Upbeats 2: Crime After Crime

by Erin Sheena Byrne

  Chapter Eleven

  Before we left the cave, System handed each of us a sheet of paper printed with the Morse code alphabet.

  If you have ever seen Morse code, you might know a little about how it operates. Morse code works with a series of dots (which make the short sound: dit), and dashes (which make the long sound: "dah"), jumbled up into about a hundred different combinations to create letters, numbers, even commas and full stops.

  I'm not exactly great with codes and puzzles so I didn't know how I was ever going to get the hang of it.

  I really hoped I never got into a situation where I would need the others to come in and rescue me because there was no way I could use the Morse code transmitter... thing... on my new watch.

  Everyone left the cave and went their separate ways.

  The country outskirts are miles from my home in suburbs.

  But it was an easy walk along well-lit streets and smooth pavement.

  Luke walked alongside me on the long haul home, deep in thought and short on conversation.

  For as long as I could remember, Luke had lived across the road from me. His parents were friends with mine and we grew up together.

  We used to ride our tricycles together, play in the park that resided in the middle of our street, climb trees and sometimes play in the old tree house in Luke's back yard.

  But ever since my mother died and my father left... Luke's family hadn't had too much to do with Arthur and me. Every now and then, Mrs Rosenhart stopped by and asked if Arthur and I needed anything. Sometimes she baked a pie or a batch of cupcakes for us.

  Luke and I were good friends. But we drifted apart as the years flew by and just gradually turned into casual friends. You know: the kind of friends that would wave if they happened to see each other, say "hi" in the hallway at school if they crossed paths, and maybe chat if they were stuck together somehow.

  But we didn't go out of our way to hang out with each other, we didn't spend hours on the phone and our conversations were always light and to the point. And, although it was never said out-loud, they all carried an undertone of, "let's hurry this up so we can get out of here and go back to pretending each other didn't exist."

  But since we got powers, met System and found out about Gemini, we spoke a whole lot more. We grew closer.

  Although it may sound a little mushy, it was nice to have Luke back as a friend. I hated the way we tried to ignore each other in the past.

  But Luke wasn't saying a word as we walked down the street. From years of hanging around Luke, I knew that that meant he was thinking. Deep.

  "By the way, I never got your answer, chief," I said, shattering the silence.

  Luke viewed it as downright criminal when any of us called him "chief," but it just rolled off the tongue so easily: it slipped right out before I could stop it.

  "Don't call me... oh, forget it." Luke ran a hand through his fair hair. "I was just thinking about what you said at the cave. I mean, you're right; people aren't just going to leave us alone. Journalists, reporters, paparazzi... they'll stop at nothing to get a hold of a story like this. And Gemini will see those headlines."

  "Superheroes," I agreed. "A story like that would be bigger than Elvis dying, bigger than the artificial heart, bigger than... than man stepping foot on the moon! Of course, Gemini would hear about it! We'd finally have him!"

  Luke nodded. "That's exactly my point. I'm just worried that if we draw Gemini out, he could get the jump on us before we see him coming. We're new to this whole superhero thing. Who's to say we will get Gemini before he gets us? He's older, far more intelligent and an alien from another planet!"

  He had a point.

  "But, we've got System; he can detect just about every signal and radar transmission you can think of!" I argued. "System would find Gemini long before he shows his face in public. And we have our disguises. Maybe Ned's right: superhero names aren't a bad idea."

  "Gemini's smart," Luke said, reasonably. "He'll know how to cover up his tracks better than even System could detect. And this brings me to my next point: if we start coming up with names, if we answer journalists' questions... they wouldn't leave us alone. They'll want more. They always want more. Eventually, we'll slip up. They'll find out who we really are, they'll find out about aliens. It would make Gemini's job ten times easier if the world was in chaos and he knew the identities of the Upbeats. And you remember what Angela Spike said: humans are not ready to find out about aliens. It's an intergalactic law, even."

  "And I know how you are with laws," I playfully nudged Luke on the arm. He smiled for a brief moment. "But we won't tell them about System, we won't let them even suspect we're just five ordinary kids."

  Luke thought about it and slowly came to a halt. Automatically, I stopped walking, too. "Brooke, I can't let anyone on this planet, besides John McGill, find out that we've got powers. I don't want to think about how people will harass us, study us, or plaster our names on headlines... I just can't risk letting that happen. But I will never stop you from saving someone: that is something we have to do…. Still… it's not a good idea to search for the lime-light. Looking for trouble is something I strongly advise against."

  He was right, of course. One thing I will say about Luke, he was almost always right. His logic was nearly impossible to argue with.

  (But that wasn't going to stop me from trying.)

  "But we need to find Gemini. If we don't try and draw him out, he could destroy us tomorrow and then it won't matter if anyone knows there are superheroes out there or not."

