The Supervillain and Me

by Danielle Banas

  “What crap were you trying to pull in rehearsal?” I let all my anger rush off me, flooding the space between us, sending the temperature in the room sky high. “Sucking my face off? We had a great kiss in your lab, a perfect kiss even, maybe the best kiss anyone could ever have, and then you thoroughly ruined it! You did a one-eighty like it was no big deal, like you were trying to throw it all back in my face. Like—Hey, why are you smiling?”

  “You … you thought it was a great kiss?” he asked. Pompous prick.

  I pushed my hands through my hair, groaning. Nothing was changing. He was as infuriating as usual. “Stop messing with me! You were there. You know it was a great kiss. Just like you know that what you did to me in rehearsal wasn’t fair. What you’ve been doing this whole time isn’t fair. Now just fess up! Tell me. Tell me, once and for all, what is your name?”

  The room grew silent. I didn’t even think he was breathing. I knew I wasn’t. He leaned against the wall, head tilted to the side like I’d spoken gibberish or something. I crossed my arms over my chest. If he told another lie, after everything we’d been through, I didn’t know how I could move on from that.

  “You…” Iron Phantom cleared his throat. “Abigail, you … you don’t know?” Before I could answer, he pushed past me, pacing at the foot of my bed. “I can’t believe you really don’t know.”

  “Not true. You know exactly who I think you are. I know you aren’t just some random person.”

  “Aren’t I?”

  “Oh my God.” More head games. My fingers curled tight against my palms, so hard that my skin stung. What I did know was that the only guy with a big enough ego to pass as a super was Isaac Jackson. Like Connor, most supers were full of themselves, and Isaac was certainly no exception.

  Isaac had been a fan of Iron Phantom from the start. It was Isaac who had gotten all anxious at rehearsal when Mrs. Miller mentioned Iron Phantom’s name. Isaac who kept looking at me like he was privy to some giant joke that I didn’t know the punch line to. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac.

  Iron Phantom faced me. “You said you know who you think I am. Think,” he spit the word back at me, his eyes blazing. “But you still aren’t positive. Not after all the time we’ve spent together. Not after the first kiss, or hell, not even after the second!”

  I could feel my face burning. How did he manage to turn this around so it was suddenly my fault?

  “Go ahead!” he goaded. “Toss out a name, any name, and see what happens.”

  I opened my mouth, then promptly closed it. I couldn’t say it. He needed to be the one to do it. That was the only way I would know if he was being honest.

  Maybe this was another prank. Just another way for him to confuse me further.

  “See?” Iron Phantom said. “You can’t do it. You aren’t sure.”

  Right as I was getting ready to lash out at him again, his anger faded completely, replaced by a sadness large enough to consume my entire bedroom. His tall frame seemed to shrink a little, curling in on himself.

  “I guess I thought if anyone could figure it out, it would be you.” He headed for my window. “I need to go.”

  “Are you kidding?” I finally regained my voice. “Go where?”

  “I’m a superhero, Abigail. Duty calls.” Any other super would have sounded suave when saying that. All macho in a let-me-flex-my-biceps-in-your-face-because-I’m-a-man kind of way. But he just sounded exhausted, like he wanted to be anywhere other than standing next to me. He sounded like he made a mistake. Like I was a mistake.

  “Who are you off to save? No one in Morriston likes you, you know.” I like you, I thought. I really, really like you. But I was so pissed off at him for being pissed off at me when I didn’t even do anything that I almost didn’t care if I hurt his feelings.

  His lips lifted into a weak smile. “You like me.” Iron Phantom’s eyes no longer burned with an annoyed intensity but softened with compassion, like he forgave my sudden animosity toward him. “And I like you too. That’s why I need to do this right. Let me do this the right way, please.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  He shrugged. “Just have a little faith, Abigail.”

  Headlights flashed across the window, their glow momentarily flooding the room. I tore aside my curtains just in time to see my dad climb out of his car and stroll into the garage, cell phone pressed to his ear.

