by Jason Starr
Scott had met the principal, a squat, balding guy—Michael something. He let Carlos explain that Cassie was missing.
“How do you know she’s missing?” Michael asked.
Scott was too impatient to deal with these questions. He said, “How do you know she’s absent? Maybe there’s a mistake. Can you call her teacher?”
The blonde woman went to make a call. Scott noticed several ants, in a line, marching across the floor. This wasn’t unusual, of course.
Or was it?
He glanced toward the wall near the door and saw a couple ants there, as well.
“I’m sure there’s some explanation,” Michael said. “So this has to do with the protective-custody situation? Another agent talked to me yesterday.”
“We’re not sure what it’s related to,” Carlos said.
Scott looked across the hallway and saw a girl being escorted to the nurse’s office by a female teacher. The girl had a bloody towel over her nose.
“I hope it’s all okay,” Michael said. “Sorry, it’s been a crazy morning here today already, and the day’s just beginning.”
“Why crazy?” Scott asked.
“There was an incident in gym class,” Michael said.
“What type of incident?”
Michael had a look that asked, What difference does it make? He said, “Appears to have been some sort of accident.”
The blonde office worker came over and said, “I just checked with her homeroom teacher. She definitely didn’t arrive at school today.”
A thought was hitting Scott, a possible explanation for all of this, but he didn’t want to go there. Not yet, anyway.
As he rushed out of the school, he heard Carlos calling out, “Hey, where’re you going now?”
Scott returned to his apartment building.
Roger was in front. He asked, “Was she there?”
Scott walked right past him.
“The building has been under video surveillance, as well,” Roger said, “so there has to be an explanation.”
Heading up, two stairs at a time, Scott passed George, who was annoyed and sweaty, and said, “Not on the roof, just like I said.”
Scott ignored George. He went into his apartment, right to the closet.
The boxes looked undisturbed, and the safe was locked. Maybe he was wrong about this. After all, how would Cassie have figured out how to open the safe? It had been manufactured in Germany, was one of the most secure home safes on the market, and he had never told the combination to anyone. Maybe this had nothing to do with the Ant-Man suit. Maybe Cassie had been telling the truth yesterday, and she really had been searching for her gloves in the closet.
But he opened the lock—and, sure enough, the suit was gone.
“No, Cassie,” Scott said. “You didn’t? Why? Why?”
He imagined the worst—Cassie getting injured or killed—and it would be his fault. He’d been working hard and trying to be a responsible dad, and he’d given his kid access to a suit that could shrink her to the size of an ant. What kind of parent was he? Did he even deserve to be a father?
But he could blame himself later—right now all he cared about was finding Cassie. If she’d put on the suit and figured out how to operate it, that could explain how she had bypassed the FBI agents. But Cassie wasn’t practiced with the suit. She could be ant-sized now, on the loose somewhere in the school or in the city. And she could get herself killed.
He was going to head back to the school when he noticed a couple of ants on the wall near the closet. Was it possible that Cassie was somewhere in the apartment?
Scott was thoroughly terrified, on his knees, crawling around, searching for his ant-sized daughter, when he heard: “What is it?”
Roger had entered.
Scott considered telling Roger the truth. After all, the whole reason for keep his identity a secret was to protect Cassie. But now that she could be in danger, maybe he should take advantage of all the help he could get to find her.
He was about to blurt it out, tell Roger about Ant-Man, but he caught himself. He realized that if Cassie were the size of a fingernail it was doubtful the FBI, or anyone, could track her down any faster than he could.
“Just looking for my, um, keys,” Scott said.
“Oh,” Roger said, “I’ll help you.”
“No,” Scott snapped. Then, calmer, he said, “I mean, I can find them myself, thanks. Actually, I just want to be alone for a little while, okay?”
“Sure, I understand,” Roger said. “And just so you know, we put an APB out to the NYPD and federal law enforcement in the area. We’ll locate Cassie soon, I promise you.”
