The Betrayal of Renegade X (Renegade X, Book 3)

by Chelsea M. Campbell

  He swallows, his voice wavering a little. “That’s not true.”

  “A DVD, then. Probably a documentary.”

  “It’s a boxed set. About the history of Golden City.”

  “Yeah, that sounds about right. You should know it was really hard finding something lamer than that.”

  He scowls at me. “We watched part of it on TV and then had to miss the rest. Sarah was really disappointed. She likes it.”

  “Sure. Whatever. It’s still lame.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Besides being boring?”

  “It’s not boring. It’s really interesting. And it won awards.”

  “Okay, so for your first Christmas with your girlfriend who you’re really into, you’re getting her a documentary. Do you hear how boring that sounds?” And I’m guessing he’s not getting it for her so they can pretend to watch it while actually making out.

  “It’s not... It doesn’t... Sarah’s going to like it.”

  “Like it, but not love it.” I lean forward and set my controller on the coffee table.

  Riley opens his mouth to argue, but then holds back, thinking that over. “What did you get her?”

  “A pair of socks.”

  “Seriously? You think the documentary that she wants to see is only a step up above socks?”

  They’re nice socks, pink with gray robots on them, but still. “You could have rented the stupid documentary and surprised her with it for, I don’t know, one of your movie nights. How often do you rewatch crap like that anyway?”

  He considers that for a second, then shakes his head. “She’s going to like it. And don’t think you can just change the subject. I know you feel guilty for what you did the other night, but letting me win at Aliens vs. Dinosaurs for two hours isn’t going to make it up to me.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, because I don’t feel guilty.”

  He rolls his eyes at me. “Yes, you do. Just admit it.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Okay,” he says, not sounding like he believes me, “but you never lose that many times in a row, and I know you weren’t just letting me win. Something’s up.”

  “I didn’t get enough sleep last night. It’s an off day. I’ll be back to kicking your ass tomorrow.” I did have trouble sleeping last night, mostly because Amelia was blasting the radio and singing along really badly to pop music until one a.m., so it’s not completely a lie.

  Riley tilts his head, not buying it. “If you don’t tell me what’s really going on, I’m just going to have to assume it’s guilt.”

  “For the last time, Perkins, it’s not guilt.”

  “But it is something, then.”

  I glare at him. “It’s nothing, okay?! So just leave it.”

  It comes out sounding meaner than I meant it to, and he blinks a couple times, looking kind of hurt. “Yeah. Sure. I just thought...”

  We’re silent for a minute, each of us on opposite ends of the couch. I drum my fingers against the arm rest and Riley pretends to read the back of the Aliens vs. Dinosaurs IV box.

  I sigh. “You can’t tell Zach. Or Sarah.”

  He glances over at me, then back at the box. He nods.

  “I mean it.”

  “I know.”

  “I think...” I swallow, not really wanting to say it out loud. “I think Gordon’s tired of dealing with me.” I try to keep the fear from my voice, but I know it’s there, and I know Riley hears it.

  “Oh,” he says.

  “Oh? It’s a big deal.” I lean my head back against the couch. “I found a brochure. In his stuff. He was really upset the other night. About me zapping that guy. And now he has a brochure for this place for troubled teens. With superpowers. It’s, like, practically advertising that they’ll take your kids you can’t handle and brainwash them into not using their powers to do anything bad.”

  Riley sucks in a slow breath through his teeth. “That can’t really be what it’s for.”

  “You didn’t see it.”

  “I know, but your dad wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “It’s aimed at parents who don’t know how to control their delinquent teens with dangerous powers.” I put a hand to my chest. “I’m a delinquent teen with a dangerous power. He wants to control me and he can’t. And you should have seen him Monday night. He was freaked.”

  Riley bites his lip. “You probably just scared him, that’s all. He’s not going to send you away.”

