by Jason Starr
He checked his phone—no response yet from Jennifer. It would be great if they went out again and hit it off, and this evolved into an actual relationship. Scott was happiest when he was in a stable relationship, but he hadn’t been in one since the first few years of his marriage. Who was he kidding? Since the first few months of his marriage. And it would be great if Cassie had a positive female role model in her life—even a step-mom, eventually.
Later in the evening, he was sitting at the edge of his couch/bed, looking at his phone, when he heard:
“Hey, I’m not gonna have to read that text out loud, am I?”
Cassie was near her room and had just finished brushing her teeth.
Scott smiled, realizing that he was acting like the teenager in the household.
“Haha, got me,” he said. “Goodnight, Sweetie.”
“Goodnight, Daddy.”
She kissed him on the cheek and went into her bedroom.
Scott watched the TV news—nothing about Willie Dugan, or an official identification of his body. In international news, Cap and Natasha, the Black Widow, had busted a Hydra heist in Thailand. Whenever Scott heard about the achievements of other super heroes, he couldn’t help feeling a pang of jealousy—the way he’d feel if he were an athlete watching a game in which he couldn’t participate. He knew he had his place in the order of things, but sometimes he hated being on the sidelines. He wanted to be in on the action, making the big plays.
On the TV, a reporter at the scene explained how the town had been liberated. A stock photo of Natasha was shown, providing an additional source of angst for Scott. She and Scott had had a little fling during a mission in France a few years ago. Natasha had made it clear from the get-go that this wouldn’t be anything serious, and Scott had thought he’d be up for that. Let’s face it, she was way out of his league—she was way out of everybody’s league. But call him a hopeless romantic, he couldn’t help getting emotionally attached. So yeah, he felt hurt when she took off one morning without even leaving a note. But Scott knew it was probably for the best. He didn’t know whether he was really into Natasha, or the idea of Natasha—a free spirit with no kids, no roots. She could pack up and go whenever she wanted. It was part of what made Scott feel different from most super heroes. He was a parent first and a hero second, and while he envied guys like Tony and Cap, he knew that type of lifestyle wasn’t for him. Being a dad was his most important role, and he wouldn’t give it up for anything.
“Bye-bye, Natasha,” he said, and flicked off the TV.
Yeah, he didn’t need yet another complicated, emotionally unavailable woman in his life, no matter how hot she was.
But Jennifer the photographer—Scott was already falling asleep—now she made sense.
* * *
IN THE morning, Scott still hadn’t heard back from Jennifer. He didn’t think it was such a big deal— some people didn’t text right back. But when he still hadn’t heard back by noon, he started to wonder whether he’d ever hear from her again.
He’d thought she meant it when she said she wanted to see him again, but maybe the thing with her daughter had been a blow-off, after all. Maybe Scott had misread her interest in ants, and he’d freaked her out. Or maybe the stuff about having a driver had sounded odd to her, especially with Carlos lurking outside the diner. Some women felt put on the spot at the ends of dates, and said yes to getting together again when they really just felt awkward saying no.
At lunch at a bagel store around the corner from the office, Carlos asked Scott what was going on with the woman from yesterday.
“Nothing yet,” Scott said, checking his cell. There still was no text from Jennifer, but he’d gotten one from Peggy asking him whether there was anything new about Dugan.
“Don’t fret, bro,” Carlos said. “Good thing you live in New York and not Kansas.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Scott said.
“I’m just saying, don’t worry—there’s a lot more ladies out there. You’ll meet somebody else.”
“But there are a lot of women in Kansas, too,” Scott said.
“I know. It was just a joke,” Carlos said.
“If it’s a joke, say Siberia, or Antarctica—someplace where there really aren’t a lot of women. Not Kansas.”
“Wow,” Carlos said. “You really liked this girl, huh?”
“What?” Scott said, then realized how he was behaving. “I’m sorry, man, I didn’t mean to jump down your throat. Yeah, I guess she did get into my head a little. There was something about her, you know? But, yeah, you’re right. I’m not in Kansas.”