Scott thought, Yeah, I hope you’re all using magnifying glasses. “I appreciate it, thanks,” he said. “I’m sure she’s just hiding somewhere. You know, playing hooky.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Roger said.
When Roger left, Scott resumed crawling around the apartment, saying, “Cassie? Cassie, where the hell are you?”
WHEN Cassie had heard the front door shut— meaning her dad had left for work—she went right to the closet, opened the safe, and took out the Ant-Man suit. She replaced everything in the closet to make it looked untouched, and then shut the door.
As she expected, the suit didn’t fit her, but she had an idea. If the Pym gas shrank people, couldn’t it shrink objects—like the suit itself? It was worth a shot.
Cassie opened the canister and pressed a metal lever. Nothing happened. She tried again, harder, and the suit suddenly shrunk to the size of a Barbie outfit. Wow, pretty cool, but now it was hard to find the lever. She did, with her fingernail, and pushed it the opposite way. The suit expanded, but it was still way too small for her. It took a lot of tries, but she finally got the suit and helmet to a size that fit her perfectly.
The helmet had antennae and an opening for her mouth, and a big round ant-like space to look out. Wow, this would be awesome to wear on Halloween. She’d been to a party once where some kid was in an Ant-Man costume. What if she went next Halloween as the real thing? She could make a bet, go, “I’ll bet you a thousand dollars that I can shrink to the size of an ant,” and then she’d actually do it. She could make a fortune in this thing, enough to buy any clothes she wanted. Forget H&M—she’d be shopping on Madison Avenue.
She was ready to shrink, but she was a little scared. She didn’t think the suit could damage her body, or else her dad would be dead by now; but she’d always been afraid of things she’d never tried before. She reminded herself that she’d been scared to go zip-lining that time two summers ago and then then she did it and it wasn’t so scary; it was actually fun. So she did what she always did when she was scared—closed her eyes and counted backwards from ten. Her pulse was pounding, but when she said “one,” she bravely pushed the lever.
Nothing happened.
She didn’t get it. She tried a few more times; still, nothing happened. Maybe to get the suit to work you had to do something else. There wasn’t an “on” button or anything.
“That would be too easy, dad, right?” she said aloud.
There didn’t seem to be any sort of activation switch in the helmet, either. There was a mesh-like part in the chin area. She blew into it, but nothing happened.
She tried to remember how her dad used the suit. She’d only seen him shrink himself a few times, and each time she’d been so awed by the sight of him suddenly becoming miniscule that she hadn’t really paid much attention to anything else.
Her dad had only told her about his secret identity about a year ago. Mom had gone away to live in Oregon and Cassie was upset, crying a lot. Her dad took her aside and said, “Cassie, it’s really important for me to be a good father to you. Actually, it’s the most important thing in my life—my main reason for living. And part of being a good father is being trustworthy, and part of being trustworthy is being honest, so I want to be honest with you about everything.”
She’d thought he was going to apologi
ze to her for something, the way he was always apologizing to her mom for all of the bad stuff he’d done in the past. But instead, he said he had to tell her about a “big secret” he’d been keeping from her.
He told her about Ant-Man and Dr. Pym. He told her that he had the ability to shrink to the size of an ant while maintaining his proportional strength, and that he could communicate with other ants, and that sometimes he went on missions with other super heroes to fight evil in New York and around the world.
Of course she didn’t believe him. She thought it was all just some story to make her feel better, like when parents tell their kids there is a tooth fairy. But then he said he’d show her, and he put on the suit. She still thought it was some kind of lie, but it was a lie she wanted to believe. What girl didn’t want to believe that her dad was a super hero?
“Okay, ready,” he said. “Stand back. And when I shrink, don’t panic. I’ll still be able to talk to you in my normal voice, and I can turn back to my normal size at any time. Are you okay? You promise this won’t scare you?”
She still thought he was joking around. He’d say, “Whoops, it didn’t work today, maybe next time”— but it would be okay anyway, because she knew it was just a fantasy. She wasn’t expecting anything to actually happen.
