I slunk into my room and slammed the door. I kind of wanted to cry, but I was still too strung out for that. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d cried. Maybe I couldn’t anymore. I slid my bag off and collapsed onto the bed, curling up on my side still fully clothed. I didn’t see much point in sleeping, since I’d have to get up in like three hours to go to school. I definitely wasn’t skipping, not after my parents were already so upset. I could feel myself drifting off though, so I reached down to grab my phone and set my alarm.
With all the calls from my parents, I’d missed a text from Rick. Hey Javier. Lunch tomorrow?
I smiled, and the next thing I knew, my alarm was going off somewhere on the floor, and sunlight was streaming through my dingy curtains.
I slept in my contacts by the way. Fantastic. And it wasn’t as if I could just take a break from wearing them, since people would probably notice if I was in class with glowing blue eyes. Instead I just brought my bottle of saline with me and went to the bathroom between classes to shoot it into my eyes. Between that and the three hours of sleep, I was surprised Rick didn’t think I was high when we met at the mall food court for lunch. He did ask if I was okay, which was nice.
I shrugged. “Yeah, I just worked late.”
“Oh, do you work tomorrow? I was just wondering if you wanted to come to my place after school. My dad’s on a business trip, and my mom’s taking my sister to some cadet thing, so we’d have the place to ourselves.”
“Oh.” I blinked at him. “I don’t know.”
“I mean—” Rick looked chagrined. “We don’t have to . . . We could do anything. We could, like, watch a movie or go swimming or something.”
“No, it’s not that— Wait, you have a pool?”
“Uh, yeah. Why?”
I shook my head. “No way, I can’t.”
“We don’t have to go swimming.”
“No, I can’t . . .” I took a sip of my pop. “I can’t go to your house, I’d feel weird.”
“Well, okay, but . . . why?”
“Because.” I waved my arms. “You’ve seen where I live. The only reason someone like me would end up in your parent’s pool is if I was cleaning it.”
Rick laughed out loud. “Come on, Javier. My parents aren’t like that.”
“Really? Who do they get to clean the pool?”
“Uh . . . some guy.”
I raised my eyebrows at him. “What’s his name?”
“Felipe—you’re being unfair!”
“Uh-huh.” I took another sip of my drink. “Have you told your parents you’re dating a pool boy?”
“You’re not a pool boy!” Rick was almost out of his chair in agitation. “Javier . . .”
“Calm down, I’m just messing with you. Anyway, what’s wrong with being a pool boy?”
“I’m beginning to see why you’re friends with Kendall.” He sat back down.
“What do you mean by that?”
“No way.” Rick threw his hands up, but he was laughing. “I’m not saying anything else.”
I grinned at him. “I’ll come to your house. But I’m not swimming.”
“Never said you had to swim.”
“What movies do you have?”
“What movies do you like?”
So that was how I ended up at Rick’s place after school the next day. And it was even worse than I’d imagined. And by worse I mean huge. It looked, no lie, like the freaking White House. With big pillars on either side of the door, and big rectangular windows, and the front yard all manicured.
And then we walked in the front door, and I resolved right then and there that I was never, ever, ever letting Rick see my apartment. Not even if we ended up getting married and spending the rest of our lives together. And it was no shade on my parents or anything, it was just . . . this place, it was from another world. You walked in the front door and the floors were all light hardwood, and the ceiling went up two stories and there was a big winding staircase in front of us. I kid you not. A winding staircase. With dripping crystal chandelier stuff hanging from the ceiling. The whole place felt all airy and peaceful, and kind of museum-ish.
I stood there gawking like an idiot while Rick took my coat, and then he led me up the stairs and down a big hallway into his bedroom.
You know how they say you can tell a lot about a person from their bedroom? That was so totally true of Rick. He had a big shelf with awards and framed photos, and one of those triangular cloth things with the school logo on it on the wall. I don’t know what they’re called, okay? And then a bunch of pictures of football players, and an entertainment stand with a flat-screen TV and a huge collection of movies and video games, and of course, a desk with a shiny new iMac. And his room was, like, clean. All neat and tidy with his bed made and everything in its place. As opposed to my room, where the bed was never made, it was a miracle if you could see the floor, and my closet was perpetually open with every single thing I’ve ever acquired since I was six spilling out of it. Rick’s closet was closed, and I bet if you opened it, there’d be shelves with his shoes and stuff all neatly lined up on them. Because that was Rick.
I went to the window and gazed out over the big, fenced backyard and the picture-perfect suburbia beyond. They did have a pool, and for a moment I wished we could go swimming in it. I imagined waiting until the nighttime and skinny-dipping with Rick, the glow from my skin lighting up the pool while we pressed our bodies together . . .
I cleared my throat and turned around. Rick was standing in the doorway, looking nervous.
“It’s really nice,” I said. “Seriously, your house is beautiful.”
“I know,” he said, a little sheepishly. “I never thought about it before. I kind of want to see your place now.”
I smirked and shook my head. “Nooo, you don’t.”
“I do. I bet it’s got personality.”
“Ha!” I laughed and went over to the TV stand. “You weren’t lying, you do have every single season of Star Trek on DVD.”
