I do not own The Electric Company.

Part One

To: Nicole Green

From: Karmen McBarlen

Subject: Re: KKAARRMMEENN!

Hey, Nicole.

Sorry for not replying sooner. New York has been insanely crazy. I met a bunch of teens with these crazy superpowers—turns out I have them too!—and I kind of broke them up with my "Cupiding" as you like to put it. Don't worry though; I was able to patch things up so everyone is friends again.

I know you'll want to hear the full story and I swear I'll share all the details soon. I've just been really busy, what with the school starting up soon and the Pranksters constantly at the Electric Company's throats and all. Not to mention I still owe Paul the Gorilla like a million banana smoothies after last week's fiasco.

…It's a long story. Let's just say I'm a hopeless waitress that should quit while I'm ahead.

Anyway, besides all that, my life is going great. You seriously need to visit me sometime. I can show you around the city, introduce you to my new friends. It'll be great.

Miss you like crazy!

XO Karmen

P.S. How's Honolulu? Hope you're soaking up enough sun for the both of us (you know I have the UV ray tolerance of a non-glittery vampire). Don't turn your fingers into prunes swimming with the fishies. And remember to tell your dads and Hunter that I say hi! I know how much they all adore me (especially your dorky little bro :P).

To: Karmen McBarlen

From: Nicole Green

Subject: Re: KKAARRMMEENN!

Superpowers? Electric Company? Pranksters? Paul the Gorilla? Geez, Karmen. What have you been up to?

(Hawaii's great, by the way).

Chapter One – The Not So New Normal

There was a time in my life when I was normal.

It was a very short time, lasting no longer that one, maybe two, hours tops. I was twelve years old and really into this cool new intense fairy anime. School had just ended and there was a marathon of the show on TV so I watched it. I know, admitting that the one time I was normal was when I was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor in my favourite red sweater with the fox on it watching girls transform into magical girls and fight evil is pretty lame, but it was the one time I felt like an average preteen girl who did not observe people and play matchmaker even though nobody actually wanted my help being matched up.

It was a really good two hours.

To most people, the fact that the most legitimately normal I have ever been was some random day in sixth grade is concerning. Even I have to admit that it sounds kind of weird. However, I use the term "normal" very loosely.

Because, by my standards, wordballs and Pranksters and gorillas named Paul are normal. It's an Electric Company thing.

Of course there are the actual normal sounding things. I'm an only child with two loving parents. I have a stable home, lots of friends, and a knack for making love happen. Then there are the less than normal sounding things, such as the wicked cool powers I use to fight crime. Or, more accurately, Pranksters.

It's a much more recent development in my life and overall pretty great once you get over the fact that my mom was (is?) a Prankster. That part is a long and complex story that I've shoved into the "Things My Parents Tried to Keep from Me but I Found out Anyway" part of my brain, right between "your dad got another job transfer" and "we're moving again!" I try not to dwell on the fact that my mom was (again, is?) basically evil, mainly because it was years ago, I have already made up with her, and I am completely over it.

Completely.

I realize that all this Electric Company/Pranksters stuff isn't exactly normal by regular standards, but it's a part of my everyday life. Therefore, by my standards, it's normal. It's the new normal. Weird, fun, and a little crazy. Exhilarating one moment and draining the next. From bad to worse to the very best, that is my life. And I swear I would never ever trade a thing…except maybe Marcus.

(Okay, fine. I guess I would keep him too).

The Electric Diner. Home to New York's finest dishes, best smoothies, and the official hangout of the Electric Company, otherwise known as the coolest people ever.

Then again, considering I am now a member of the Electric Company, my opinion is probably biased.

When I first discovered the place earlier this summer, I never expected it to become my second home. Now I'm here literally every day and I love it. Everything from the sweet scent of their baked goods to the smiling faces of the staff and customers to the unrealistically clean floors and windows scream perfection.

It's also my new favourite writing spot, besides the park. Usually the welcoming aura of the diner allows all my ideas to come pouring out. I would like to say that's why I'm here now; leaning against the counter and tapping my pen against an empty plastic cup, but that would be a lie because I technically haven't written anything.

There's a doodle of a dinosaur saying rawr in the margins, if that counts. It's honestly the most terrifying thing I have ever seen. I begin to scribble it out with my pen but press down too hard, causing the paper to rip.