But then he did it—right in front of her. He activated the Pym gas—she remembered that part— and an instant later, it seemed like he had disappeared.
“Cassie, I’m right here. Wave to me.”
Then she spotted him on the floor—the size of an ant.
“Oh my god,” she said, and crouched right over him so she could get a better look.
It was her dad, all right. And yeah, he was waving to her.
Now, as she continued to figure out some way to activate the Ant-Man suit, she started to feel ridiculous. Why was she doing this, anyway? Her dad would be so mad at her if he found out. Was it worth it just to get revenge on Nikki? That would feel great, but it wouldn’t make Tucker McKenzie forget what he’d seen on Instagram—and it wouldn’t get him to want to hang out with her, which was all she really wanted.
She was about to give up, to put away the suit, when she felt some lever-like thing in the sleeve above her left hand. There was one in the right sleeve, too. She pushed the left one up and felt a buzz in her body, like a small electric shock—kind of like when she was wearing a wool sweater and touched a metal doorknob on a cold day. She tried it with the other sleeve, and the same thing happened. It was weird and cool, but they were just little shocks; nothing seemed to be happening. It was probably just something to do with the material the suit was made from.
Then, just for the hell of it, she pushed both levers at once while releasing the Pym gas, and something definitely happened because suddenly all she could see was this huge grayish hairy thing. She reached out and touched it; it felt like a puffy dandelion. Wait, was the gray thing a dust ball?
She looked to her left and saw more gray stuff over something that looked like a big blue field. She knew that blue—it was her carpet.
“Oh my god, this is so freakin’ cool,” she said.
She took a step forward, and her legs felt normal. She wriggled her hands; they felt normal, too. Everything about her seemed normal—well, except that she was the size of an ant.
Then she tried to run. Big mistake. In an instant, she zipped across the entire rug in a blur and smashed into something—maybe the end table. It didn’t hurt at all, though—whatever the suit was made of, it sure was strong.
She tried to run again, and this time she ran into a blur of white—probably a wall. She continued running around for a while, bumping into things and bouncing off as if she were the ball inside a giant pinball machine. It was like skiing or roller skating, she realized: She was going to suck at it at first, but she’d eventually get the hang of it. This was way more fun than any ride she’d ever been on at Great Adventure or Disney, or any video game she’d ever played. Why hadn’t her dad ever told her how awesome being Ant-Man was?
Cassie laughed and, though it sounded like her normal laugh, she wondered whether people would be able to hear it.
Could people hear her voice at all? There were a lot of things she needed to figure out about this, and it was definitely more fun than going to school.
She wondered what would happen if she jumped.
Bad idea.
She leaped what she thought would be a foot off the ground, but instead she catapulted into the air and smashed her head against the ceiling. Again, though, it didn’t hurt at all, and it was way more fun than it was scary.
After several minutes of darting and jumping around the apartment, she already felt more in control of her movements. Also, weirdly, she was able to see objects clearly when she focused on them, kind of the way a telescope can zoom in. She didn’t know how she was able to do this, as she wasn’t pressing any buttons or levers. It seemed as if she was doing it all with her mind.
She could’ve stayed in the apartment all day and had a blast, exploring her abilities, but there was a reason she’d put on the Ant-Man suit. It was time to get going.
She crept under the door—this was so awesome; she didn’t need keys anymore!—and went to the top of the landing. She counted, “One, two, three…” and jumped.
It was perfect—well, almost perfect. She hit her destination at the bottom of the landing, on the fourth floor—but then she bounced off the wall, hit the ceiling, and tumbled down the next staircase. She screamed like she was on a roller coaster until she landed on the second floor. She was totally fine, but she decided to take the stairs one by one down to the ground floor.
She slipped under the vestibule door, zipping over a copy of The New York Times, and went outside. Out on the street, she saw legs in front of her. She looked up and zoomed in on Roger, the FBI agent, who was waiting to take her to school.
