I have a confession to make.

I'm the one who did it.

Now if you don't know what "it" is, you probably haven't been watching the news. Not that I blame you. I didn't use to watch the news either. But things have changed since then. Big things. Huge things. Things that I would never have imagined could happened. It's almost funny now, looking back on it.

Two weeks ago, if you were to ask me what the worst thing to ever happen to me was I probably would have said that it was that I didn't have a room all to myself. Or maybe I would have told you that story of the one time I broke my arm when I was five. Since then I have been chased, shot at, and hit by a car. I have put explosives in one of the most iconic buildings in the United Stated, and then proceeded to blow it up. So, yeah, you could say that my life has changed more than a little.

But, you're probably getting confused.

Lets start at the beginning. That first day that it all happened. The day that my world didn't just flip upside down, it decided to go for a ride on Space Mountain and then to actual space.

"Please. Please. Please. Please. Please." I begged dragging out the last please.

My mother looked at me skeptically. "I'm not sure if you're ready Paige." She said. "Going to trip, even on a school trip, is a big thing. I'm not sure if you can handle it."

"I can handle it." I reassured her. "I can be responsible."

My father laughed, probably because, at the moment, I sounded like a little girl. I wasn't trying to sound little. I was trying to sound mature. The fact that I sounded three years younger than I was was not a good thing.

"I know that you can be responsible." Said my mother. "The question is will you be responsible."

"Yes." I said, trying not to sound like a little girl. "I'll be one hundred percent mature adult."

My mother glanced over at my father who just shrugged. "We technically already paid Joann." He said. "I see no reason for her to not go."

My mother looked at me sternly. "You can go-"

"Yes."

"Under one condition." My face fell. "No fireworks. That means no fountains, sparklers, poppers, smokes, firecrackers, or cakes. None of your homemade stuff either. Nothing that goes boom." She said with emphasis. "Is that understood?" She asked.

"Understood."

"Paige!" Shouted my friend Lexi from the back of the bus. "Over here." I maneuvered myself past all of the other teenagers, in to the back of the bus, gagging at the smell. Did they not have air conditioning on these buses?

Lexi moved her stuff on to the floor and scooted over in the seat. "So," she said, "what's in the bag?"

I glanced down at my bag, which was falling apart. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"What's in the bag?" She gestured nervously with her hands. "What kind of fire-"

"Shut up." I slammed a hand over her mouth. "Do you want the whole grade to know?"

Lexi's eyes widened as she must of realized what her stupidity would of cost us. "Right." She said. "But you do have some...er...stuff?" She looked at me hopefully.

"Yes."

"How'd you got them past your parents?"

"They're in my toiletries." I said.

"Cool." Said Lexi, opening up a copy of Forbes along with a newspaper. Lexi was, probably, the only Senior who read Forbes and the newspaper.

"Watcha readin?" I asked as the bus started to move.

"Oh, you know." She gestured with her hand. "Stuff on New York."

I sighed. My friend had a weird fettish on the alien invasion of New York last summer. For years, Lexi had been fascinated with comic books and superheroes, such as Superman. But now that there were real superheroes...Lexi just couldn't shut up about them. She got on almost everyone else's nerves with all of her theories and facts.

"They have this awesome interview with Tony Stark." She said.

"Really?" I asked, faking an interest.

"Yep." She said. "Listen to this;

Forbes: What makes you a hero, and not a vigilante?

Tony Stark: Perspective. And the mansions. But mostly perspective.

Forbes: Do you ever feel guilty for being an arms dealer?

Tony Stark: No. Do you ever feel guilty for being a puppet of global media monoculture? Of course not." She proceeded to read me the entire interview.

I stared out the window as she talked about her favorite real life superhero. It could be relaxing to hear Lexi talk about superheroes. She acted as if these impossible people could make any problem just disappear.

Lexi stopes talking as a teacher moved to the back of the bus. Miss Wilson took a seat right across the isle from Lexi and me.

Lexi sighed. "Great." She muttered, handing me the copy of Forbes and starting on the newspaper. "The old hag had to sit next to us."

I pinched her on the arm, glancing over to see if Miss Wilson had heard her. She didn't show any signs of having heard Lexi's comment, for which I was grateful.

Miss Wilson, otherwise known as the old hag, wasn't actually old. In fact, she couldn't have been any older than twenty five. The reason that she was called "the old hag" was because she had replaced our previous AP Chemistry teacher, the real old hag, about half way through the school year, when she had decided to take a vacation to Mexico.

Rebecca Wilson was tall, smart, and beautiful. She was nice to the majority of the students and made chemistry fun. Half the guys in our grade switched to AP Chemistry just to have her. Everyone loved her.

She was the worst teacher I had ever had.

For some reason, she didn't like me. I had gotten more detentions from her for not turning in homework, then I had my Junior year when I caught the lab on fire. At least once a week I would have to stay behind for an hour with only her for my company.

I banged my head against the seat in front of me and opened the copy of Forbes, not really reading it. This was going to be a long trip.