I hear a loud gasp from behind, followed by a mocking, "Don't take it out on Layla!" Recognizing the voice as Hector's, I barely give him a second glance before focusing all my attention back on my blank and now ripped notebook page.

Hector Ruiz is a member of the Electric Company. He is kind of our leader, I guess because he's the oldest member with powers. He also runs the diner, all while attending community college. If that's not impressive, I don't know what is.

Layla, if you didn't catch on, is my notebook. My big, beautiful, glittery red notebook. Over a year's worth of my life is documented in her fat spine, as well as a bunch of other stuff, including some very incriminating photographic evidence that my mom was (is) a Prankster, which I may or may not have stolen from an old photo album.

"What are you writing?" Hector walks up from behind me, trying to catch a glimpse of Layla's contents. Normally I would have shoved him away (I am very protective of my writing and hate when people read over my shoulder) but the page is still blank so I resist the urge.

"I'm blocked," I say instead, sticking out my bottom lip in a fake pout. "Writing is so hard."

"Do you know what else is hard? Working." Hector thrusts a large dirty mop into my hands as if he honestly expects me to do something with it.

I scrunch up my nose and hand it back to him. "What's this?"

"Haven't you ever seen a mop before?" Hector laughs a little too hard at his own joke and I have no choice but to give him a scowl and a disapproving headshake. It doesn't matter how old you are—Dad jokes are not cute.

"Someone spilt their soup all over the floor," Hector explains once he calms down and realizes he's the only one laughing. He tilts his head to the right, motioning towards the mess.

I peer over the counter and follow his gaze to a growing puddle of some nasty-looking yellow liquid with chunks of what I can only hope are vegetables. "It looks like vomit."

"It's probably not. Can you please clean it up?"

I scoff. "Give me one good reason why I would ever do that."

"Because you work here."

The Electric Diner. Home to New York's finest dishes, best smoothies, and the official place in which I am now employed.

I spend my last days of summer cleaning with an old, badly stained rag and a half-empty bottle of Clorox which, on its own, sounds pretty lame—I realized very early on that there is no way to make wiping tables for minimum wage sound cool—but when you spend an entire summer discovering a whole other side to yourself you didn't even know about, you learn to appreciate the small, underpaid things.

I took this job mainly because I thought it would be cool to work at the place that "started it all" so to speak, but also because my parents have been bugging me about working ever since the moment I turned sixteen. They think I have too much free time on my hands and say I should use it for something more productive. I think writing is productive but say whatever, so long as I get paid.

I begrudgingly snatch the mop from him, not even bothering to protest any further.

One puddle of vomit—ahem, soup—later, Hector is giving me an entirely new task. One that I am most definitely not ready for and have no problem voicing my opposition towards.

"You can't keep saying no to everything I tell you to do," Hector says, ignoring my complaints and sliding a silver tray across the counter in my direction.

"Why not?" I slide the tray back to him. If there is one thing Hector should know about me by now, it's that I can and will continue to say no as if my life depends on it (which it does).

"Because I'm in charge and you'll end up doing it anyway."

The silver tray speeds towards me once again and I reluctantly accept it since I can't really argue against his claim. Hector is my boss and, despite my occasional whining, I always do what he tells me to in the end. I mean, I literally just moped up a pool of vomit (I don't care what Hector says, soup should not smell that bad).

"Fine, I'll do it," I roll up the sleeves of my red flannel shirt, "but if I screw up—which we all know I will—it's on your guilty conscience."

"Duly noted." Hector plops two smoothies onto the tray. One is pale orange and the other is a brighter, more yellowish colour. "Shock is almost done with the rest of the order," he tells me.

I nod, grabbing Layla off the counter. I have a feeling I won't get much writing done now (not that I was doing any better before), so I use the brief wait as an opportunity to run to my purse and shove her inside.

When I get back to my original spot Hector is still standing there, as is Shock with two more delicious-looking smoothies, one light pink and the other purple with specks of blue. I dramatically lift the tray off the counter, sighing heavily to emphasize my reluctance. Hector rolls his eyes.

"You are the most difficult employee I have ever managed. Do you know that?"

I scoff. "Is that supposed to be an insult? Because your other employee is Shock."