  I glanced over my shoulder to Iron Phantom. “You’re lucky he didn’t come home five minutes soon—”

  My bedroom was empty. He was gone.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Dear Abigail,

  I will be at the Coffee Cabana on 2nd Avenue today at noon. I’ll be there as me—the real me, no spandex necessary. I’d love to see you, if you are willing.

  Sincerely,

  The guy who can’t wait for you to start calling him by his real name—not Steve

  P.S. I put in an order for our matching T-shirts.

  I found his note when I rolled out of bed the next morning, scribbled in green ink and taped to my window beside another one of his chocolate bars. Stuffing the candy in my mouth, I contemplated what to do next. Obviously, I wanted to know who he was, but I was also nervous that knowing would change everything between us. Right now he was an enigma, but what—or who—would he be in a few hours? If the mystery surrounding his identity disappeared, would we have anything left?

  It would be almost too easy to call Sarah, confess everything, and ask for advice. I could trust her. She’d kept Connor’s secret so far. But part of me didn’t want a second opinion on Iron Phantom. Part of me was scared Sarah would convince me that meeting him in real life without his mask would be a bad idea. I was afraid she, like the rest of Morriston, would think he was dangerous and then run and tell my father with the intention of protecting me.

  When Connor received superpowers, my mother’s biggest fear—besides him being in constant danger—was that his personality would be different. That he wouldn’t be Connor anymore. That he would become so consumed by his new abilities he would forget what really mattered and think he was above everyone else. What she failed to notice was that, at sixteen, Connor was already on the fast track to narcissism with or without the power to fly. He may have learned to defy gravity and spot an object the size of a Ping-Pong ball across a football field, but on the inside Connor remained a lovable doofus who sucked at doing math and spent far too much time fixing his hair in front of the bathroom mirror.

  And so, by the time I finished debating whether or not I should meet my superhero, it was nearly time to leave my house. No matter what happened after I met him, I vowed not to let the discovery of his name change anything between us. Take away Connor’s powers and dorky costume and he was still the same guy. Underneath Iron Phantom’s mask, he was the same too. The Iron Phantom that took me to his thinking tree and to his lab—that was the real him. Whatever happened between us at school, for whatever reason, had been an act.

  After making up my mind, I rushed into the kitchen, formulating a grand plan that involved snatching Connor’s keys off the hook by the back door and driving his truck to the coffee shop without wrecking the darn thing. Riding the bus would take far too long. This plan would be perfect. I would write Connor a note, making sure to mention something about going to buy coffee or doughnuts—any type of food that would distract him enough so he wouldn’t freak out. He would read it and smile, scratching his belly in anticipation, and voilà! He would completely forget I ever drove his truck in the first place.

  The plan was flawless. Or it would have been … had Connor not already been waiting for me when I stepped through the kitchen door.

  “Abby.” He set his cereal bowl on the counter and wiped his mouth with a napkin. Immediately I knew something was off. Connor never used napkins. “Going somewhere?”

  “Just to get some doughnuts.” I stepped around him, snatching his truck keys. His eyes tracked me as I crossed the kitchen. He was acting like a weirdo, as usual, but I decid
ed to ignore it. Until he cut me off when I tried to exit the room.

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “I don’t know, Connor. That’s on you.” My heart started to race. My master plan was falling down the drain, but I could still escape if I hurried.

  “You’re getting doughnuts, you say?” Connor put a hand on his chin. “But who are you getting doughnuts with?”

  I answered just a bit too fast. “No one. Why?”

  Connor pursed his lips. He took a step back, prowling in front of the cabinets like some kind of jungle cat. “It’s interesting, Abby. Very … interesting.” His teeth bared in a grimace.

  “What’s interesting, Connor?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Just that you conveniently happened to be downtown two weeks ago when that woman was shot at the bank. It’s interesting that her daughter didn’t die after being injured so severely.”

