Tall, Dark Streak of Lightning (The Dark Lightning Trilogy)

by J. M. Richards

  She laughed. “Yeah, I knew you had to be out of it last night. I was kind of expecting more of a reaction, to be honest.”

  While she spoke, I’d been glancing around my room, only to discover that it wasn’t my room. “Um, Jill…just how out of it was I last night?”

  “Fairly. You mentioned something about screaming babies and too many connecting flights. You looked like you did most of finals week,” she added helpfully. “Why?”

  “Well, I’m just trying to figure out where I am, exactly.”

  She laughed, seeing my confusion. “Did you forget you requested to be my suitemate this year?” She gestured to the room. “This is your new room. The RAs wouldn’t let me get any of your stuff out of storage, but I figured the least I could do was put some sheets on your bed since you’d probably be tired.”

  I just looked at her. “Jill, you are seriously the best ever.” I threw my arms around her. “And I missed you tons over the summer.”

  She hugged me back. “Yeah, I missed you, too. Now get dressed and come watch the thing I recorded for you!” She darted back through the bathroom and into her own room.

  “I can’t watch it in my pajamas?”

  “You can, but I’m starving and I’d like to go to lunch when it’s over. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Jill!” I called to her through our connecting bathroom as I pulled on some jeans. “You realize I’ve been more than twenty-four hours without a shower, right?”

  “Oh, who cares,” she grumbled. “You look fine. Just put on some deodorant and a bra. I mean, aren’t we just going to be getting sweaty lugging your stuff down from storage anyway?”

  She had a point. I frowned at my sloppy reflection as I passed the mirrors and continued into Jill’s room. I rather liked that we were living so close. “Okay, fine,” I announced, “I’m as ready as I can be under the circumstances.”

  “Come here,” she said, barely glancing at me. She had her recording all queued up and gestured for me to sit on her roommate’s bed. As soon as I was settled, she pressed play.

  On the screen, there was a platform full of official looking people, and a man stood at a podium with a microphone. A banner at the bottom of the screen identified him as “Bert O’Leary, Chief of Police.” Flash bulbs went off as he began to speak.

  “Citizens of Pittsburgh, it has come to our attention that the masked vigilante known as ‘Dark Lightning’ was apprehended last night.” A burst of voices babbled forth an eruption of questions, which he silenced with a raised hand. “Units were responding to a routine call in S’Liberty,” (the Pittsburgh pronunciation of “East Liberty,” one of several neighborhoods in the heart of the city) “when they found Dark Lightning binding another man. Our forces apprehended them both and brought them in for questioning.”

  “Isn’t it true,” one reporter in the audience burst out, “that he had just immobilized a drug dealer?”

  Chief O’Leary sighed. “I cannot comment on any ongoing investigations,” he replied. “We do have officers looking into the activities of both men that night.”

  “Are you going to release the identity of Dark Lightning?” another reporter asked.

  The chief motioned to someone off screen. “Yes,” he said, directing his attention back to the reporter. “We are releasing his identity, because we are asking for anyone with information on this man to come forward.”

  Even though Jill had already assured me that it was not Davin, I still felt my heart squeeze in some mixture of dread and anticipation. They flashed a picture in the upper right corner of the screen of a guy in his early-to-mid-twenties with floppy blonde hair. He was squinting a bit as though the flash of the camera had surprised him. Jill was right— he was cute, sort of, but he was also…not what I was expecting.

  He was wearing this goofy, sort of startled expression, like a kid who’s been caught doing something naughty but knows he’ll talk his way out of it. The police chief was saying his name was Tony Gale, and that he was a student at Carnegie-Mellon University. He also urged anyone with further information about him to call in on the hotline number they flashed on the screen.

  “That’s not all,” Jill said as the conference ended. “They also did an interview with this Tony guy.” She went to the next bit she’d recorded for me with a sort of eager glee. “This was about a week later, when they cleared him of any charges. They couldn’t really prove that he’d broken any laws, you know.”