I say this not because Shock is difficult, but because he is the complete opposite. Unlike me, Shock doesn't wait for Hector to tell him to do things and certainly doesn't protest. Although, to be fair, he doesn't really talk all that much to begin with. He likes to keep to himself, which is why there is so much I still don't know about him. Most of the mystery revolves around how he's a member of the Electric Company who doesn't have powers anymore, but he promised to tell me the full story someday and I promised myself I wouldn't pry so I have kept all further questions to myself. This includes questions regarding his deceased wordball studying father, which is another mysterious part of his life I don't know much about.

One thing I do know about Shock is that he has worked at the diner forever, even longer than Hector, which kind of makes me wonder why he's not in charge. I'd probably be a much better employee if he was since I may also harbor a secret crush on him. Or a not-so-secret crush since I'm pretty sure everyone knows about it, himself included.

Hector ignores my comment, lightly nudging me towards the customers. "Stop stalling and just go."

I do go because, as I said before, I always end up doing what he tells me to, despite my bitter protests. Fortunately I don't trip over anything (ten points for avoiding a repeat of the banana smoothie incident!) and make it to my friends' table with minimal spillage.

I clear my throat. Laughing away at the booth are Jessica Ruiz, Keith Watson, Lisa Heffenbacher, and Marcus Barnes, the four remaining members of the Electric Company. Between them, Jess is the first to notice me. She nudges Keith in the arm and beams.

"Look who didn't forget about us after all. It feels like I haven't seen you in forever, Karmen."

Jessica is pretty much my best friend here in New York. She shares my level of spunk, which I suppose is why we clicked from the start. She's obviously joking about never seeing me since we hang out pretty much every day. I think that was her fear when I first started working here, though she quickly got over it. She, like me and everyone else in the Electric Company, practically live at the diner anyway.

I put on a serious face, going into what I like to call work mode. "Okay, so I've got a mango smoothie for Jessica, a peach smoothie for Keith, strawberry-kiwi for Lisa, and mixed berry for Marcus."

I hand everyone their smoothies and turn to face Hector and Shock. Hector has since moved from his spot, but Shock, who is wiping down the counter, gives me a thumbs up.

I grin. "What do you know? Maybe I'm not as terrible at this as I…" I stop midsentence, my mouth hanging open. It takes me half a second to realize that all the smoothies have been traded. Jessica now has the mixed berry, Marcus has the peach, Keith has the strawberry-kiwi, and Lisa has the mango. I stare at them, dumbfounded and feeling stupid.

"You were really close this time," Lisa reassures, even though it's pretty clear that I wasn't. That's Lisa for you, always seeing past the failure. I'm not sure how she does it, but someone in the group has to be the nice one and it sure as heck isn't me.

Sighing, I slide in next to Lisa in the booth. I might have slid in a little too hard though because Marcus ends up smushed against the window. "Sorry, Marcus." I smile sheepishly and stand up to sit next to Jessica instead. Even though it's been well established that these booths were not meant for five people, Jess is so close to Keith she's practically sitting on his lap anyway so I squeeze in perfectly.

"I am a hopeless waitress." I say to no one in particular. Jessica pats me on the back reassuringly while Marcus attempts to make me feel better by reminding me that nothing I do will ever be worse than the Paul the Gorilla/banana smoothie mishap.

"Thanks, Marcus," I say sarcastically. "I feel so much better now."

Marcus is Jessica's sidekick. Well…he was her sidekick before, but lately he has taken a liking to following me around. While I generally can't stand him, there is no denying that he has grown on me a lot since we first met. Just don't tell him I said that.

Marcus either misses my sarcasm or flat out ignores it because he responds with a hearty "you're welcome" that makes my face redden in frustration.

"I am a hopeless waitress," I repeat, holding out my hand to indicate that I do not need anyone to comfort me or tell me that I'm wrong. The fact is, I really do suck at my job. It's a miracle that Hector has not fired me, if not because I've sucked at every task he has given me than because I've been fired from every job I've ever had (which is only two and a half, but still).

"Would now be a good time to mention that I didn't actually order a smoothie?"

I glare at Keith even though it's technically my fault for mixing up their orders. Don't get me wrong. I like Keith, I really do, but sometimes I just don't know what to do with him. It's not like I know him all that well, not the way Jessica does. I feel like we're a lot closer now since he told me all that heavy stuff about his mom, but still.

He slides the full cup towards me, strawberry-kiwi sloshing around in a shiny, blue-tinted cup. I take it and look around the table. "So none of you ordered this?"

