Sidekicks

by Jack D. Ferraiolo

  “Yeah, OK. I see. I get it. You don’t have to worry about such things as excuses and identities anymore. You’ve found love, right? And now the whole world knows about it.”

  Uh-oh.

  “And love conquers all, right? Is that what we’re talking about here?”

  “You saw the video,” I say. My heart speeds up, and I feel a little nauseous.

  “Get in the car.”

  I do as I’m told.

  Louis gets behind the wheel without saying another word. He peels out.

  home … that I’m going to get the Louis Sullivan Silent Treatment, patent pending. Instead, he starts right in. “What were you thinking, Scott? Huh? What the heck was going through your head?”

  “I don’t know … I guess I wasn’t—”

  “Thinking? At all? Yeah, I’d second that.”

  “You told me that I shouldn’t be afraid to ‘blow up’ my life. That it might even make me happier,” I say.

  “I meant a little part of it! Like maybe ‘blowing up’ the part of you that’s afraid to talk to other kids! I didn’t mean that you should destroy your whole life!”

  “Come on … Don’t you think you’re being melodramatic?”

  “Melodramatic? Well, let’s see … maybe I got the events all wrong. At least ten people filmed you on the roof of a truck, in an unsanctioned, unapproved, Bright Boy costume, making out with your archenemy. And now those movies are being passed around online. That about cover it?”

  “Yeah, I’d say that’s it.”

  “You didn’t snort any heroin on the way home? Maybe rob an orphan at knifepoint?”

  “Come on, Louis.”

  “No, Scott. Stop,” he barks. “As angry as I am, I assure you it is nothing—NOTHING—compared to how angry Trent is right now. Do you hear me?”

  “Yeah, I hear you.”

  “Good. Then shut up and listen. You don’t say a word to him, you understand? Not. One. Word. Dr. Chaotic is loose and pulling some sort of crime. Make him focus on that.” There’s an odd tone to Louis’s voice. It almost sounds like fear. “Do whatever he asks you to.”

  “No.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m not going to put that stupid costume back on.”

  “Scott—”

  “No, Louis. It’s not going to happen. I owe him a lot. I know that. But I have to take a stand on this. That costume is embarrassing.”

  “Would you stop with the costume for one second?!” he yells. Louis never yells. “There is more at stake here than your stupid costume!”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  Louis takes a deep breath, but then doesn’t say anything.

  “Louis?”

  “Nothing,” he says, trying to sound angry again, but not quite pulling it off. “We’re home.”

  We sit in the car for a moment. I look at him in the rearview mirror, but he doesn’t look back.

  I put my hand on the door handle.

  “Sorry for snapping at you, kid,” he says.

  “It’s OK. I screwed up. I guess I expected some sort of scolding. I just didn’t think it would come from you.”

  There’s a long pause. Finally, Louis says, “Good luck.”

  I open the door and get out. He pulls the car around the circular driveway and disappears toward the garage.

  I walk inside and head up to my room to change. I look around. Nothing is out of place, but something seems wrong, as if someone went to a lot of trouble to make it feel like no one was in here. Or maybe I’m just being paranoid. I’m too wound up to know the difference right now.

  I pull my new costume out of the duffel bag I carry to school and get dressed as quickly as possible. I’m about to check it out in the mirror when I stop. What if it was Allison’s plan all along to befriend me, make me “stand up for myself,” cause strife between me and Phantom, then use that strife to divide and defeat us?

  Of course! I feel like an idiot for not seeing it before. It’s probably better to take the stupid thing off right now, go down to the Fortress, and talk this out with Trent. Who knows? Maybe we can come up with a new costume together.

  I take off the mask and throw it on the bed. I’m starting to take off the shirt when I look up and see myself in the full-length mirror … I look better than I ever imagined I could look. Allison may be setting me up, but she hasn’t put me in a stupid-looking costume to do it. At least I know the fight I’m about to have with Trent will be worth it, just on fashion sense alone. I put my shirt back on and head downstairs.