“You mean Antarctica,” Carlos said, smiling.
Scott was absorbed in his work for most of the day, trying to finish the final installs on the job and get the last group of users up and running. He wasn’t thinking about Jennifer, but then he impulsively texted her:
Hope you’re having an amazing day!
As soon as he clicked send, he regretted it. If she didn’t want to go out with him again, getting another text wasn’t going to change her mind. And if she wanted to go out with him and just hadn’t gotten around to texting him yet, this additional text wouldn’t exactly help his cause.
“Whatever,” Scott said to himself. “It’s all good.”
But then he got a reply:
invalid number
Hmm—that was weird. Scott hadn’t gotten the response after sending the previous text. So unless there was a glitch in the cellular network—probably unlikely in this case—Jennifer had discontinued her cell service.
Or there was another possibility: She could have blocked his number. He didn’t think he’d said or done anything that could’ve offended her so much that she’d actually block him. Or had he? Collecting ants on a napkin and setting them free onto the floor of a public restaurant wasn’t exactly behavior that a lot of people considered normal. He’d thought she was one of the exceptions, that she “got it,” but apparently he’d misread her.
Oh well, it was out of his control now. He got back to work on the install. Then Carlos entered.
“We gotta go,” he said. He grabbed Scott the way a Secret Service agent would grab the president and pull him out of harm’s way.
As Carlos was pulling Scott through the office, workers stopped to watch. Scott felt just as confused as they looked. “What’s up? What’re you doing?”
Carlos didn’t answer. He seemed tense and wouldn’t make eye contact.
“Come on, you’re freaking me out,” Scott said. “What is it? Will you just tell me? What happened? Is it Dugan?”
Carlos waited until they were alone, on the elevator heading down to the lobby. Then he said, “It’s Cassie.”
“What is it?” Scott’s pulse was pounding. “She didn’t show up for school again?”
He was ready to get angry at her. Had she gotten into the safe, put on the Ant-Man suit again? He’d changed the combination, so he didn’t see how it was possible, but she was a clever kid—sometimes too clever.
Carlos looked away, as if searching for the right words, then looked right into Scott’s eyes and said, “She was abducted, Scott.”
CASSIE had decided she didn’t like Tucker McKenzie after all. Yeah, he was incredibly cute and awesome, but a lot of boys were incredibly cute and awesome, and it didn’t matter how incredibly cute and awesome a boy was if he was going to be a jerk and totally change and act all cool around his friends just because of something he saw on Instagram.
So the day after Cassie had hit Nikki in the face with the basketball, Cassie decided she would ignore Tucker. Sometimes in the hallway after drama when she’d see him, he’d say “Hey” or “What’s up?” and she’d say “Hi” or “Hey” back. But this time when she passed him and he said, “Hey,” acting like the whole Instagram thing hadn’t even happened, she ignored him, didn’t even make eye contact, and kept walking.
But weirdly, ignoring him seemed to make him more into her. The next day Cassie was leaving Goth
am Pizza on York with a couple of friends, and Tucker was there with his friends. Tucker had never said anything to her before, or even noticed her, when he was with friends. But this time he said, “Hey, Cassie, yo, wait up.”
Cassie’s friends went ahead back to school, and Tucker’s friends walked away, too. Tucker and Cassie were alone, face-to-face for the first time ever.
“Are you like mad at me for something?” Tucker asked.
Playing dumb, Cassie went, “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” Tucker said. “You’ve just been, like, cold to me lately, that’s all. The last couple days, I mean.”
Cassie was trying not to think about how incredibly freakin’ cute Tucker was—what with his smile and wavy brown hair—and how badly she wanted to kiss him.