  Luke nodded slowly. "Yeah... you're right."

  "And I sincerely think it will work," I pressed on, unafraid. "Gemini wants to do this with as little trouble as possible. And we're a speed bump in his plans."

  Luke nodded, again. "Well… how about this," he said, slowly, purposefully, "we carry on saving people, as superheroes do, and see if getting into newspapers and headlines will draw Gemini out. Okay?"

  I grinned and hugged Luke. He didn't hug me back: he's far too stiff to concede to "hugging."

  "See you tomorrow," I said. I ran the last few metres to my house and waltzed up the path to my front door as if music was playing, the whole neighbourhood was singing and there was a spotlight shinning on me.

  I turned the lock, opened the door, stepped inside and shut the door behind me without another word.

  I couldn't help grinning from ear to ear: Luke Rosenhart actually approved of my idea! Well, more or less, but, it was enough for me!

  I headed for the stairs, feeling bright and cheered on, ready to get down to a tough math assignment, when a hand grabbed my arm, firmly.

  If I had not realized it was just my brother, I would have screamed so loud, the neighbours would have come running.

  I looked at my brother and concluded that he had gotten off work a few hours earlier than usual. Instead of his coat, scarf and smart shirt and pants, he wore jeans, socks, an old faded jersey I have been guilty of borrowing, and his hair was a mess.

  "Where have you been, Brooke?" Arthur asked.

  I shrugged, nonchalantly. "With Luke and the others," I answered, simply.

  Arthur crossed his arms. "What 'others?'"

  I sighed. "Luke, Robyn, Ned... some kid called Smithy.... Don't worry, they're good kids. Well, that's a lie: Ned, he's a pain in the butt."

  "I hardly ever see you," Arthur said, inflicting as much guilt with his tone as he possibly could.

  I felt two inches tall. "You see me all the time," I said, uselessly. It was unusual for my brother to act like this.

  Arthur nodded. "You know, if you want to talk, I'm always here. I understand I'm not mom, but—"

  Before I realized it, my feet stepped off the third stair, my hand left the railing and I stood on level ground with my brother.

  "You're doing your best," I interrupted. "And I appreciate that more than anything else in the whole world."

  That got a smile out of my big brother.

 
; "So... what's for dinner?" I shrugged off my jacket, slipped it on a hook by the front door and set about removing my soggy shoes. "I'm starving."

  "Oh, yeah," Arthur said as he grabbed me, pulled me up while I still had one shoe on, and started swing-dancing, 1950's style, headed for the kitchen. "I have been looking into the culinary arts and have conjured up a masterpiece!"

  Okay, when your brother cooks for you and calls it a masterpiece, it's most likely going to be microwaved pizza, cold hamburgers or, possibly, stir-fry, if you've had time to train him.

  It was none of the above.

  (If my brother starred on a cooking reality show, the judges would be lost for words...)

  In the kitchen, on the counter-top, displayed like dirty laundry on a round, white plate was a pile of tuna sandwiches.

  (The presentation could have used some help.)

  I tried to hide my disappointment. I found myself actually wishing for microwaved pizza.

  I looked over at Arthur, who smiled like a proud two-year-old, bearing the trademark two-year-old gift of a sandy weed from the garden.

  "Um... great. I was just in the mood for seafood," I said, politely. Arthur's smile widened.

  I usually did the cooking. I was never a five-star master chef or anything, but I was creative.

  Every now and then, and a lot lately: since I had been busy with all the Upbeat stuff, Arthur had been doing the cooking.

  He said he was giving me a break and he said it as if he was doing me a big favour.

  (I had to be more on the ball...)

  After the quaint dinner, Arthur and I washed the dishes, Arthur washing and I on drying duty.

  "So, how's school?" Arthur asked, conversationally.

  "Fine," I said. "Mrs Higgins is still piling up English homework for the class."

  Arthur laughed. "You know, she taught me, she taught dad and possibly even grandpa."

  "And she will go on to teach my grandchildren," I said with a giggle. "You know she broke her wrist last month? It healed in three weeks."

  Arthur's eyes widened. "What? No way!" his voice carried a strong tone of disbelief.

  "I'm serious," I insisted.

  With a raised eyebrow, Arthur looked at me, trying to decide if I were telling the truth or not. He eventually shrugged. "She's a tough old bird."

  Arthur and I said nothing more. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but after a few minutes of clinking dishes and sloshing, soapy dishwater, I decided I wanted to break the silence.

  Slyly scooping soap bubbles in my hand, I waited until Arthur wasn't looking and launched the soapsuds in my brother's direction.

  The initial shock wore off, he flung some back and we both laughed like idiots.

  The soap bubble war was on.

  I think we eventually got the dishes done. I can't remember...