He relaxed into the couch, closing his eyes. He looked … happy. Really, truly happy for possibly the first time since Mom died. He was either the world’s greatest actor, or he honestly believed the microchips would help the supers save people.
Which was worse? For me to tell him he was misled and ruin his happiness, or let him go on thinking everything was okay? Did I owe him the truth? He hadn’t been around much; he’d been too busy with work to care. But he was still family. We protected our family.
“Dad…,” I began.
“I think we should go on a vacation, Abby,” he said suddenly. “Me, you, and Connor. We deserve it, don’t you think?”
We hadn’t gone on vacation since my mom died. Dad couldn’t bear to travel without her. If he truly wanted to go somewhere without my mom, he was finally healing. And I knew as well as anyone how long that took.
I wanted to tell the truth about the E.D.D.s, but I couldn’t. Kind of like when you’re in school and want to raise your hand, but refrain from fear your answer might be incorrect. Most of the time, you were right anyway. But you still don’t raise your hand, even the next time. And the next. And the next. And the next.
I couldn’t ruin his happiness with the possibility of being wrong.
“One day, Abby, we’re going to live in a world full of peace,” he said. “And what a beautiful world that will be.”
* * *
Dad disappeared to the office, promising to be back in time for my show, and I headed into the kitchen, leaning against the counter while I rolled an apple between my palms, my thoughts raging. It was easy to believe he was innocent when I was sitting next to him, watching him smile and laugh and remember how things used to be before Mom died, but now that I was alone again, I wondered how much of what he told me was a lie. Did he know more about the microchips than he was letting on? I couldn’t tell.
I glanced at my phone. Rylan promised he would call after he finished checking on the nanobots so we could meet up. But school let out over an hour ago, and Rylan assured me he only needed to visit his lab for a few minutes. I already felt nauseous over opening night. If something happened to Rylan … No. My imagination couldn’t get the best of me. But still … a quick call wouldn’t hurt.
My throat tightened while I listened to the phone ring. I felt like a nervous little girl calling a guy for the first time. Sweaty. Out of breath. But I should have heard from him by now. Rylan was nothing if not punctual.
Hey, this is Rylan. Sorry I missed you, but leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. The beep’s coming up in about two seconds. Aaaand … go.
“Hey, Rylan, it’s me … uh, Abigail. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay because you said you’d call and come over, and it’s been over an hour and … I totally don’t want to sound needy or anything, but … yeah. Just checking on you. Call me, or I’ll call you or come over or something. Okay, bye.”
Behold: World’s Most Awkward Voicemail to Maybe-Boyfriend. Ever.
I waited about thirty minutes before totally freaking out. Rylan and I didn’t talk on the phone much, but he’d never left one of my messages unanswered before. I didn’t want to take any chances. I rushed around my house, searching for my wallet and the abundance of stage makeup I’d need for tonight, then sprinted to the nearest bus stop. I tried to convince myself everything would be okay. I’d go to Rylan’s house and confirm he was still alive, and then maybe we could relax for a few hours. Maybe.
My fist pounded relentlessly on the front door of the megamansion. Come on, come on, he has to be here. Any second, he would open the door. He would smirk and make fun of my urgency. I would laugh, and he would laugh. And then he would invite me in and offer me some cookies. Except he wasn’t opening the door.
I pounded harder.
The door flew open. My hand hovered in the air, midknock.
“Miss Abigail? One knock would have sufficed. I was in the middle of making dinner.”
I looked up, staring at Franklin’s white collared shirt and equally-as-white hair. Studying his face, I noticed he wasn’t really that old—probably not much older than my dad. Franklin gazed at me with a mixture of joy and concern, and I suddenly felt the need to explain myself.
“Rylan? Is he here? Can I—I mean, I need to see him. Now. Could I—um…”
I was such an excellent speaker. What a stroke of luck that English happened to be my first language.