“I just wanted to say,” he said, “about what you posted on Instagram—”
“I didn’t post it,” Cassie said. “Nikki did, and it was wrong of her to do that because it was just a text, intended for her, and yes I wrote it, but I’m not going to be embarrassed and ashamed about it anymore. It was just a stupid text, so what? I had a feeling at the time—a feeling that just like came to me—and I wrote my friend about it. At least I thought I was writing my friend about it. And I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks. You have no right to laugh at me like it’s a big joke. It was humiliating enough to have something that I didn’t want anyone else to see suddenly out there to be seen by everybody.”
“Whoa, slow down,” Tucker said. “I can’t keep up with you.”
Cassie had been talking fast—she did that a lot when she was nervous.
“Sorry,” Cassie said, “but whatever. It doesn’t matter now, anyway.”
“For the record,” Tucker said, “I was never laughing at you. I didn’t even know about the Instagram thing until this morning, and I was flattered.”
“You were?” Cassie said. “But I don’t get it. When I saw you the other day, you were totally laughing.”
“Must’ve been about something else, something that was actually funny. I don’t think posting other people’s texts is cool at all.”
Was it possible that Cassie had made a mistake? She’d been so upset and humiliated, it was possible she’d jumped to a conclusion about Tucker. Great— she’d already been feeling bad about putting on the Ant-Man suit and accidentally breaking Nikki’s nose; now she had something else to feel bad about.
“Oh, wow,” Cassie said. “I had like no idea.”
“It’s cool,” Tucker said. “Hey, do you want to go Carl Schurz one day? I can’t till next week ’cause I have an SAT prep class and lacrosse practice, but next week would be awesome. I mean, if you’re into it.”
Carl Schurz was a park uptown. Was she asleep and dreaming, or was Tucker McKenzie asking her to hang out with him?
“Wait, this isn’t part of the joke?” Cassie asked. “If I say yes, you’re going to start laughing at me.”
“I promise you, I won’t laugh,” he said.
It was cute; he seemed nervous, like he was afraid that she would reject him.
“Okay, then yes,” she said. “I’d love that.”
They walked back to school together—actually together. She had fantasized about walking somewhere with Tucker so many times, and now it was happening. The fantasy was real.
“Can I ask you a question?” Tucker said.
Was he going to ask to hold her hand?
“Of course,” she said, hoping her hand wasn’t too sweaty.
“Who’s that old dude following us?”
“Old dude?” Cassie was confused.
“I think I’ve seen him around school, too,” Tucker said.
Cassie looked back at Roger, trailing them about half a block behind. Cassie had been so absorbed, she’d forgotten about Roger.
“Oh, him,” Cassie said. “If I tell you, can you promise to keep a secret?”
“Of course,” Tucker said.
“Well, you might get totally freaked out, but he’s an FBI agent—a federal marshal—who has to follow me around for some reason I don’t know, and even if I did know, I wouldn’t be allowed to tell you about it.” Ugh. Cassie was talking fast again, probably making a fool of herself—she couldn’t help it.
“You serious?” Tucker asked. “He’s really with the FBI?”
“I’d never lie to you about anything,” Cassie said.
“That’s so cool,” he said.
“That I won’t lie to you or that I have my own FBI agent?” she asked.
“Both,” he said.
At school, Cassie wished she didn’t have to say goodbye to Tucker. She wished they were already in the park, and there weren’t any other people around.
“See ya later,” he said.
She went to her next class, drama, but she didn’t know why she was bothering. She knew she wouldn’t be able to focus on anything except Tucker McKenzie and how this was definitely the happiest day of her life.
* * *
THE NEXT day, Nikki was back in school for the first time since her nose had been broken by the basketball. She had a big bandage taped around her nose, and Cassie felt awful. She remembered what her dad had told her, how she had to figure out a way to atone for her sins with Nikki. Well, he hadn’t said “atone” or “sins,” but that had been the gist of it. Her dad was always telling her that you get what you give in life, which was kind of annoying. Especially because he was right.