  “No, but not everyone lives there. They have therapy programs. I looked through the brochure.” Meaning I read every horrifying word before stuffing it back in that stupid magazine. I thought about stealing it, in the hopes that Gordon might just forget about it, but I was afraid he’d notice it was gone and come looking for it, and that seemed worse. Because then I’d know that he hadn’t forgotten about it, that he was really considering this, and then he’d know that I’d found it, and that I knew what he was planning. And thinking about that made my chest get tight, like I couldn’t breathe, and so I slammed the drawer shut and got out of there.

  “Therapy’s not so bad,” Riley says, clearing his throat. “I had to go, after my dad died. Me and Zach. I didn’t want to, but it turned out okay.”

  “That’s different. Your mom wasn’t scared of you. She wasn’t worried that you were some psychopath who just goes around hurting people because you feel like it. As if she didn’t know you at all.”

  “There’s no way your dad thinks that about you. Someone else could have given him that brochure. Maybe the counselor at school or something. It might not mean anything.”

  “He doesn’t think he can deal with me. He’s giving up on me.” The words leave a stinging feeling in my chest. Maybe Riley’s right and it’s just a misunderstanding, but he didn’t see the horrified way Gordon looked at me when he came to pick me up.

  “You thought that guy was a kidnapper,” Riley says.

  “You told me not to do it.”

  “Yeah.” He lets out a deep breath. “What you did was against the rules. But you didn’t do it because you’re crazy or because you go around hurting people. I know that. You dad knows that, too. He has to.”

  “He’s going to send me to therapy so they can ‘fix’ me.” Because he thinks I’m broken. “He—” My phone rings. It’s Gordon. Of course it is. I almost don’t answer it, but then I do anyway. “Hey. Dad.”

  “Damien.” He hesitates, and my heart races as I imagine him saying that Amelia told him we found that brochure and that there’s no point wasting time, now that I know about it, since I could be good and brainwashed before next semester even starts. Merry Christmas. “Dinner’s at six. We’re having meatloaf.” He says that like nothing happened. Like he doesn’t think I’m deranged or like he’s considering getting me professional help.

  “I hate meatloaf.” Plus, Helen only makes that when—

  “Your aunt and— Er, I mean, Helen’s sister and her family are coming over.”

  I groan. Of all the people I want to zap, they rank pretty high on the list.

  “So.” Gordon pauses. “I need you to be on your best behavior. Leah already thinks you put syrup in Belinda’s hair last time.”

  “She pushed Jess! She made her cry.”

  He sighs, sounding worn out. “They’re just kids.”

  “Yeah, but one of them’s my sister.” And the other one is a conniving five-year-old bitch who obviously gets away with murder. Or pushing three-year-olds. Whatever.

  “Let me handle it this time. If anything happens,” he adds, as if there’s any chance that it won’t. “Be home by five thirty.”

  “I can’t.” The words just come out, before I have time to think about them. There’s no way I’m sitting through dinner with Leah and her awful family. While Gordon acts like he hasn’t betrayed me, and Leah brings up seeing me in the news again, with that I-told-you-so expression on her face, and talks about me like I’m not in the room, and no one stops her and says, He
might be a problem, but he’s our problem, and at least he doesn’t torment three-year-olds like your stupid kids do. “I’m staying at Riley’s. I’m staying the night, I mean.”

  Riley glances over at me, raising his eyebrows, but he doesn’t say anything.

  Gordon’s voice gets this gruff I’m-your-father tone to it. “Damien. It’s a school night.”

  “Yeah, and Riley goes to school, too. Plus we don’t have any classes until afternoon tomorrow. And he’s helping me study for my Morality final. I really need the help, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know,” he says, meaning me staying out tonight, not needing help with my morality, since we both know what he thinks about that.

  “I can guarantee that I won’t put syrup in anyone’s hair.”

  He laughs, like he has any right to have a normal conversation with me. “You’ll definitely be missed.”

  I’m pretty sure I won’t, but I guess that’s his way of saying I don’t have to come home tonight.