“Rylan’s in the basement,” Franklin said. “He hasn’t come up since he arrived home. Can I get you something, Miss Abigail? A glass of water, perhaps?”
I shook my head and ran through the house before Franklin could stop me.
The basement steps were hidden in the corner of the kitchen. They were covered in a layer of dust, like Franklin didn’t clean them often. Or at all. I reached the bottom, and the lab unfolded before my eyes. The thuds of equipment, flashing of lasers, and Rylan—hunched over a long table in the back corner.
“Rylan?”
He wheeled around. When I got closer, I noticed sweat soaking the back of his T-shirt. “Abby?” His voice sounded thick, pained.
“What happened? Are you okay? I tried to call, but you didn’t answer.”
“You did?” He pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. “Oh, you did. Sorry. Did Franklin let you in?”
I nodded, and Rylan said, “You didn’t tell him why you’re here, did you?”
“No.” I didn’t even know why I was here.
“Good.” He looked up the stairs to make sure we were alone. “I have to tell you something.”
I could always count on Rylan not to sugarcoat things for me.
“One of my tests came back positive today,” he said, forcefully rubbing the back of his skull. “God, I’m such an idiot! I should have checked this last week, but I didn’t think it would be possible. I only ran it as a last resort, but I should’ve done it sooner. I’m such a—”
“Rylan!” I pulled his hands to his sides, forcing him to look at me instead of the ceiling. We wouldn’t get anywhere if he kept babbling. “Tell me what happened. What did you find?”
Rylan gulped and glared at the microchip open on the table. “The nanobots were never meant to detect premeditation or malice or any other kind of emotion. They were meant to change emotions.”
“Wait, what?”
“You heard me. They target the part of the brain that processes emotional reactions—the amygdala. The nanobots change a person’s emotions depending on how they were specifically programmed by the scientists who engineered them.”
“English, please?”
Rylan groaned, though I suspected it had little to do with my lack of scientific knowledge, and more to do with his anger at himself. “For example, if the nanobots were programmed to make you feel happy, then you become happy all the time. You could break your leg and still be happy about it. Sad, angry, scared, whatever—that’s the only emotion you get. They completely control your brain. You don’t get a choice in what you feel.”
I didn’t want to ask, but I had to. “What were these nanobots programmed for?”
Rylan slumped in the nearest chair and put his head in his hands. “Submission. If the nanobots work, which I’m positive they do, everyone who received an injection will obey anything they’re told. If someone told Sarah to jump off the Morriston Bridge, she’d do it. If Franklin was commanded to drown himself, he wouldn’t think twice. Anything to keep the peace.”
The nanobots sounded anything but peaceful.
My stomach curled into knots. This couldn’t be happening. I had too many nightmares while sleeping; I didn’t think it was possible they could exist while I was awake. Not anymore. Not since Mom died.
Rylan reached for my arm. “Abigail … I don’t want to say this, but your dad … I think he’s responsible—”
I swallowed hard. I knew he was right, but I found myself shaking my head anyway.
“Abigail, listen. His whole thing
is about bringing peace to the city. If he tells the citizens not to kill or steal or fight, they’ll listen. Once the nanobots start working, their brains will be wired that way. They won’t argue. And, ta-da, Morriston suddenly becomes the most peaceful city in America.”
I was crying now. Big fat tears that kept coming and coming down my cheeks without end. Connor and I had been ordered to receive the injections just like everyone else. Did our dad mean to brainwash us too?
Rylan handed me a tissue, and I wiped my eyes and nose, my makeup coming off in big dark splotches. “So the chips are basically turning everyone in the city into robots?”
“Pretty much,” he said.
“Is there a way to stop it?”
Rylan picked up the chip sitting on the table and slid it under a microscope. “They have to activate the nanobots from a computer, likely multiple computers considering how many people are involved. They need to be located somewhere in the city so the signal is strong enough to reach all the microchips. If we find the server before the nanobots are activated, I could destroy the data.”