  “It sounds like a miracle to me. If you’re done playing detective, I’m going to—”

  “Hold up.” His fingers clenched around my elbow. “At first, I didn’t think much of how convenient it all was. So what if you were downtown? Sure Dad would be pissed, but I didn’t tell him. So what if the little girl lived? Like you said, miracles happen. But then, last night when I was working, I flew to the children’s hospital to visit Kelsea—that’s the little girl’s name. Kelsea. And interestingly enough, she mentioned a girl who tried to help her. A girl who looked just like … you.” Connor’s fingers tightened on my arm. “She mentioned someone else too.”

  “Connor…” But I didn’t know how to finish. He knew. He knew everything. I tried to pull away from him, but he held firm. As his fingers pierced my skin, I knew this wasn’t a bluff.

  “Kelsea said there was a man in a black mask who tried to heal her, and then when she looked back he was gone. Disappeared. Hmm … I wonder who knows how to do that?” Connor cocked his head, pretending to think. “Oh, right. Iron Phantom.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  His laugh was as sharp as a knife. “I understand that I told you to stay away from him. I understand that he’s dangerous.”

  “Connor, he tried to save that girl. You just said it yourself.”

  “Abby, he’s earning your trust so he can stab you in the back!”

  Finally I managed to get out of his grip. I pushed him back, and he stumbled into the refrigerator. Annoying or not, Iron Phantom was good and kind. He’d been there for me, even when my father and brother were not, and Connor was just spewing lies.

  “You’re wrong,” I said.

  “No, I’m honest.”

  “Honest?” I finally snapped. Long overdue. “You want to talk about being honest? Okay, let’s do that. Iron Phantom is honestly trying to save this city, and you’re too busy catering to your screaming fans to pay attention. Maybe if you took a minute to listen instead of checking out like you did with Mom, then you could save people too!”

  Connor’s face went pale. My hateful words hung in the air between us, like smoke after a fire. Our entire house might as well have been in ruins.

  “What?” he asked in a whisper.

  “Where were you when she died?” The words to the question I’d been too terrified to ask for three years spilled out in a rush, stabbing the air around us, causing Connor to take small steps back with each syllable. “Why didn’t you do something? You had your powers. You could have tried—”

  “Who says I didn’t?” He raised his voice to a hysterical level, loud enough to match mine. I hadn’t seen our father all morning, but I knew he had to be at the office or else he surely would have come running.

  “You don’t know a thing, Abby.” A muscle ticked in Connor’s jaw. “Maybe I did try. Maybe I felt something that day. Maybe I clumsily flew downtown because I still wasn’t good at using my powers.” He advanced on me, backing me up until the knob on the pantry door dug into my spine. “Maybe I looked for Mom and maybe there were too many people running around the bank and maybe … maybe when I heard the gunshot … maybe I froze.” He spit out the words through clenched teeth. “Maybe I froze like a scared little child, and maybe if I hadn’t done that, she would still be alive.”

  We stood staring at each other, chest to chest. I could barely breathe.

  “Why?” I asked him. My whisper sounded like a scream in the stillness of the kitchen.

  “Why didn’t I try harder?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because no one wants to hear the story about how the hero failed to save the day.” Pushing around me, he headed for the door. “You’re blinded by your naivety, Abby. I’m going to protect this city, and if I have to take down your supervillain friend to do it, then I will.”

  After a minute, I heard the front door slam. A red streak flew past the windows moments later. When he was gone, I slumped to the floor, leaning my head against the wall. It wasn’t Connor’s fault that our mother was gone, even if he thought otherwise. Even if maybe I thought otherwise too. But we had been kids back then; things were different now. Connor needed to realize who the real enemy was. And if my words had managed to break him instead of forcing him to see sense, then this time, that heroic failure was all on me.

  * * *

  I sat on the kitchen floor replaying my fight with Connor in my head for fifteen minutes before I remembered I was supposed to be meeting Iron Phantom downtown. I rushed to the Coffee Cabana, squealing the tires as I swung Connor’s truck into the parking lot at five minutes to twelve.