  My hand is shaking as I hit the hidden button that moves the bookcase concealing the main entrance to the Fortress. I’m a little queasy as I go through the security measures, even screwing up once and having to reset before the stun lasers knock me unconscious. By the time I get to the retina scan, I’m pretty nerved up. The scan registers on the third try, and I enter the Fortress.

  Trent is sitting with his back toward me, in front of the computer bay. He doesn’t turn around. He knows I’m here. There are cameras in the security corridor leading down here, and the images from them are on the monitors.

  I clear my throat a couple of times, but Trent still doesn’t turn around. The awkwardness is making me even more antsy. I keep rubbing my sweaty palms on the front of my pants, but the material isn’t absorbent.

  Finally, I find my voice. “Uhh … so … is Dr. Chaotic up to something?” I ask.

  “He’s at IGO Computer headquarters,” Phantom says in his annoying whisper-growl. “Your uniform is in the car. You can change on the way.”

  “I’m already dressed,” I say. My heart is thudding in my chest. I’d rather be yelling at a gun-wielding maniac than talking to Phantom Justice about my new outfit.

  “I see. Would it happen to be the same outfit you were wearing when you were making out with your archenemy?” he asks. He still won’t turn around.

  “We weren’t making out,” I mumble. “It was just a kiss.” Even I know that defense sounds lame.

  “Well … that’s much better,” he says sarcastically. “I can see why you’d want to clarify that. Come on then … let’s get a look at this amazing new outfit.” He swivels his chair around. “OK … there’s no way in hell you’re going out dressed like that.”

  “Uhh … yes, I am.”

  “Uhh … no, you’re not. You look ridiculous … like a rank amateur, a weekend warrior out for thrills.”

  “No, I don’t,” I say, but my self-confidence is eroding. I start to sweat.

  “And whose stupid idea was it to put you in dark blue when your name is Bright Boy? Hm?”

  “Did you just call me stupid?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. Did I? Did you actually choose a dark blue outfit when your name is Bright Boy?”

  “You’re right. Putting me in bright yellow tights is a much smarter costume choice.”

  He’s up and in my face in half a second. Even as fast as I am, that was fast. “You didn’t just say what I think you said, did you?”

  “Trent—”

  “You didn’t just imply that I’m the stupid one in this scenario, did you?”

  “Trent, I—”

  “Maybe you have a problem wearing tights because you’re a pervert. Hm? Did you ever think of that?”

  I blush. It’s something that I’ve been wrestling with since it happened, and Trent just slapped me in the face with it. “I couldn’t help it,” I mumble as I turn away from him.

  “Just like you couldn’t help making out with your enemy? Huh? You’re supposed to be my sidekick? How am I supposed to trust you when you can’t even control yourself?”

  My jaw tightens. Even though I may be wrong, and I could have handled things a little better, Trent is being a jerk … and it’s starting to tick me off.

  “I swear to God, Scott. Sometimes, you can be so stupid! Did you ever think that she was setting you up? Huh? That somehow, she bugged that outfit, and now she knows who you are?”

  “She al
ready knows who I am.”

  “And who’s fault is that?!” he yells. “You’re acting like an idiot! And an amateur!” He gets in my face again. His jaw is clenched in fury. “I will not let you ruin this for me, do you understand? I have spent too much time, worked too hard to build this, and you are not going to screw it up. Do you understand?! Now get in the car and put on your tights!”

  I stare at him. I’d seen him go off on villains before, but I always got the sense that his anger—his violence—was controlled. It didn’t feel controlled right now. But it didn’t matter. I’d come this far, and there was no way I was going to turn back.

  “No,” I say. I try to speak calmly, but my voice keeps shaking. “I can’t put those on again. They’re embarrassing.”

  Trent’s clenched fists start shaking. My instincts start going into overdrive. I feel my body preparing to go into defense mode. “Scott, I’m only going to say this one more time. Get in the car—”

  “No.”

  “And put on—”

  “NO.”

  “SCOTT! GET IN THE CAR RIGHT NOW AND PUT YOUR DAMN TIGHTS ON!” Trent raises his hand as if he’s going to slap me. I snap into a fighting stance and raise my fist on instinct. Do I avoid his slap? Block it? Hit him back?

