Free Supergirl by Norma Fox Mazer Page B

down a cub scout troop. Still brooding sensitively, he reproached a crippled pedestrian caught mid-street by a red light. "Get your stupid, defective self the bloody hell out of the street, you retarded donkey's ears."
    So. Selena suffering. Nigel depressed. And Ethan? Staggering down the highway as cars roared past, he narrowly missed being hit at least ten times. Ethan was in a daze.
    And Supergirl—where was she, and how was she? To be truthful, for Supergirl, she was discouraged. One might even say, monstrously discouraged. She had not located the Omegahedron. She flew lower and lower; when last seen, she was flying into one end of a large conduit. Moments later, Linda Lee crawled out the other end, smoothed down her hair, brushed off her hands, and headed briskly down the road.

Chapter Twelve
    There was something about Jimmy Olsen, cub reporter, that brought out both the tender and the tiger in Lucy. Something about the way his shirt was nearly always spotted with food, how sometimes there was even a nip of hamburger or a dollop of ketchup in his hair, and how he would gaze at her with those baby browns, those little shy, squinchy brown eyes that looked out at the world with the greedy innocence of a child convinced it is the center of heaven and earth.
    Oh, yes, Lucy had found herself thinking when she saw that brown, innocently greedy gaze turned on her, oh, yes, Jimmy Olsen, you ARE the center of the world, the center of MY world. But, actually, what Lucy usually said was more along the line of, "You wanna get tacos or fried chicken? You wanna go to Popeye's or the El Hambra Hut?"
    And after thinking it over for four or five minutes, Jimmy would come to a snap decision. "Popeye's. I want some of that good Southern-fried chicken."
    Popeye's it was. Anything Jimmy wanted . . . Popeye's was jammed with kids listening to rock music and eating fried chicken. Lucy hoped Linda Lee would show up at Popeye's, too, but she wasn't counting on it. As she told Jimmy, she couldn't quite figure Linda Lee out. Sweet girl, easy to live with, and Lucy felt sorry for her on two counts—no parents, and Lucy's being her only real friend. But . . . "She's kind of a babe in the woods," Lucy confided to Jimmy. "I have to watch out for her. You better be nice to her," she added (tigerishly).
    Jimmy fiddled with the camera hanging around his neck. That Lucy . . . he just couldn't help being crazy about her. That mop of curly hair . . . that determined expression on her sweet little face . . . the way she clenched her fists . . . "Golly, Lucy, sure, I'll be nice to her."
    Lucy patted Jimmy's arm reassuringly. "I knew you would be," she said (tenderly now). "I just can't help worrying about Linda Lee."
    "That's because—" Jimmy looked down, then up at the ceiling, then out the window (anywhere, in fact but at Lucy) "—because you're so—you know—so—"
    "So—so what? "
    "So . . . so . . ."
    Bouncing on her toes, Lucy sent mental telegrams to Jimmy to help him finish his sentence. Jimmy, how about YOU'RE SO WONDERFUL
    STOP I LOVE YOU STOP JIMMY? Or YOU'RE SO FABULOUS STOP I LOVE YOU STOP JIMMY? Like either one? No? Try YOU'RE SO FANTASTIC STOP I LOVE YOU STOP JIMMY.
    The rest of their gang, in the booth, started yelling their fried chicken orders over to Jimmy. "Hey, Olsen, get me the Fried Chicken Supreme . . . I want a Double Special Fried Chicken with Double Slaw . . ."
    Lucy flapped her hands at them. Shut up, you guys! Judging by the shine in Jimmy's eyes, which finally discovered her face, it seemed he was right on the verge of saying something important.
    "Lucy . . ."
    "Yes, Jimmy?"
    "Golly, Lucy. . . I really recommend Chicken Wings Supremo. I'll go get the orders."
    This put Lucy in a fairly vicious mood. "Oh, sugar!" she exclaimed, under her breath. Fortunately, a moment later, her good spirits were restored by seeing Linda Lee entering Popeye's. She stood in the doorway, looking like a little well—not exactly little —lost