“And if we find the server after?”
Rylan sighed. “I don’t know. I never expected it to be this bad. I don’t know if this is something we could reverse.”
There was a time, right after my mom died, when I was excellent at choking back tears. I’d hold my breath and pinch my arm until it bruised, and I wouldn’t cry. I got so good that there were days when Dad or Connor asked if I was even upset at all. Of course I was. But I was selfish. I hid the pain inside, I kept it to myself. It hurt less that way. I convinced myself that if I didn’t cry, her death wouldn’t be real.
Eventually, I did cry. And it was real.
But now, I was severely out of practice at holding in my emotions. I sobbed and couldn’t breathe, and suddenly found my cheek pressed against Rylan’s damp T-shirt while I hiccupped my tears away.
“I need to call my dad,” I said at last. “I need to find out where he is. If we find him, we might find the server.”
I dialed my dad’s number with shaking fingers. The phone rang and rang and rang. And finally …
You have reached Mayor Benjamin Hamilton. Please leave your name, phone num—
I hung up and dialed again. And again. And again. I didn’t bother leaving a message. If my dad cared at all, he would see my multitude of missed calls and wonder what was the matter.
“Do we have a plan B?” Rylan asked.
I dialed the number of the office building Dad moved to after Rylan set the fire in city hall, but the line was disconnected. It was possible he’d switched offices again without telling anyone, probably out of paranoia that someone would find out what he was up to and try to track him down. But if he moved to another building, I didn’t know where it was. It wasn’t like my dad ever told me much of anything. But there was one person … one person who knew plenty more about my dad’s career than I. And I knew exactly where to find him.
“Rylan, every good superhero knows there’s always a plan B.”
* * *
“Plan B is the Bookworm?”
The Bookworm was a large independent bookstore down the road from the Morriston Mall … or where the Morriston Mall used to be before someone blew it up. Nevertheless, the Bookworm lived on, and today it just so happened to be packed with screaming, swooning fangirls.
“Abigail, I like books as much as the next person, but why are we here?”
I pointed to the long line stretching out the door and down the sidewalk. Teen girls and their moms chattered and squealed in small groups. They came armed with life-sized posters, handmade T-shirts, and Sharpies in every color. Rolling my eyes had never turned into such a workout.
Rylan eyed two girls standing just outside the shop. They both wore matching red bodysuits with a familiar gold swoosh on their chests. “Your brother’s here?” he asked.
I hit him with my right elbow while using my left to dig our way through the crowd to get inside. “Don’t mention him! Do you want them to attack you? They’ll take you prisoner if they think you know him.”
“They won’t.”
“Oh yeah?” I cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t be so sure. Super fangirls are completely different than casual fangirls.” I pointed out two sleeping bags on the ground and a sign reading, We waited 52 hours for Red Comet!
“These fans will eat you,” I said.
The inside of the Bookworm was more crowded than the outside. The gossiping, crying, obnoxious line wound between bookshelves all the way to the back of the store where Connor sat behind a long table. Two burly security guards stood on either side. I wasn’t really sure they could protect Connor in any way his superpowers could not. But they did look intimidating, which I guess cut down on the number of girls willing to leap across the table and offer up their virginity.
“Huh. I’ve never been to a meet and greet before. Do you think I could get one of these?” Rylan’s eyes grew wide as he took it all in. The posters and the cleavage, the chanting and the short skirts. And the cleavage. Did I mention the cleavage? I flicked the side of his head, snapping him out of it.
“Rylan, keep staring and you won’t get much of anything from anybody. Get your head in the game.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he grumbled.
Girls whined and threw tantrums as we brushed past to the front of the line. One mother tried pulling Rylan’s hair to hold us up. And all over Connor, my dorky brother who could burp the alphabet—one of the least classy celebrities in the country.
“Still want a meet and greet?” I asked Rylan.
He rubbed his head where the woman’s long nails scratched him. He pouted. “No.”
