Agent Rick Dicker from the National Supers Agency drove the Incredibles home. The family, now back in their regular clothes, sat silently listening to the hum of the armored police van’s motor.

“Well, that went poorly,” said Mr. Incredible, finally breaking the silence.

“Dad —” Violet said softly. “This is probably not the best time to tell you, but something else happened today ... with a kid ... and my mask ...” She told Bob that Tony had seen her.

They soon pulled into the parking lot of their current home: the Safari Court Motel. The small brown-and-orange motel had a sign above it with lights that flickered weakly. When the rear doors of the van opened, the Parr family poured out. Helen and the kids slowly walked toward their room as Bob lingered behind to tell Dicker about Violet’s incident with Tony.

“Talkative type?” asked Dicker through the van window.

“Don’t know. Last name is Rydinger,” answered Bob.

Dicker whipped out a pad and scribbled down the name. Then he told Bob he would check it out.

Bob moved off to join Helen and the kids, but Dicker called him back. “Bob, Helen ...? A word, if you don’t mind?” Dicker’s face fell as they approached the van. “The program’s been shut down,” he said with a sigh. He knew how important the Super Relocation Program was to the Parr family. Ever since Supers were forced underground, it had helped them many times. “Politicians don’t understand people who do good simply because it’s right. Makes ’em nervous. They’ve been gunnin’ for Supers for years. Today was all they needed ...” His voice trailed off. His sad eyes said it all: he genuinely felt bad about the whole situation. “Anyway ... I’m done. I’m afraid two more weeks in the motel is the best I can do for ya. It ain’t much.”

“You’ve done plenty, Rick,” said Helen, grateful. She leaned in and gave him a hug through the window.

“We won’t forget,” said Bob.

“Well, it has been a great honor workin’ with you good people,” said Dicker.

Bob and Helen thanked him for all he had done and wished him luck. Then they waved and watched the van go.

Later that night, the Parr family sat down to dinner around a small, round table. It had been months since they’d moved in, and the motel room felt cluttered and crowded. It wasn’t nearly big enough for a family of five.

Several cartons of Chinese takeout sat in the center of the table as they prepared to eat. Helen placed Jack-Jack in his high chair and clicked the buckle around his waist. Dash reached for the egg rolls, but Violet created a force field around the food and quickly asked, “Did you wash your hands?”

He scowled and raced from the table in a blur. In a flash he was back, reaching for the egg rolls again.

Violet protected the egg rolls with another force field and asked, “With soap?”

Dash zipped off again, returning within seconds.

“Did you dry them?” she asked, grinning.

Dash narrowed his eyes and speed-shook his hands. Then, with a triumphant grunt, he finally grabbed an egg roll. He looked in the rest of the cartons and frowned. “Is this all vegetables?” he asked. “Who ordered all vegetables?”

“I did,” said Helen. Her strict tone said she wasn’t up for hearing complaints. “They’re good, and you’re going to have some,” she added, serving him a heaping portion.

“Are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?” asked Violet.

Bob looked up at Violet with his mouth full of stir-fried beans. “What?” he asked.

“The elephant in the room,” repeated Violet. “What elephant?” asked Bob, clueless.

“I guess not, then,” said Violet. “You’re referring to today,” said Helen.

“Yeah, what’s the deal with today?” asked Dash.

“We all made mistakes,” said Helen calmly. “For example, you kids were supposed to watch Jack-Jack.”

“Babysitting,” said Violet, annoyed. “While you guys did the important stuff.”

“We talked about this,” said Helen. “You’re not old enough to decide about these things —”

“We are old enough to help out,” Violet interrupted. Dash agreed as Violet turned to her father. “Isn’t that what you tell us, Dad?”

Bob looked down at his food. “Yeah, well, ‘help out’ can mean many different things ...”

“But we’re supposed to help if there’s trouble ...” said Violet.

“Well ... yeah, but —” Bob stammered.

“Aren’t you glad we helped today?” asked Violet.

“Well, yeah. I was — AM —” said Bob, stumbling as he tried to find the right words.

“We wanna fight bad guys!” exclaimed Dash.

Jack-Jack babbled in approval and raised his fists, then slammed them down on the tray of his high chair.

“No — you don’t!” said Helen, finally weighing in.

Violet turned to Helen. “You said things were different now.”

Helen explained that they were different when they were on the island with Syndrome. The rules weren’t the same because they were all in danger, but since they were now back at home, everything was supposed to be normal again.

“So now we’ve gotta go back to never using our powers?” said Violet angrily.

“It defines who I am,” said Dash.

“We’re not saying you have —” Bob looked at Dash as his son’s words registered. “What?”

“Someone on TV said it,” replied Dash, shrugging it off.

“Can — can we just eat? The dinner? While it’s — hot?” asked Helen, wishing the conversation would just stop.

“Did we do something wrong?” asked Dash. “Yes,” said Helen.

“No,” said Bob. Helen gave Bob a sharp look, but Bob refused to agree with her. “We didn’t do anything wrong,” he insisted.

“Superheroes ARE illegal,” said Helen. “Whether it’s fair or not, that’s the law.”

“The law should be fair,” said Bob. “What are we teaching our kids?”

“To respect the law!” replied Helen, getting heated. “Even when the law is disrespectful?”

“If laws are unjust, there are laws to change them — otherwise it’s chaos!”

“Which is exactly what we have!” boomed Bob. Frustrated, Helen slammed her hand on the table, causing the plates to bounce and rattle. Everyone froze, stunned by her outburst. The awkward moment of silence seemed to linger before everyone slowly resumed eating.

Then Violet said softly, “I just thought it was kind of cool.”

“What was?” asked Helen calmly.

“Fighting crime. As a family,” she answered.

Everyone exchanged glances, and without a word they knew: they all agreed.

“It was cool,” said Helen. “But it’s over. The world is what it is. We have to ... adapt.”

“Are things ... bad?” asked Dash, concerned.

“Things are fine,” answered Helen.

Happy to hear those words, Dash cleared his mind of the whole conversation and asked to be excused. In a matter of seconds he cleared his plate, turned on the television, and settled onto the couch to watch a giant Japanese monster attack a city.

Violet got up and turned to Bob. “How much longer in the motel?” she asked.

Bob stammered, unsure of how to answer. He looked over at Helen.

“Not much longer, honey,” said Helen. She forced a smile, trying to hide the weight of the big question that hung in her mind: Where would they go next? bdlFrIgjrgAT7oNNNpF23zyPqMZ1JmM93TklTMvPoHp4iPb9qQCnNiBsXDr1i26J