  I glanced at her before returning my attention to the screen; I couldn’t figure out why Jill was suddenly a fangirl, when before she’d never showed much interest in DL. On the screen, Tony Gale sat opposite Jennifer Wright in the cozy fake living room studio. “Tell us about how you started down this path of vigilante justice,” she prompted.

  He grinned. “I wouldn’t exactly call myself a vigilante,” he protested, still smiling. “I’d say I’m more of a Boy Scout. A Samaritan. If I see someone who needs help, I do it. Simple as that. As for how I got started…well, it was simple, really. I had the ski mask, and I just happened to be passing by someone who was getting mugged. I thought maybe I should do something.”

  “So you put on the mask—” Jennifer prompted again.

  “Yeah, you know, I mostly just thought it would make me look tougher. Scarier. And hey, it worked!” He flashed another smile at the reporter.

  She smiled back, but it was professional. Stiff, even. “So, what would you say qualifies you to go around helping people?” she asked, and there was a subtle shift in her tone. It was almost accusatory.

  He didn’t seem to notice or get defensive. “Aw, you know. I never really thought about it. I mean, I’ve always been kinda strong. My dad told me I should always use my strength for good, you know? Watch out for the little guy.”

  Beside me, Jill sighed. “I finally get what you see in this guy,” she said.

  I frowned at her. “You do?”

  She paused it and turned to me. “Well, yeah. He’s just a regular guy helping people. It’s kind of sweet, actually.”

  Sweet was not the adjective I’d been thinking of. I glanced doubtfully at the television, where Tony Gale’s face was frozen on the screen, his goofy grin still in place. For some reason, I felt disappointed by the whole thing. He just came across as so…bland and uninteresting. I guess that was just what I deserved for romanticizing him, just like Davin had warned me not to. Davin. He was probably having a good laugh over the whole thing, if he’d heard. And how had I ever talked myself into considering the notion that he was the elusive hero? I stood and stretched.

  Jill glanced at me. “There’s more,” she said, still holding the remote.

  “Oh?” I said. I’d lost interest. “Um, can we finish after lunch? I’m starving.”

  “Yeah, of course. Me, too.” She slipped on a pair of flip flops and we headed out. The whole way to lunch she prattled about how exciting the whole thing had been and how the whole city was talking about Tony Gale.

  I threw her my own version of the Probing Look. “Jill,” I asked casually as we entered Phelps, “do you…have a crush on this guy?”

  She went red, blushing to the roots of her auburn hair. “What? No! Of course not!”

  I raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? I mean, it’s okay if you do. You wouldn’t be the first person.”

  “Well,” she kept her eyes averted, “I mean, I know you like him….”

  “Jill,” I laughed, “it’s like crushing on a celebrity. There are no dibs. All of us can admire from afar, because it’s not like we’re ever going to meet him. Besides, I have to say, he’s not exactly what I was expecting.”

  She sat across from me, her brow quizzical. “Why? What were you expecting?”

  “I don’t know.” I chewed thoughtfully. “But they are sure he’s really Dark Lightning, right?”

  “Yeah. They talk about it in the rest of the interview.” She sipped her soda. “Basically, the police caught him in the act of stopping a drug deal. Mask on and everythi
ng.”

  “Right,” I said. “But he didn’t try to run away?” She shrugged.

  I was thinking, Why did he let himself get caught? Why would he go on television and reveal his identity? It doesn’t fit. Then I thought, Fit what? You don’t know him. Maybe he was always in it for the publicity. I sighed.

  Just then, Davin walked in. My heart gave a funny double-time thud as I watched him travel across the room. He stopped just inside the large hall crammed with crowded tables; I knew he was just looking for an empty spot but I half hoped he was looking for me, too.

  Then our eyes met.

  He couldn’t have heard, but he might have seen, the sharp intake of breath that served as my unguarded reaction. As he walked over—slowly, but with that loping grace that told me he knew how to use every muscle in his body—I tried to compose myself. Not seeing him all summer had churned my already confusing feelings for him into something of a frenzy. I felt desperate for some sort of sign or clue regarding the possible existence of deeper feelings.