  “Hey!” Louis shouts as he walks into the room. “Dr. Chaotic’s on the news!”

  Trent’s hand is suspended in midair. He looks at Louis. Louis holds his gaze.

  “Dr. Chaotic and Monkeywrench are at the IGO Computer headquarters,” Louis informs us. “It’s all over the news. Looks like they’re waiting for you.”

  Louis and Trent continue to stare at each other. Trent’s hand is still up as if he’s going to slap me at any moment, even though I’ve long since moved out of its range. It seems more symbolic, now. If Trent’s embarrassed for getting caught, he’s not showing it.

  After what seems like forever, Trent drops his eyes from Louis’s glare. “You know what?” Trent growls. “Wear your stupid outfit. I don’t care. Just get in the car.” He turns away from me, his cape making a dramatic sweep as he does. He stomps off toward the Stealth Phantom, gets in, and slams the door shut. He revs the engine impatiently. The sound is deafening. For a second, I think he’s going to peel out and leave me standing here, but he doesn’t. He revs the engine a couple of more times, then sits there idling, staring through the windshield at the far wall so he doesn’t have to look at me.

  I walk on shaky legs over to the car, open the door, and get in. Before I can get the door closed, Trent hits the gas and backs out at eighty mph. I just manage to get the door shut before it gets snapped off in the tunnel. I catch one last look at Louis as we leave. He looks worried, and I’m not sure it has anything to do with Dr. Chaotic.

  lasts all of eight minutes. There has never been a longer eight minutes in the history of time. Phantom won’t look at me, or acknowledge my presence in any way.

  We pull up to the building, and Phantom is out of the car before it even comes to a full stop. By the time I get up to the roof, he’s already started his “confrontation dialogue” with Dr. Chaotic, but it sounds stiff and unnatural.

  “I don’t know what evil you’re up to now, Chaotic,” Phantom says in a monotone, “but it ends tonight.”

  “Please. Like you and your brat are going to stop us,” Chaotic says, also in a monotone. Dr. Chaotic isn’t even looking at Phantom; he’s staring at me, and it’s making me uncomfortable. He hardly acknowledged my existence before. And now he’s not taking his eyes off me.

  “Hey!” Phantom yells.

  Chaotic looks at me for a couple of seconds more, then finally over at Phantom.

  “That’s better,” Phantom says.

  I look at Allison/Monkeywrench. She mouths the word sorry.

  My eyes go wide. I mouth, You told him? That’s why he was staring at me.

  She makes some faces that indicate no, she did not tell him, you idiot (meaning me), that the video was, in fact, ALL OVER THE INTERNET, and he happened to stumble across it.

  Oh. I nod my head in the direction of Phantom Justice, admitting that he kind of did the same thing. She sticks her tongue out at me. I start laughing.

  I stop laughing when I notice that Phantom Justice and Dr. Chaotic are no longer talking to each other and are now staring at us.

  It’s a little awkward.

  “Uhh … OK …” Allison says. “So, the deal is that we have this prototype of a super computer thingee!” She tries to ramp it up again so that we can get back on script, so to speak.

  “You don’t even know what you’re stealing?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I do!” she says, annoyed. “It’s that thingee.” She points to a box in Dr. Chaotic’s hand. He does not look happy.

  “Well!” I shout, trying to pick up on Allison’s cue. “We are here to stop you! Ha-HA!”

  Allison looks at me as like “What are you doing?”

  “What?”

  She laughs and rolls her eyes, then springs forward and tackles me. “Hey!” I shout. Phantom and Chaotic look like they’re about to break us up when a news helicopter comes out of nowhere. They hesitate, but then they start to fight.

  I can’t watch them, though, because Allison is coming at me with a barrage of kicks and punches. “Hey!” I shout again. “What are you doing?”

  “Returning the favor!” she says. “See? Getting attacked when you don’t expect it really sucks, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s not so bad,” I say, and start countering her moves. Soon, we’re right where we left off last night.

