“My parents gave me this when I first started at Super Hero High,” she said, holding out the ICE jar of honey. “Well, we didn’t have it during the battle, but I think it’s appropriate that we share it now. They told me it was for emergencies or special times.”
“Whoa, wow!” Beast Boy exclaimed. “You’d share that with me? This is totally awesome.” He paused, then added, “So are you, but if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it!”
“Beast Boy, I have something to ask you,” Bumblebee said, sounding a tad nervous.
“What?” he asked. Beast Boy poured so much honey over his cake that it dripped onto the floor.
“Well, Beastie,” Bumblebee joked, “we’ve been through so much together and had so much fun—and fear!—I was wondering if you’d want to be besties.” When he kept chewing, she explained. “You know, be best friends?”
Beast Boy didn’t answer, but instead looked confused.
Bumblebee felt her heart sink. She was so embarrassed. Why would he want to be her best friend? Everyone knew that despite his antics, Beast Boy could be something of a loner at times.
“Never mind,” Bumblebee said, trying to sound lighthearted. “It was just a weird thought.”
“It sure was!” Beast Boy agreed. “Totally weird, ’cause I thought we already were best friends!”
While the two laughed, Poison Ivy was strolling through Centennial Park, admiring the flowers and talking to them as she passed. Suddenly, a giant shadow blocked the sunlight.
Ivy gasped, then looked up and smiled. “Oh, for a moment you scared me,” she said. “How are you? You look so…different.”
Jason Woodrue gave her a wry smile. “Do I?” he asked. He was still dressed in his tweed three-piece suit and jaunty hat. However, things were growing on him—vines, leaf sprouts, and mosses. He now looked half man, half plant.
“What a coincidence, bumping into you here,” he said smugly. “Poison Ivy, I just wanted to let you know that I never liked working for you.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, looking shocked and dismayed.
“I’m not sorry in the least,” Jason Woodrue said as a network of vines slithered up her legs and arms. Pulling out a small spray bottle, he misted her face with a dose of Queen Bee’s fake pollen while she struggled. “Poison Ivy, you are now going to work for me!”