  He stood in front of our table, looking down, a warm smile in his brown eyes. “Hey, Anna.”

  “Hey.” I smiled back, but I couldn’t manage anything else. I was too busy trying to look calm.

  “Join us,” Jill said, filling the gap of my inarticulate flailing with calm cordiality.

  “Oh—thanks.” He sat, and I was afforded a good view of him for the first time in three months. His hair had grown out a bit from the awful haircut he’d had when I met him, and there was something slightly less haunted in his gaze. But he still looked tired and pale, and I could have sworn there were faint bruises on his arms.

  He glanced at me, too, and I was reminded of what a mess I was. Perfect. “How was your summer?” he asked, between bites.

  “Good,” I said. “Yours?”

  He shrugged. “Boring. I wouldn’t say I’m exactly glad school is starting, but it is sort of nice to be getting back into a regular routine.”

  “If you say so,” Jill sighed. “I for one am going to miss sleeping in.” She looked at me. “Am I right? Though you seemed fine this morning—I didn’t exactly have to drag you out of bed to watch that interview.”

  “What interview was that?” Davin asked, forking a piece of pasta.

  I glanced at him before replying. “Jill recorded the press conference and follow up interview where Dark Lightning’s identity was revealed.”

  His fork faltered just slightly, but continued so swiftly I almost wasn’t sure I saw it. As he chewed, he made a face. “Oh, right. I heard about that. Figured you’d be eating it up.” He shook his head, yet he was smiling. He took a few last bites of his pasta and pushed his tray aside, leaning forward on his arms across the table. “So. Is he everything you were hoping he’d be?”

  I cast a wary glance at Jill. “Well…not exactly. He seems nice.”

  “But?”

  “I don’t know,” I mused. “I guess…I just don’t quite understand why he chose to reveal himself now. It’s weird. Something seems…off.”

  Davin and Jill both frowned at me. “Don’t tell me you’re a skeptic,” he groaned. “Seriously?” He shook his head. “Jill,” he appealed, “help me out here.”

  She was only too willing. “I don’t get why you’d doubt him,” she said. “I mean, what would he gain by lying?”

  “Oh, I don’t know: fame, popularity, adoring women, legendary status throughout the city…”

  “Enemies on every corner,” Davin jumped in, correcting my list. “A giant target on his back and the backs of those he loves. A criminal record.”

  “He was never charged with anything,” Jill objected.

  I was watching Davin keenly. “So. What do you think of him?” I asked. “You were the skeptic from the start, so now that he’s out in the open, what’s your assessment?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me, still faintly grinning. He thought a moment, then replied, “I think the same thing I always have: He’s an idiot.”

  Jill’s jaw dropped.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I mean—he seems like a nice enough guy, I’ll give him that.”

  “But?” I prompted, just as he had.

  Davin shrugged. “Guy goes around in costume for a year just getting in other people’s business, and then lets himself get caught by the police, only to let them reveal his identity to the world?” He shook his head. “I don’t see the logic. But to each his own, I guess.”

  “Didn’t seem like he had much of a choice that the police released his identity,” I pointed out.

  “No,” he agreed. “But he didn’t exactly have to do the follow up interview. Don’t get me wrong,” he added hastily, “I’m sure he means well. Truth be told, I kind of like him against my will. He’s very personable,” Davin said. “If someone had to be stupid enough to sign up for watching over this crazy town, I’d rather it be him than someone deranged. He seems pretty trustworthy.”

  “You think?” I kept watching him.

  He laughed at me. “You’re the fangirl, Anna. I thought you’d be the one convincing me!”

  “She didn’t watch the whole interview yet,” Jill explained. “She just heard the news last night.”

  “Right,” I agreed. “I have to process things.”

  “And then overthink them,” Davin teased, referencing one of our earlier conversations.

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, if you overthink this one too much, your bff might just steal him away,” he cautioned, nodding at Jill with a smile.

  Jill blushed again. “Shut up!”

  I sighed. “She can have him.”

