Well. It was her job. And she was good at it.
“And at myself,” Nadia conceded. “For not being able to convince Monica to join G.I.R.L., to science for good.”
Dr. Sinclair nodded, a sympathetic smile on her face. “But you know that you can’t hold yourself responsible for other people’s decisions, even if you judge them to be poor decisions, right?”
“Right. Boundaries!” Nadia looked at the clock and immediately leapt off the squooshy couch. “Oh! I’ve kept you overtime again!”
With a laugh, Dr. Sinclair stood to let Nadia out of her sun-drenched office. “It’s okay. I like all the science facts. I feel like I learn something new every session.”
“Me too.” Nadia rushed forward and wrapped her therapist in a hug. “But I have a surprise party after this I can’t be late for.”
“A surprise party?” Dr. Sinclair squeezed Nadia’s shoulder affectionately, then pulled away. “For whom?”
Nadia grabbed her backpack off the couch and swung it over her shoulder, unlocking her phone. “Oh, it’s for me,” she answered, already half-distracted.
Dr. Sinclair laughed. “Not much of a surprise then, I guess. It’s not your birthday…?”
“No, no,” Nadia confirmed. “It’s my name day. It’s like a Russian birthday but for everyone named Nadia.* My friends think they’re being very sneaky, but, you know…”
“You’re a literal bug,” offered Dr. Sinclair.
“I’m a literal bug!” Nadia agreed, with enthusiasm. “Thank you for listening, as always. Same time next week?”
“Same time next week. You’re up to date on your prescriptions?”
Nadia waved and nodded as she bounded out of the room and into reception. “Enough for the next three months!”
Nadia burst out of the front door of her therapist’s office and into the brisk fall sunshine, popping in her earbuds as she walked. Therapy was still new to Nadia, but she found that she liked it. Well, maybe “liked” wasn’t quite the right word, though Nadia at least tried liking every new thing she did.
Therapy was interesting and challenging, gut-wrenching and exciting, helpful and devastating, sometimes all at once. An hour in Dr. Sinclair’s office could be uplifting and painful in equal measure, but it almost always helped. Nadia had been hesitant at first, but therapy was key to helping her put forth the best version of herself. And frankly, she hoped every Super Hero had a therapist, because they saw a lot of really weird stuff.
Mostly, though, Nadia relied on therapy to help her manage her bipolar disorder. Though she had never met her father, Nadia knew that they had many things in common. They both lived for the pursuit of knowledge. They both loved the original Wasp, Janet Van Dyne. They were both insect-based Super Heroes. And they were both prone to extremes that sometimes put those around them—and themselves—at risk.
Nadia was lucky. She had people in her life who loved her, and who recognized the symptoms. Nadia’s stepmom, Janet, had even introduced Nadia to Dr. Sinclair, a therapist who specialized in Super Heroes. She had come recommended to Janet by Silk—clearly the coolest of all the spider-people, in Nadia’s opinion. Truth be told, Silk was the only spider-person she got along with, really.
Not that it was difficult. It was a truth universally acknowledged that wasps and spiders didn’t mix, in most cases. Also, why were they all so sticky?
As she walked toward the nearest bus stop, Nadia hummed to herself. She walked in time to the music, her short brown bob and bangs swinging to the beat. Things were looking up.
Sure, Nadia had a lot going on right now. Monica had escaped, and A.I.M. was still out there. She was trying to keep on top of G.I.R.L. and her mental health. She really wanted to be a good friend and a good stepdaughter. And, you know, she was trying to learn how to be a Cool American Teen, too—whatever that meant. But Nadia was figuring it all out. She was happy to forget about all the tough stuff in her past and focus on all the tough-but-exciting things in front of her.
After all, she was the Unstoppable Wasp, and it was her name day. Could it really get any better than that?
* A really cool electrostatic generator that uses static electricity to make your hair stick straight out from your head. Looks like a big lowercase i.
* Nadia’s name was the only gift her mother had ever been able to give her, and Nadia thought it was quite a nice name, too. Nadia means “hope,” and if there was one thing that had propelled Nadia forward in all things, it was certainly hope.
Nadia stepped through the doors of Pym Laboratories as they slid open. Instead of the familiar bustle of personnel that seemed present at all hours, she found it suspiciously empty.
Or it would have been suspicious, if she hadn’t known exactly what was going on. Nadia took the elevator to the fourth floor and stepped out onto the landing she never, ever got tired of seeing. The massive Genius In action Research Labs logo hung proudly from the wall, visible the second you stepped off the elevator.
The program had been Nadia’s dream from the instant she discovered that S.H.I.E.L.D.’s official list of the world’s smartest people didn’t bother including a woman until the twenty-seventh spot. Twenty-seventh!
Nadia knew that was nonsense for a number of reasons, one of which was that she had personal experience with several of the people on that list, and she knew for a fact that she was smarter than they were. (Bruce Banner? Please. He wasn’t even the smartest Hulk.)
Aside from the inherent issues with using a standardized test to determine intelligence (a terrible method for determining intelligence, by the way—creativity is intelligence, and filling out tiny bubbles is not creative), it was also clear that S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn’t even bothering to seek out people to take the test unless they were men who were already inner-circle.
The world doesn’t need to be told that Tony Stark is smart. The world needs to be told that the sixteen-year-old girl in the tiny Brooklyn apartment she shares with her dad and who gets beat up every day on her walk home from school is actually secretly building a teleporter, and she got it to work. And that is the truth.