"This is all that we ordered," Jessica tells me. "Unless Marcus…" She trails off, giving him a questioning look while I full on stare at him, expecting an explanation. Let's just say Marcus buying every smoothie on the menu as a result of his inability to make decisions is not a new experience.

"Nope," Marcus takes a long sip of his drink.

"Okay then…" I stand up, lifting the smooth pink beverage high above my head. "Hey! Who ordered the strawberry-kiwi?!"

I look around the room. The diner isn't all that full but the few people who are here either ignore me or shake their heads. Or glare at me, but those are the Pranksters sitting way off in the corner. They always glare. It's kind of their thing.

I lower the smoothie, a frown forming on my face. Well, so much for that tactic.

"Hm…try that boy over there," Lisa offers, pointing a perfectly manicured nail of which I painted coral pink during a sleepover at Jessica's.

I follow her finger and her gaze. There's a boy sitting alone in a corner opposite the Pranksters. His head is down and he has his phone hidden in his lap in that cheap "texting in class" position that somehow always manages to work despite the obviousness. Even from where I'm standing, I can see the black ear buds in his ears, meaning that he most likely didn't hear me.

"That's probably him."

I take a deep breath, black curls falling over my face as I attempt to adjust my headband one-handed, before making my way to the lone boy's table. As I approach him, I tilt my head in hopes of getting a better view of his face but to no avail. The most I can see are the dark freckles dancing across his cheeks.

What I do notice is his strange attire, sleek leather jacket thrown over a white v-neck despite it being, like, a million degrees outside. Then there's his hair. What I assume was once dark brown (an assumption supported by his eyebrows) is now dyed sea green and spike up in a style I have seen multiple guys wear.

There is now way I could have possibly missed a guy like this. He must not be a regular customer.

"Hey there," I smile at him when I reach his table. Hector is always telling me to smile at the customers because it makes them feel welcome, or whatever. Usually they smile back, but I always feel stupid when they don't.

Like right now. The boy isn't smiling back. In fact he barely acknowledges my existence, continuing to stare blankly at his phone as if a cute girl with his order did not just walk up to him. Talk about rude.

I deliberately clear my throat, hoping to get his attention. It appears to work, although not necessarily in a good way since he groans loudly in response.

"What do you want?"

Oh heck no.

"Excuse me?" I place a hand on my hip, eyes narrowing. I did not look around the diner for an entire minute trying to figure out who ordered this smoothie only for said person to talk to me this way. Over the short amount of time I have worked here I managed to avoid dealing with rude customers (Pranksters don't count) and have absolutely no desire to deal with one now.

"What do you want?" he repeats, same amount of edge to his words. There is a familiarity in his voice that throws me off guard, but I can't quite seem to place it.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, knowing that I have to keep my cool no matter what. If I'm going to be fired from this job it is going to be because I suck at it. Not because I sucker punched a customer.

"I don't want anything, but I assume you want your order?" I hold out the smoothie to him, which he does not take as he still refuses to look at me. He is so unworthy of this meaningless fake smile I've plastered onto my face.

"Oh, so I did order a drink. It's been so long I thought I imagined it."

"Ha ha, funny," I can feel the sarcasm dripping from my voice.

Why am I wasting my time on this boy when he won't even look at me? I have so many more things I could be doing right now yet I'm still here conversing with the young and the ruthless as if I'm in my own soap opera. Reminds me of my last relationship.

"And you're worse than my last boyfriend," I mutter to myself.

"Hate to be the guy that dated you."

I'm not sure why, but out of everything he's said that comment is what pushes me over the edge. There's just something about the way he says it, all casual but in a mocking way, that makes me snap. "Listen here, bro. If you're going to speak to me like that, you better put your phone down and actually look at me so I know who I'm dealing with. I asked you a question—do you want this drink or not?—and would really appreciate it if you would just…"

We make eye contact and my heart literally stops. So my mind apparently, since my rant quickly trails off into silence. All I can do is stare into his brown eyes in such a way that probably makes everyone around us uncomfortable. The only thing that makes it all slightly less awkward is how whatever strange phenomena that has overcome me seems to have hit him too since he's staring back, same dumb expression on his face that I am certain is on mine.

You know how people's lives flash before their eyes when they think they're going to die? Like when I was twelve and dislocated my knee after falling off the stage during the community center's production of The Lion King (I was a dramatic child—deal with it).