“I can’t believe you don’t like sci-fi!”
“We live in a city where hundreds of people got superpowers when a chemical reactor exploded. That’s not sci-fi enough for you?”
Rick surprised me by coming up behind me and grabbing me around the waist. “Okay, so what do you like? You said . . . Westerns?”
“Do you have any?”
“I have an episode of Star Trek set in the old west.”
“No, come on.”
“I don’t!” Rick kissed the side of my neck, sending shivers down my body. “I bet there’s something on Netflix though.”
“I’ve seen all the Westerns on Netflix.”
He kissed my neck again, and then up under my ear. “So show them to me.”
“Fine.” I giggled. “Fine, but you have to stop that!”
“Mmm. Okay.” He didn’t stop. I think he could tell I didn’t want him to. Instead his hands roamed around my waist and up over my stomach.
“Rick. Seriously.” I leaned back and tilted my head sideways to kiss him.
“Sorry!” He pulled away and ducked around me to turn on the TV. “I’m terrible. Honestly, just smack me if I try to go too far.”
“It’s fine.” I was doing my very best not to melt into the floor. “You’ll know if I want you to stop.”
Rick went and lay on the bed, propping some pillows up and grabbing the controller. “Okay, Westerns . . .”
I crawled on to the bed next to him. He chose a Clint Eastwood movie and clapped to turn the light off.
I’d seen this one like a million times with my dad, but I got into it anyway, relaxing on Rick’s comfortable bed and leaning on his shoulder. Everything was going great, until at a particularly exciting part, I glanced over and realized that Rick wasn’t watching the movie; he was looking at me.
“You’re not even paying attention!” I yelled, swatting him with a pillow.
“Hey, sorry!” He ducked out of the way. “Sorry, ow! You
distracted me!”
“I’m just sitting here all slouched! How is that distracting?”
“You’re so into it.” Rick hunched his shoulders defensively. “It’s really cute. Sometimes you mouth the lines.”
I buried my face in the pillow, knocking my glasses askew. “Oh my god, that’s so embarrassing!” I lifted my head out of the pillow so I could glare at him.
“I’m sorry.” He gave me a lopsided grin. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. You’re just really pretty. I like looking at you. And . . .” His face became apologetic. “It’s a really boring movie.”
“It’s an awesome movie! It’s quintessential! Cinematic! You just can’t appreciate it.”
“I know, I know!” Rick put his hands up in defeat. “How’d you get into them anyway?”
I rolled my head. “My dad. He loves them. When we first moved to America, I thought it was gonna be like the Wild West, and I was so excited.”
“Not so much?” Rick grinned again
“Not at all.” I pouted. “And there’s just, you know, something about them. They’re simple. You know who the bad guys are.”
“Yeah, that’s what I don’t like about them.” Rick leaned back on the pillows. “Real life isn’t that simple.”
“No, but the rules still apply. If you hurt people for personal gain, you’re a bad person.”
“Sure but how do you know what someone’s motivation is? You can’t. I don’t know. I used to agree with you.”
“So what changed?”
“I don’t know.” Rick jerked his shoulder into a shrug. “I grew up, I guess. After that accident, it’s like . . . things got more complicated. Morality didn’t seem so black-and-white anymore. Like, take the League, for example. We grow up being told that superheroes are the good guys, right? We get it force-fed down our throat. But what if that’s not the truth?”
“It is though.” I felt a bit of nerves and unhappiness in the pit of my stomach. “They help people.”
“Yeah, sure, to keep their public image good. I mean, who knows what kind of agenda they’ve got going on underneath.”
“I don’t think—”
“Yeah, but you don’t know,” said Rick. “I don’t know. It just makes me feel . . . I don’t know.” He sank down onto the bed. Despite being a little annoyed at him for dissing the League, I wanted to make him feel better. I brushed a piece of black hair out of his eyes and leaned tentatively up against him again. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I guess that car crash really messed me up.”
“It would anyone,” I said, trying to reassure him, even though I didn’t really know if anything would help.
“I feel . . .” He grabbed my hand, playing with my fingers. “I feel like there’s this darkness inside of me, you know?” He squeezed my hand and let it go. “Sorry, that’s a weird thing to say.”
“No.” I looked up at him. “I feel that way sometimes too. I think everyone does.”
“Or maybe we’re both just messed up.”
“Maybe.” I put my cheek back down on his chest. “I think you’re a good guy, Rick.”
“Thanks.” He slid an arm around me. “You too.”
I craned my head up to kiss him, and then rolled over so I was lying on him, our bodies pressed together. His hands moved down my back again, but didn’t go under my shirt this time. I could feel myself getting . . . well, you know, and I wondered if maybe we should stop.
If it weren’t for what he’d said about the League, I’d probably have just told him right then and there. I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I didn’t want to stop kissing him.
Our phones started ringing at the same time. Which later I thought was weird, but at the time I didn’t even notice because I was a bit, um, distracted. The contrasting melodies were pretty annoying though, so we sort of awkwardly detangled ourselves and went to answer them.