Rylan suggested we approach the shortest security guard. Unfortunately, the shortest guard was also the widest, and looked like he could run me over like a tank. He stopped us twenty feet away from Connor, holding his arms out so we couldn’t slip by. My brother was too busy signing posters for fans to notice.
“Hello,” I greeted the guard. Kill ’em with kindness. “We need to speak with Red Comet. It’s really important.”
The guard snorted. When he tilted his head, I noticed a tattoo of a dragon curling around his left ear. “Yeah, girl, you and everyone else here. Get in line. He’ll see you if he has enough time.”
Rylan sized the guard up. Rylan had at least several inches on him, but the security guard weighed twice as much. Then again, Rylan had a bit more going for him than the average human. “How much longer is he here for?”
“’Til six. Get in line before I throw you two out. He’ll see you when he sees you.”
“We don’t exactly have time to wait,” Rylan continued.
“Then get out. No one sees Red Comet without a wristband.” The guard pointed to a red band on a nearby girl’s arm. “And you only get one by waiting in line, so if you don’t have the time, leave before I escort you out myself.”
Rylan snorted, and I noticed his chest puff out a fraction. He wanted to go all alpha-male-superhero on this guy’s ass, I could tell. Surely he would win, but he’d definitely expose himself in the process.
Pulling Rylan’s arm, I said to the guard, “We need to talk to Red Comet. Right now.” I noticed a microchip glowing blue under his skin. “It’s life or death, and I know for a fact he’ll be furious with you if you don’t let me see him. All the other fans can wait. Just go ask him,” I added when the guard opened his mouth to argue. “If he says no, he says no, right? No big deal, and then we’ll leave.”
The guard slunk away to Connor’s table. He whispered something in my brother’s ear, and Connor turned toward us. I couldn’t see his eyes behind his mask, but I knew he wouldn’t leave us hanging. Every girl in line followed his gaze. If looks could kill. These fangirls were ruthless.
Connor nodded, and the guard returned. He pointed to me. “He said he’ll only see you. Your friend needs to stay here.”
“Shocker,” Rylan grumbled.
I shrugged apologetically. Conno
r stood from his meet-and-greet table, gave the teen girl standing before him a quick hug, and led me through a door into a storage room. Books overflowed from boxes onto the floor, and a pack of mechanical pencils was scattered along a tiny table next to a half-empty coffee cup.
As soon as the door closed, Connor pulled off his mask and went in for a hug. Damp pieces of hair clung to his sweaty forehead, but he grinned so wide his mouth almost looked too big for his face.
“Hey there, Abby! I didn’t know you were stopping to visit, but I’m glad you did. I was suffocating out there! Weird place for a meet and greet, isn’t it? I wanted to do it in a strip club, but I’m trying to appease my younger audience. And sorry about Mike, he thought you were some groupie trying to get to me. I told him off for it, he won’t do it again. Don’t know why I even need security anyway, you know? I can always just fly—”
“Connor!” I yelled. He threw a hand over my mouth to silence me in case someone was listening, but got distracted seconds later and began clicking the lead out of the pencils on the table. “Connor, can you focus, please?”
He dropped the pink pencil in his hand. “My bad. What’s up?”
I chose to blame my pounding headache on the horde of hormonal girls outside. Rubbing my temples, I said, “Do you know where I can find Dad?”
Connor shrugged. “I don’t know, work maybe?”
“Did he move offices again?”
“Umm … yeah. I wrote it down, but the paper’s somewhere at home. Why?”
“Because…” I took a deep breath. “I think he did something really, really bad, and I need to fix it.”
“What are you talking about?”
If Rylan was here, he wouldn’t have wanted to tell Connor. And even if he did, Rylan certainly wouldn’t have cried. I did both. And after, while I wiped my nose on the shoulder of Connor’s super suit, I felt a little better. Until …
The Supervillain and Me Page 23