  Davin’s teasing smile faded abruptly. For a moment he just looked at me—his trademark Probing Look in full force—as though truly trying to read my mind. “I don’t get you, Anna Fisher,” he said softly. “I feel like I shouldn’t be surprised, yet I am.” He shook himself suddenly and stood. “Sorry girls, I’ve got to go. Thanks for letting me join you.” And without a word of explanation, he was gone.

  Jill sat stiffly, poking at the remains of her casserole. “I don’t know what you see in him,” she said quietly.

  “Don’t start,” I replied, suddenly weary. I picked up my own tray, suddenly eager to be gone. “Because it doesn’t matter,” I told her, standing. “He clearly doesn’t think of me that way, and I’m tired of waiting around for him to.”

  Jill raised an eyebrow at me but said nothing. Instead she picked up her tray, too, and followed me out.

  We spent the rest of the afternoon doing too much work to talk. The school had allowed me to store my few boxes of belongings in a closet on the third floor. This meant that they had to be lugged down two flights of stairs and an endless hallway to my new room. When I’d left, it had seemed like only a few small crates. By the time we’d brought them all down, I could have sworn they’d multiplied in weight and number. How had I accrued so many books—especially non-textbooks?

  All the sweating and lugging and grunting seemed to help, though, or maybe it was having something else to focus on. Just when we were starting to relax—Jill was heading back to her room and I was about to tackle unpacking— my new roommate arrived and asked if we would mind helping her bring some things up? To which we naturally answered yes.

  It took about four and a half trips to get everything out of her station wagon, but she was so apologetic and grateful about it that it was impossible to get mad. Once we got everything in, we cracked open a couple cans of ice cold diet soda from the vending machine in the basement—and I finally got to study my new roommate.

  Kim Wheat was a tall, willowy blonde with a shy but genuine smile. She looked like the kind of girl I’d been intimidated by in high school, but she was much more welcoming and friendly then they had been. She seemed genuinely interested in my framed photos of Brazil, and didn’t sneer at my hero pictures. Kim’s side of the room was quickly decorated with a few battered movie posters (mostly featuring well-known and drooled over male actors, which somehow I just did
n’t mind as much as Nicki’s teen magazine pullouts), a homemade quilt, and even more books and movies than I owned.

  As we both attempted to cram our book collections into the dorm’s tiny built-in shelves, I had a sudden realization: I still had to buy my books for the semester. “Crap,” I said aloud.

  “What’s wrong?” Kim asked, looking up from a pile of paperback romance novels she was trying to fit under her bed.

  “I still have to get my books. For class, I mean.” “Oh, me too. We still have tomorrow, though.” “I know,” I sighed, “but it will be packed then, and I really wanted to just sleep in one last day before the semester starts.” I glanced at the clock. “I could just make it if I go now…but I’m all sweaty and gross.”

  Kim glanced at me. “You look fine to me,” she said. “Besides, there’s hardly anyone on campus yet. Most people like to come rolling in sometime after noon tomorrow.”

  The bookstore was empty when I got there, apart from a cranky and lethargic senior at the register who seemed put out that she couldn’t close up early. I was almost all the way through my book list, arms piled high with heavy and expensive textbooks, when another student burst in.

  From behind one of the shelves, I watched in dismay as Chad Chang made his way through the store. I knew I should have gone with my first instinct: Avoid people when sweaty. It wasn’t as if he really knew me, but we had taken a class together the previous year. He was a year ahead of me, and had a reputation for being one of the best looking guys on campus. I was half surprised he wasn’t followed in by some of his constant admirers.

  Still, I wasn’t eager to be seen by him, grungy as I felt, let alone talk to him. I quickly made my way up to the counter with the rest of my books, hoping to slip out unnoticed. Not that I thought he’d notice me, exactly. But if I ever was going to be noticed by him, I didn’t really want it to be when I was coated in sweat.

  As the grumpy cashier rang me up with agonizing slothfulness, I suddenly heard a voice right behind me ask her, “Do you have any more copies of ‘Intro to Algebra?’”