Cassie couldn’t muster up the courage to say anything to Nikki during homeroom, but afterward, she walked up to Nikki in the hallway and said, “Hey, I heard about your nose. I’m really sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” Nikki said. “It’s not your fault.”
Cassie flashed back to herself—ant-sized—winging the basketball at Nikki’s face.
“Yeah, I know that,” Cassie said. “What I mean is I feel bad it happened to you. Does it hurt?”
“When it happened it hurt like hell,” she said. “Yesterday it still killed, but the doctor gave me some painkillers, and it’s not so bad when I take them. Today it just hurts, but at least it doesn’t feel like my whole head’s about to explode.”
“That sucks,” Cassie said, “Maybe I can like help you do your precalc homework sometime.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean after school sometime, or over the weekend, I’ll help you with precalc. I mean, I know you hate math, and you said your parents were even thinking you should get a tutor. And since math comes easy to me, I thought…I’d just be happy to help you, that’s all.”
They were at the end of the hallway, near the stairs. Kids passed by, laughing and talking without noticing them.
“I don’t get it,” Nikki said. “Why are you being nice to me?”
“No reason,” Cassie said. “Just because.”
“But there’s no reason to be nice,” she went on. “I’m the one who should be nice. When I was at the hospital, getting my nose looked at, I thought about what I jerk I was to you. And it’s weird, but I thought maybe I like deserved to have that basketball break my nose.”
“You didn’t deserve it,” Cassie said. “It was just an accident.”
“No, it wasn’t an accident,” Nikki said. “It happened by itself. I know this is gonna sound crazy, but the ball just flew up from the ground and hit me in the nose all by itself. No one threw it at me.”
“But Keely hit you with the ball,” Cassie said. “I mean, that’s what I’ve heard people saying, anyway.”
“No, that’s what Coach Jill said happened,” Nikki said, “so of course the principal and the dean believed her because she’s the teacher. But Coach Jill’s lying— she didn’t see anything. Even Keely herself said she didn’t throw it at me, but the principal said I’m just denying it to protect Keely, which is so untrue. If she hit me with the ball, I’d say she hit me with the ball, I’d want her to get in trouble for it, but she didn’t hit me with the ball, the ball hit me all by itself. I
know it sounds crazy, because I feel crazy even saying it, but that’s what happened, and it’s so incredibly frustrating that nobody believes me. Everybody thinks I’m crazy. Even my own parents think I’m crazy.”
Nikki was crying, the tears dripping down the bandage on her nose.
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Cassie said.
“Everybody thinks I’m crazy,” Nikki said. “Everybody who was there and everybody who wasn’t there.”
“I believe it happened,” Cassie said.
“You do? You’re not just saying that?”
“No. I know you, and if you say it happened, then it happened.”
“But how did it happen? It’s crazy.”
“Who cares?” Cassie said.
Nikki stared at Cassie for a few seconds, as if trying to figure out whether she was serious. Then she hugged her and said, “Wow, thank you. You’re amazing.”
Cassie was happy, too—it was great to have her best friend back.
“Hey, you want to go shopping on Eighty-Sixth Street after school?” Nikki asked.
“I’d love that, but I can’t today,” Cassie said.
Nikki turned for a moment and looked toward the end of the hallway where Roger was lurking, and then she turned back. “What’s up with that guy, anyway?” Nikki asked.
“Oh, he’s just nobody,” Cassie said.
“Zoe said you told her he’s a school supervisor?” Nikki sounded confused. “Has he been following you around every day? What’s a school supervisor?”
“Yeah, he just like monitors student performance, you know, like a school performance monitor,” Cassie said, knowing this didn’t make any sense. Then she added, “I mean, it’s like a school-survey-type thing. You know, research for the Board of Education—it’s no big deal. Oh, wow, I have to get something from my locker before next period. Text you later.”
Cassie had gotten away this time. But she knew it was going to be hard to keep Roger and the whole protection thing a secret from Nikki and everybody else for much longer, especially since she had already told Tucker about it.