It was a call from the League. I picked up, and with a nervous glance at Rick, darted out into the hall.
“Yeah?”
“Blue Spark? This is Beth, at the League dispatch, requesting all hero support to the business sector.”
“What?” I held my hand up to my mouth and whispered. “What’s going on?”
“There’s really no time to explain in detail, but we need help evacuating civilians. How soon can you be here?”
The bedroom door opened, and Rick barreled out past me. He turned to look at me, eyes wide, as if he’d forgotten I was there. “Sorry, uh, Javier.” He was clutching a backpack to his chest. “I, uh, gotta go to work. Emergency.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Me too, could you drive me?”
He swallowed. “Yeah, sure. Downtown?”
“Uh-huh. You could just drop me off.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
I brought the phone up to my ear. “Maybe ten minutes?”
“Affirmative. As quick as you can, please.” The line went dead.
Rick was already striding away, and I ran after him, down the spiral staircase and out the front door, which he locked hurriedly. The radio was on in his car, an emergency news broadcast playing.
“Civilians are being asked to stay clear of the business sector, while evacuation efforts are underway from Pine Street to South Delta. Initial assessments report damage to three buildings, and several vehicles and streets, as what appears to be an all-out battle between the League of Liberty and the Organization continues.”
I gripped the side of the seat, jerking forward so fast that my seat belt locked. “What?”
Rick swore. “Well, what’d I tell you?”
“I wonder what happened,” I said quietly, and Rick looked out the window. He was driving fast.
“Sources are unclear as to what incited the incident,” the reporter went on. “After over two decades of relative peace, the tyrannical rule of the Organization over Liberty City is a distant memory to many. Could this battle hint to a possible return of those frightening days—”
Rick scoffed and turned the radio off.
“It’s probably nothing.” I swallowed. “They just like to sensationalize.”
“They like to make people panic and hate the Organization.”
“Um.” I turned to him. “What’s not to hate about the Organization? Do you know some of the stuff they did to people in the eighties?”
“Yeah, sure. I don’t want to talk about it, we’ll probably just disagree.”
“Probably.” I thumped back in my seat. “You can drop me off up here. I’ll get the train.”
The train only went like halfway there, of course, because evacuation, and then I had to do the whole running-and-jumping-along-rooftops thing, which I’m sure you know by now is my absolute favorite.
When I got there, it was like a disaster zone. The big shiny building we’d been in the other night was up in flames, big chunks missing from it, and black smoke billowing out of the holes. The pavement had huge craters in some places, and was buckled like there’d been an earthquake in others. Cars were toppled over and burning, windows were smashed, alarms were going off, and everywhere you looked there were superheroes and villains, all frantically battling it out like Smash Brothers. Only, you know, actually super dangerous and generally not at all like an enjoyable classic video game. Forget that reference.
There were civilians around too, huddled behind cars and inside store fronts, and I guessed that was where I came in. Most of the heroes were too distracted by villains to be able to do much except try to direct the damage away from civilians. Part of me wanted to help them, but Junior Heroes were technically not supposed to get into fights with the Organization, and they’d called me here specifically to help with evacuations.
And anyway, that was what superheroes were supposed to do, right? Help people.
I dropped down to a café with a bunch people inside and started herding them out, introducing myself as I did so, and trying to reassure several old men who didn’t seem
to want to listen to me. My phone dinged, letting me know that there was an evacuation vehicle around the corner. I led them all along the smashed-up sidewalk, helping them over a particularly large crater at one point, and jumping in the air to catch a falling billboard at another. I’d probably be feeling that in my shoulders for months.
I got them to the transport vehicle, a city bus driven by a very determined-looking old woman. Once they were on, she announced that she couldn’t hold any more and shut the door, driving off along the narrow strip of the road that was still intact. I turned around to see if there was anyone else I could help, and that’s when I saw him.
Jimmy Black. Of course. He was, well, there was no other word for it. Skulking. Up to no good. I watched him pass by a hero and villain beating the crap out of each other, and then sneakily followed after him. Okay, well, maybe not quite as sneakily as I thought, because he turned right around and met my eyes, and then ran off.
“Hey!” I yelled. “Come back here! What are you up to?”
He ignored me, dodging into a McDonald’s. I followed him, determined.
“Hey!” I shouted at him again, throwing the door open. “Jimmy Black, I’m talking to you!”
He ignored me and sauntered lazily up to the counter. “Can I get some service here?” He rapped on the table. The few staff members that were still present gave both of us horrified stares and skittered away out the back door. Jimmy watched them go, and then peered over the counter. “Hello? I want to order a burger!”
“What the hell are you doing?” I gaped at him.
He glared at me. “Ordering a burger, what’s it look like?”
I glared right back. “You’re up to something. I know it.”
He shrugged. “Think what you want.” He left the counter and headed toward the back of the restaurant. I followed him, a few paces behind, and he turned to face me. Even with his arms spread, and his posture relaxed, I didn’t trust him. He was so much bigger than me, and so much darker. Looking at him was like trying to see in a room that was pitch-black. “I’m just going to the bathroom. Nothing to see.”
Junior Hero Blues Page 8
