I'd gone to, and I'd spent a lot on my friends, but I didn't regret it. I had a pair of white eyelet low wedges that looked good with it. It didn't even require a lot of work to make the bust fit; I could get away with pressing the seams in and carefully tacking them down. It took awhile to do so that it was satisfactory, but it was worth it. I took special are with my appearance.

I was sent away on an 'errand' before the party that didn't fool anybody, and Alan returned me to the house. My pleasure faded to apprehension; we'd only been gone for about an hour, and I knew for a fact that nothing had been going on before I left. Alan directed me out back, where my appearance was greeted with a tepid "Happy Birthday" cheer from my friends and classmates. I looked around; it was the same garden as usual, set up like it had been for the party for Aunt Amy. With the addition of some balloons around the cake that Alan had made. My classmates were disgruntled, and barely waited for me to cut the cake before making their excuses and leaving. It was as close to a stampede as they could get away with. Most of the gifts were store credit to the venerable favorites Starbucks and Amazon, even from my best friends. Only the presents from my relatives were personal. I was dazed.

"That was nice," I heard my mother telling my dad. Nice, because the kids didn't hang around much.

The indications of how big a disaster it was for me started rolling in early. The boy I was supposed to go out with that night canceled. No reason. By the time my relatives left, I'd been disinvited to almost all of the parties I'd been asked to attend. I had no idea what I was saying to anybody, but before Iris and Miles left, she hugged me and said sorry. All of the cousins were uneasy, knowing what was in store for me.

When everybody had left but Deri, Mom, Dad, Aunt Amy, and Grandpa, Mom turned to me with a smile. "Happy birthday, Lys," she said, and handed me a box that I took with numb fingers. It was from Themyscira, a necklace made of pearls. And not pretty pearls like you see in the stores, they were baroque, misshapen, only a rough match on size and there had been no attempt to match for color. I looked up at her, utterly stunned. The other presents were clothes, except Deri had gotten me a pretty silver chain with a pointe shoe on it. Grandpa had gotten me little diamond earrings, and Aunt Amy a pretty black opal ring that had a lot of strong colors in it. Everybody but Mom was looking a little apprehensive.

"What do you think, Lys?" Mom prompted me. I looked up at her, kind of at a loss for words.

"It was a lovely party for the family," I managed to say.

Deri rolled her eyes. "It was a disaster," she said to Mom matter of factly. "I've already had texts from people in my class asking if it was really that bad." Mom was really offended and asked me what the problem was. It had been an appropriate party for a teenager, in her opinion.

"Every party I went to was over the top, really fun. You could tell that there had been a lot of planning involved," I said after a moment. "The kind of parties that are so good that the problem is getting people to go when time was up. It's a big deal, the first time you get any legal rights. It's expected that all the parties are going to be really something special. This... " I shook my head.

"The expense is unreasonable simply for one birthday," Mom said stubbornly. "It's wasteful."

I shook off the dullness as my communicator announced the arrival of another text asking me if the party had been a joke, asking why my parents didn't care enough to throw me a decent party. "It's expected," I said, tears of rage starting. "I've already been disinvited to every party other than Eleanor's. People are asking why you couldn't be bothered to make an effort for me. My dates have been broken. I'm a joke. Excuse me." I got up and ran inside the house, and out the front door. I needed to hide before I did something like explode from rage or turn into a sobbing quivering jelly on the floor.

I went back to the house much later, sneaking in the side door with the intent to go up the back stairs unseen, when I heard the conversation from the dining room. "--if that's your idea of a suitable Sweet Sixteen party, I don't want one," my sister snapped. "You've made Lys a laughing stock, and me too, by extension. I'll escape pretty much unscathed, but Lys's life is ruined. You don't pay any attention when she tried to explain, several times, why this party was so important to her. And Dad, why didn't you get involved? You know what kids are like, it'll be like Lord of the Flies on Monday."

"Your mom said she had it handled--" Dad started, then broke off when I stepped on the squeaky stair by accident. Shit. "Lys?" he popped out of the dining room. Shitshit. He frowned in concern when he saw me. "Come in here, honey. Are you ok?" I gave him a look of disbelief.