Trying out her voice, she said, “Hey! Hey!” But Roger had no reaction. He didn’t seem to hear her at all.
Having fun, Cassie jumped up in front of Roger’s face and said, “See ya later, dude!”
She was laughing, but he had no idea. He must’ve thought she was a fly or a gnat or something because he swatted her with his hand and muttered, “Get!”— she could hear him clearly—and she fell on top of a garbage can.
“Hey, that wasn’t nice,” she said. Then she jumped onto the sidewalk and headed toward First Avenue.
That’s when she saw all the ants.
She’d seen magnified images of ants in books and online, but nothing could have prepared her for the gigantic-looking bugs. They looked like aliens. Scary aliens.
“Oh my god, gross,” she said. Then she said, “Please…please stay away from me, okay?”
Was she really talking to ants, expecting them to understand her?
Now the ants were coming from everywhere, like an invading army. She was ready to turn back the other way and run, but she was outnumbered—they would swarm her.
But it quickly became obvious that the ants had no intention of hurting her. She wasn’t getting any kind of menacing vibe—and maybe she’d already gotten used to how they looked close up, because they didn’t look scary anymore, either. If anything, they seemed scared of her, or at least in awe. They formed lines around her, watching her the way people come to watch the president, or some other famous person, pass by in a parade. She felt loyalty, respect, even love from the ants.
Another weird thing: From such a close vantage point, all the ants looked different. She used to think that all ants looked alike, but now she could see that, just as humans had different features that set them apart from one another, so did the ants. They had different size eyes, antennae, legs, coloring, even facial expressions. There were kid ants, teenage ants, adult ants, and older, wiser grandparent-like ants. There was a sense of community, order—just like with humans.
Cassie slowly walked past the ants, feeling so different than the way she felt at school, especially lately. She remembered how
Nikki and her friends had laughed at her yesterday during lunch. Sometimes at school, she felt like no one really cared about her. Yeah, okay, she had a few good friends—but even Nikki, someone she thought was her best friend, had turned on her. If you couldn’t trust your best friend, who could you trust?
But strangely, Cassie trusted these ants—more than she’d trust any human except maybe her dad. She felt respect from them, knew they’d always have her back. The ants made her feel confident, important.
Now she couldn’t wait to get to school and get on with her plan.
She kind of jogged up the street, afraid to go too fast—First Avenue wasn’t far away, and she didn’t want to shoot off into traffic. She had to pass over leaves, twigs, gum, candy wrappers, spit, dog poop—she still had a human-like sense of smell, that was for sure— and other gross-looking stuff. Some things looked so weird up close, she wasn’t sure what they were. She hadn’t seen any other insects yet, and she definitely wasn’t looking forward to meeting a cockroach or water bug—that would be super scary. She did pass a dog on a leash, though, which was unbelievably awesome. It was this little teacup poodle that looked as big as five elephants.
She’d been trying to avoid people, and she continued to stay away from the huge feet as she turned onto the First Avenue sidewalk. She was afraid someone would step on her, but she wondered what would happen if someone did. She didn’t think she’d get squashed—if that were true, her dad would’ve gotten squashed like a million times already.
Then, sure enough, a gigantic-looking boot— probably a Timberland—came down on her, and everything went dark for a second. She felt trapped, as if she were in a tiny room and the lights had suddenly gone out. Part of the shoe was pressing against her head, but amazingly it didn’t hurt at all. Then, as if nothing had happened, the person passed by and Cassie was totally fine.
Whoa. If she was strong enough that a maybe two-hundred-pound man stepping on her didn’t do any damage at all, just how strong was she?
Well, why not find out? At the next corner, she stopped in front of a metal garbage can, which of course appeared to be gigantic. She reached out with one of her tiny hands and pushed the metal. It was like trying to knock down a building—but, sure enough, the garbage can toppled onto the street, all of the trash spilling out.