Well, my life most definitely does not flash before my eyes now because that would be ridiculous. I do, however, see moments from a specific part of my life; my freshmen year of high school. Dates and fights and breakups and make ups. I know it sounds crazy since I'm not physically dying, but my brain is mentally imploding and I think that counts.

And why do I feel like a memory volcano erupted in my brain? Well, I have two words;

Daniel Alderman.

As in evil, motorcycle riding, evil, Mighty Bright Knight reading, evil, heartbreaking, evil, does not live in or anywhere near New York City, evil ex-boyfriend Danny. In the Electric Diner. Sassing me.

What the actual heck?

Danny Alderman dumped me the summer between freshmen and sophomore year. We met in detention and were together for six months, which is eternity for a fifteen year old. He was my first serious boyfriend and I was extremely heartbroken when we split up.

Or, as I like to put it, when he ripped my heart out of my chest and shredded it into a million pieces via a freaking text message.

Honestly, our breakup was the worst experience of my life and I was (admittedly) a mess the weeks following. I'm pretty sure the only thing uglier than my crying was the revenge list my friend Megan typed up. We didn't actually do anything on that list, mostly because number five was crazy and number seven was illegal, but the fact that the list in itself was in existence spoke volumes. Megs may be a little on the violent side, but she doesn't go all out unless she believes the person truly deserves it.

My parents weren't exactly of much help either, mainly because neither of them liked Danny to begin with. Believe it or not "I told you so" is not something a heartbroken teen wants to hear at any point. Ever.

Eventually I did get over Danny. Then, about a month or so later, my dad announced that we were moving again. That was last very last of my "missing Daniel Alderman" phase because, after that, I never saw or heard from him again.

I left Danny and every memory of him behind when I moved that summer, so what the heck is he doing here in New York?

What is the proper reaction to seeing the boy who broke your heart over a year ago in the absolute last place you ever expected to see him? Probably not throwing a sticky pink strawberry-kiwi beverage in his face.

Throwing smoothies is, however, the perfect reaction to hearing the boy who broke your heart over a year ago call you Karma, a nickname only he ever called you and that you burned along with every photograph you have ever taken together. Therefore, my action is justified.

Still, I feel kind of bad. And not just because Hector chooses now to run over and ask what the heck is going on. Seriously, where was he a minute ago when I wanted to flip a table?

"Karmen! What did you do?" Hector doesn't wait for a response before moving straight past me and handing an entire napkin holder to Danny. He looks a little frantic and for a moment I am certain he's going to fire me right then and there. Instead he lies and tells Danny, "She's not usually like this," which we all know is not true at all.

"You mean the angry ranting or the food throwing? Because the Karmen I know does both," Danny stops dabbing at his face just long enough to give me his signature side smirk, dimples and all. "I guess I had this coming though. Right, Karma?"

"Wait," Hector turns to face me, suddenly looking a lot less concerned for Danny and a lot more amused on my part. "You know him?"

"Karmen, what's happening?" I hear Jessica's voice come up from behind me, full of curiosity and slight confusion. "Who's this?"

At this point everyone is staring at me, expecting an explanation (with the exception of Danny, who I am sure is enjoying every minute of this). It is also this exact moment that the reality of what just happened seems to sink in.

Regardless of how much they may deserve it, drenching someone in smoothie is never a good thing when you're an employee. And now that I've caught everyone's attention, my only option is to do what any cool, collected waitress would do.

I walk away. To the kitchen. To scream at the top of my lungs.

Guess who's not winning employee of the month any time soon.

And...I'm...back.

Usually my author's notes are at the top, but I figured I'd mix things up just this once.

Cupid Strikes Back is the official sequel to Our Generation's Cupid. It revolves around Karmen McBarlen during her junior year of high school. As the summary suggests, a new secret rattles her life and she struggles to deal with it on top of school, work, and her Electric Company duties. Of course, there will be some romance along the way, because it wouldn't be an OGC sequel without it.

Much will be revealed in this story that was briefly touched on or lacked explanation in the last, including the relationship between Karmen's mom and a certain Scrambler as well as whatever research was going on in Shock's house before his father's passing.

There will be new faces (you've already met one) and loads and loads of drama because it would not be an OGC sequel without it.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and stay tuned for Chapter Two.

XOXOX Beta