"Lysippe, your father asked you a question," Mom said sternly.

"No, Father, I am not ok," I shot at her, and held out my communicator. "Read my texts and see if you think I should be ok." He took it and opened the text program. There were a lot of shit emojis attached to the descriptions of the party. The comments were hurtful, the kindest said that no wonder I wasn't more popular; even my parents didn't like me enough to throw me a proper party, that there was something wrong with me that I couldn't even operate a pod which was why I got lame presents.

"Lys, honey, come sit by me," Aunt Amy said, patting the chair that Grandpa vacated. "It's been awhile since I was in high school. Tell me what your friends' parties were like." So I told her what they'd been like, that the parents provided a bash that reflected their kids' interests--for example, Hope wanted to go to film school, so her parents had given her a red-carpet party. They'd gone to extreme lengths to make the celebrations memorable and special. Sure, a good part of it was keeping up with the Joneses, but they also had done it specifically for their kids because they could.

"Some of the girls got their first couture dresses for the occasion," I said, rubbing my scorching eyes. "I've spent most of my money on presents for the parties, so I didn't have anything that I hadn't worn to somebody else's party. I got this out of the attic." I plucked my skirt.

"Good lord," Aunt Amy said, sounding startled. "That looks like one of mine. Haven't the attics been cleaned out?"

"All the good stuff was just donated to the museum," I said, sagging. I was exhausted and dreading having to go back to school. She put her arm around me and I dropped my head to her shoulder.

"Aw, that's too bad. I loved playing dress-up," she said wistfully.

"I don't understand why this happened," Grandpa said, puzzled. "Dan, this type of conspicuous consumerism was going on even in my day, especially in our economic bracket. We've certainly got the money for over the top parties for our special girls."

"Money isn't everything," Mom snapped. "It should be enough that she was surrounded by her friends and family."

I snorted. "Former friends," I said acidly. "You've torched my social life. People will bringing this up at every class reunion until I die. If you think the way of life that's associated being a Wayne is so superficial and you're so superior, why did you even bother marrying Dad? You sure enjoy the beautiful clothes and the jewelry that Dad's given you--it's not at all like Grandpa Damian's presents to Grandma Alex, but then he's not burning through the fortune of a supervillain, either--but you seem determined to keep me at the pathetic end of the social spectrum. Even the social climbers at school dress better than me. All the kids are getting pods, Marcus Claiborne's dad is pulling down a building a block over from school so that kids can take their pods to school. I can't even take public transportation, instead I have to be driven around once we get into the city. I have no independence and no respect. You keep dragging me to that horrible island for the summers where I'm not tough enough and have no useful skills to help out there. Everybody might think you're this big fount of compassion and love, Wonder Woman, but you spend it everywhere but with me." I was so angry, I pounded my fist on the table. "And Dad's pussy-whipped, won't say boo to you. What I was really hoping for with this party was that you would have listened to me for once and done something that showed you cared. Instead...."

The silence was supreme.

"Wonder Woman?" Deri said. "What the hell?"

"Yeah, you weren't supposed to know because you can't keep a secret," I said.

"Lysippe--" Mom barked.

"But you know what?" I told Deri. "You did find out once before, on the island. Loose lips. Mom wasn't around. They panicked, and Menalippe produced some water from the river Lethe, gave you a few drops, and assisted by Athena, modified your memory so that you'd forget the name of the islands, that they're inhabited by Amazons, that Mom's one of them, all about her parentage, and most specifically, that she plays at being Wonder Woman, spreading the Amazon gospel of love, respect, and justice. To be fair, she was mad when she found out what they'd done, but I'm not sure that it wasn't because they didn't get her consent first." During this, my sister's face went white, then red with anger.

Oh, what a fuss that stirred up. Mom had to try to explain to Dad why the memory modification wasn't a big deal--"but it kind of was," I said 'helpfully.' "Menalippe said that even a little too much would erase her entire memory. That's why she entreated Athena to help." And that caused even more of an uproar. I left. Why should my life be the only one in ruins?