  The café was filled with a dozen fake palm trees—a small one on every cherrywood table and tall ones towering near the cash register. Colorful lanterns hung from the ceiling, and reggae music played through the speakers. The shop was a pile of sand and one dolphin shy of becoming a beach. A fine substitute if a family couldn’t afford a vacation.

  I ordered an iced coffee from the barista, a tan guy with a head full of dreadlocks, then took a seat near the front window to wait. The café was empty, and I felt uncomfortable being the only one there—especially because dreadlock boy wouldn’t stop staring at me over the top of the Harry Potter novel he was reading—but at least there would be no confusion over my superhero. The next guy who walked in would be him.

  It only took me a few quick gulps to finish half my drink. My mouth felt parched, and my lips dry no matter how many times I reached in my purse to apply lip balm. I wiped my palms—hopefully wet from my iced coffee and not from sweat—on my jeans and then checked my watch.

  12:01.

  Only a few people walked past the storefront while I sipped my coffee. A woman with kids, a little boy riding a skateboard, an elderly couple holding hands, a father with a toddler throwing a temper tantrum and spilling his juice box, a young couple arguing. No superheroes, no single guys looking to meet a girl in a coffee shop.

  Maybe he was running late. Yes, that was definitely it. He was testing the nanobots or he had to save a kitten stuck in a tree or a lost little kid or something and lost track of time. He would come. He would.

  “You need a refill?” the barista asked as he wiped muffin crumbs off the table next to mine. The rag he used was stained brown with dried coffee, which I thought sort of defeated the purpose of cleaning anything.

  I anxiously chewed on my lip and looked at the cars driving down the city street. No one approached the door. “Yeah, sure. Thank you.”

  The barista paused, flinging his rag over his shoulder. A few stray drops of coffee flew through the shop. “No offense, but I dunno why people come in here and order this overpriced crap.”

  “You guys sell pastries too,” I pointed out. “They’re less expensive.”

  “I dunno why people order pastries either. They’re always stale. Which is probably why you aren’t eating one.”

  I gestured to the front door. “I’m just waiting for my friend. He’ll be here any minute.”

  The barista shook his head. His hair swung around his face, slapping his cheeks. “That’s what the
y all say, girly.” He walked behind the counter, and the hum of the coffee grinder started seconds later.

  “He is coming!” I yelled over the noise. “He’s just stuck in traffic!”

  I knew I was lying to myself. The guy could teleport. Trivial human things like traffic jams were beneath him.

  By 12:30, I’d finished my second coffee and needed to run to the bathroom to pee. Bursting back into the café with my shirt halfway untucked, I feared he would be sitting at a table thinking he missed me. But the shop was still empty.

  “No one came in for you,” the barista mumbled from a barstool behind the counter, loudly flipping a page in his book.

  By 1:00, I’d read three articles from the Sunday paper, checked my social media accounts four times, and heard the same reggae song play through the speakers twice. I encountered zero superheroes.

  When 1:30 rolled around, I’d given up hope. He wasn’t coming. Ten people had entered the café in the past half hour, but none of them spoke to me. Iron Phantom said he would be here. What happened?

  I should have known he wouldn’t show. I should have stayed at home, where it was safe. I should have run to Connor when Iron Phantom first began talking to me, and then maybe my brother wouldn’t be so furious. Should have, should have, should have. But I didn’t. Maybe Connor was right after all. A supervillain couldn’t be trusted.

  “Hey, wait!” The barista ran over to me as I opened the café door. He plucked a pink hibiscus flower from a nearby plant and offered it to me. His white apron was dirty with spilled coffee and the heat from the shop caused him to sweat, but he still managed to give me an encouraging smile. “Whoever he is, he’s an asshole for standing you up. You deserve better.”

  Holding back tears, I jumped in Connor’s truck and peeled out of the parking lot. I may have waited almost two hours for that jerk, but I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t prove he had some type of hold over me by shedding tears after a missed coffee date. Crying would show I was weak. I wasn’t weak. I was Mayor Hamilton’s daughter. My brother was a famous superhero. My mother was dead. I knew how to be strong.