The day started normal.
Well… as normal as Ridgewood High gets when half the school thinks a real-life superhero is walking among them.
But everything changed when the morning announcements played over the intercom—loud, staticky, and with more enthusiasm than necessary.
"Good morning, Ridgewood!" came the voice of Principal Karen Rooney, Liv and Maddie's mom.
"This Friday is our annual Ridgewood Talent Show! If you sing, dance, juggle, recite slam poetry, or do magic with ferrets—this is your moment to shine!"
Half the cafeteria groaned. The other half—mostly theater kids and TikTok dancers—cheered.
Karen's voice continued:
"Sign-ups are open in the front office! Don't miss your chance to show Ridgewood what you're made of! And yes, students AND staff may participate…"
"Did she say staff?" Joey muttered. "Because I'm not emotionally ready to watch Mr. Weinberg do interpretive dance again."
Across the room, Liv lit up like Christmas.
"This is perfect," she said, eyes glowing. "I have to write a song."
I blinked. "Didn't you just release a single last week?"
"No, Aiden," she said with dramatic flair, "not just any song. A new song. Something meaningful. Something that captures what everyone's feeling right now."
Maddie raised an eyebrow. "You mean the whole 'Hooded Saviour' thing?"
Liv gave her a "duh" look. "Obviously. He saved me. He saved Carly. He's out there, watching over us. He deserves a song."
Joey leaned over to me, whispering, "Called it."
Later that day, the sign-up sheet went live.
By third period, Liv had already written half a ballad and was humming it under her breath in study hall.
Maddie?
She stood in the corner by the lockers, arms crossed, watching everyone fill out their names.
Watching me.
I casually passed the list without touching it.
"Not performing?" she asked.
"Don't have the flair," I said coolly. "Plus, I don't juggle flaming swords or play sad acoustic covers of Green Day."
Maddie didn't laugh.
She was still studying me.
Still trying to figure me out.
After school, Joey caught up to me by the exit.
"So," he said, bouncing on his heels, "I may have… hypothetically… signed up."
"For what?"
"The Falcon. Comedy act. Stand-up. Maybe some impressions."
I blinked. "Wait—you're going on stage as The Falcon?"
He smirked. "Are you kidding? That jacket? That name? I am the brand now."
"Does your dad know?"
"He will when I'm holding a mic and making fun of his morning stretches."
I stopped and looked at him.
"You do realize," I said, "that you and I are the only two people in this school who are actual geniuses, right? Not just smart. I mean proper geniuses."
Joey paused. The usual humor in his face faded for just a moment.
"Yeah," he said. "I know."
"We could build tech that'd make the government nervous," I added. "We could solve problems this school hasn't even learned how to define yet."
Joey looked at me, then grinned. "Which is exactly why I'm using it to roast Dad on stage."
I shook my head with a laugh. "You're a madman."
"No," he corrected. "I'm The Falcon."
As we parted ways, I spotted Maddie near the outdoor bleachers, alone. Her arms were folded, and her eyes were locked on Liv in the distance, who was rehearsing a melody to herself.
I walked over slowly.
"You know," I said, "Liv can sing… but so can you."
She turned to look at me, surprised. "What?"
"You've got a voice. Maybe not trained like hers, but it's there. Strong. Raw."
Maddie scoffed, "I'm not the 'microphone-and-lights' type. I'm the basketball-and-sweat type. That's Liv's thing."
I shrugged. "Sure. But maybe, just for one night, it could be both your thing."
She gave me a look, skeptical.
"You and your sister—on stage together? Think about it. The popstar and the powerhouse. A dynamic duo. Harmony meets hustle."
She blinked. That got to her.
"I know it's not your usual court," I said, softer now, "but maybe… just this once, you step into hers. She'd love it. And honestly? So would the rest of the world."
Maddie didn't respond right away.
But she didn't walk away either.
And that was enough.
Later that afternoon, the auditorium buzzed with the usual pre-show chaos—mic feedback, loose cables, and frantic sound checks.
Liv stood center stage with her band.
Holden Dippledorf adjusted his guitar strap with surgical precision, while Andie Gustamante scrolled through the setlist on her phone, tapping her foot in rhythm.
They were mid-rehearsal. Liv was singing light and emotional. Holden played gentle chords. Andie hummed the harmony.
Backstage, Maddie hovered out of sight.
She wasn't in costume. No mic. Just herself. But her eyes were focused—calm, maybe even brave.
I watched from the shadows, arms crossed.
Then she stepped forward.
Walked onto the stage.
Cleared her throat.
"What if I sang this part?"
Everything froze.
Holden stopped playing mid-strum.
Andie looked like she'd just seen a ghost.
Liv?
She smiled instantly.
Like she knew this was coming.
"I was hoping you'd say that," Liv said, beaming as she handed Maddie the second mic.
Maddie stepped up beside her, took a breath—and sang.
Her voice was steady, deeper than Liv's, rougher, but strong. Real.
Holden raised his eyebrows.
Andie mouthed, "Whoa."
Liv just stood beside her, smiling like her heart had been waiting for this moment forever.
From the back row, I smiled.
Dynamic duo.
Just like I said.