  She takes a step back and gets into a boxer’s pose, then starts doing a little fancy footwork, à la Muhammad Ali. She comes at me with a left jab, left jab—pause—right roundhouse, quick left jab. The last left jab catches me in the mouth, but the impact gives me an extra half second where her hand is still out there. I grab her fist before she can pull it back. I use a little aikido to turn her arm at a painful angle. She bends over, going where I direct her arm, but then she kicks out with her left leg, catching me in the stomach, hard enough to make me break my grip.

  We reset, both of us breathing heavy, but only just warmed up.

  “How bad was it with Phantom?” she asks.

  “Bad,” I say, then do a couple of roundhouse kicks. She ducks under and comes into my space. When she pops up, we’re chest to chest. My heart kicks into high gear. We stop. Then she pushes me back, laughing.

  “He doesn’t like the new you?” she asks.

  “I’m not different. The outfit is.”

  “You’re wearing the outfit when he doesn’t want you to. You’re different, all right.”

  “How was your dad?” I ask after a quick scissor kick.

  Feint with the left, right elbow/block, left elbow/block, right elbow, right elbow, left hook—block, block, block.

  “He hasn’t talked to me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Left jab, left jab, right jab, right hook.

  “I’m not! Are you kidding?! I love when he leaves me alone.” Roundhouse kick. “I never understood the whole silent treatment punishment. ‘You’re not talking to me’ … ooooo … big deal.”

  I throw a left jab that catches her in the nose. I stop for a second. “Are you OK?” I ask.

  “Please? That little tap?”

  “No … the reason that tap connected.” Her head turns away from me. My first reaction is to go to her, but my second reaction proves to be the correct one. I take a step back, and just miss getting clocked in the head with a back kick.

  “My dad never stopped talking to me,” she says as she squats and spins into a low roundhouse kick. I jump over it. “Even when he went away, we still talked.”

  “You mean when he went to prison?”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “No, when he went to Aruba. Yes, when he went to prison.” She’s annoyed, so her jabs get a little sloppy. I bat the first couple away, then grab the last two, pull her arms across her body, and wrap her up.

  “We
ll,” she says, “somehow, I think this was your plan all along.” I blush, but I don’t let go. She pulls her arms in an attempt to escape, but the pulls are halfhearted … not even … more like quarter-hearted … more for show than an actual attempt to escape. After a couple of those, she stops even that. She takes a deep breath and leans her head forward onto my shoulder, and I’m afraid to move, because I don’t want this moment to end. I don’t want to be a superhero anymore. I don’t want her to be my enemy. I just want to stand there … or wherever … and have Allison rest her head on my shoulder. That’s it.

  “Do you hear that?” she asks, looking up at me.

  “Sorry,” I say. “It’s beating a little fast. I can’t help it.”

  “Not that,” she says, smiling. And is she blushing a little? “It sounds like … cheering?”

  We turn our heads. Without our even realizing it, the fight took us to the edge of the building, and standing on the building directly across from us, a crowd of people has formed … and they’re watching us … and cheering. One of them is holding a sign that says “Kiss!”

  “How did they find us?” I ask.

  “Look up, dummy.”

  I do. There’s the news helicopter, circling overhead. “They must be doing a live feed,” she says.

  “Of us? But even Phantom never gets a live feed anymore.” I start laughing. It doesn’t seem real.

  Allison starts laughing, too. “Well, we probably shouldn’t waste it then. Come on. I’m sick of moping. Let’s give ’em a show.”

  “As you wish, milady.” I push her away and twirl her. There’s a disappointed groan from the audience, which turns into a gasp of disbelief as Allison does an amazing set of flips, then turns to face me. She does a little of the Ali footwork, gets into her fighting stance, then gives me a little “come hither” wave … I laugh and get into my fighter stance, and now the crowd roars its approval and starts cheering. She starts running toward me, so I start running toward her. She leaps. I leap. We clash in midair, ten feet above the ground, throwing and countering a few punches before our momentum carries us away from each other. I roll on the ground and pop back up, just in time to see her do an awesome foot slide into a one-handed handstand, twist her body, then come back down on her feet … back into her original fighting stance.