  He tells me to call him in the morning and says good-bye. I hang up and relax a little, sinking back into the couch.

  “I don’t have to stay here,” I tell Riley. “I just said that so I wouldn’t have to go home.” I can always stay with Kat, at her dorm at Vilmore. It’s forty-five minutes away and I’d have to take the train, but I could still get back before my afternoon final tomorrow.

  “Yeah, I know,” he says, picking up the second controller off the coffee table and tossing it to me. “But don’t be stupid, X. Of course you can stay.”

  “You didn’t have plans? I was pretty sure you’d be scrambling to find Sarah a better Christmas present.”

  “I told you. She’ll like it.” He shakes his head and presses the button on his controller to turn the console back on. “And no, I didn’t have plans. Now shut up and play for reals—we can still get a few more rounds in before Zach comes home and kicks both our asses.”

  “And then Miles and I walked into the back room with our rayguns out, ready for anything, and...” The superhero guy, who apparently used to be best pals with Zach and Riley’s dad, pauses in mid-sentence, trying to draw out the suspense.

  We’re sitting at the dining table, eating dinner, which is, thankfully, pork chops and not meatloaf. Zach, Riley, and their mom are hanging on this guy’s every word, smiling and holding back laughter as he finishes up his story about the good ol’ days, when he was partnered up with Zach and Riley’s dad in the League and they used to go around hunting down villains. My favorite subject.

  The guy—whose name is Curtis—grins real big and says, “Nah, you guys don’t want to hear how it ends. How about I just stop there?”

  “No way!” Zach says, his fork clattering to his plate. “You have to finish it.”

  Riley rolls his eyes at his brother. “Of course he’s going to finish it.”

  Curtis spreads out his hands and leans forward. “So there we were, figuring we had the Thief King cornered in the back room of this diner. With who knows how many of his guys waiting for us. We knew it was dangerous, and we were both scared out of our wits, but neither of us would admit it. So we get our rayguns out and kick the door in, all ready for trouble, and there’s the Thief King. Alone. Stuffing his face with an ice cream sundae, with chocolate sauce and peanuts all over it!” He slaps his hand down on the table and starts cracking up at his own stupid story.

  The rest of them laugh, too. Riley even looks over at me, to see if I think it’s as funny as they do, which I do not. And not just because I don’t think it’s crazy and hilarious that villains occasionally get caught eating desserts like regular people, but because it couldn’t have happened.

  Their mom leans her head back and sighs. “I forgot how much trouble you two used to get into.”

  Curtis notices I’m the only one not convulsing with side-splitting laughter and says, “That was a little hero humor, there. I guess it’s not for everyone.”

  It’s too bad Gordon’s not here to see me not zap this guy. Even if I really, really want to. “It’s an okay story, I guess. But it would be funnier if it was true.” Which it’s not. It can’t be.

  The laughter at the table dies down.

  Riley shoots me a withering look, like he doesn’t know why I always have to cause trouble.

  “I assure you,” Curtis says, trying to sound good-natured about it, “every word is the honest truth.”

  “The Thief King was deathly allergic to peanuts. Everyone knows that.”

  He kind of gapes at me for a second. “You sure?”

  “Uh, yeah. It’s common knowledge.” At least it is for villains. I assumed it was for everyone, but maybe not.

  He holds his hands out, palm up. “I mixed it up, then. It was a long time ago. Maybe it was sprinkles instead.” He laughs at that, like that makes the story even funnier. Like he’s going to tell it like that from now on.

  So much for the honest truth.

  Now that I ruined the mood, their mom gets up to start clearing the plates. Curtis puts a hand on her lower back, which suddenly seems really intimate and over the line, except she doesn’t even flinch. Like it’s normal for him to put his hands on her. Ugh. “Let me do that, Win,” he says.

  Zach cringes and Riley looks away. I raise my eyebrows at him, but he pretends he doesn’t notice.

  “No, I’ve got it,” their mom says, not noticing how weirded out her kids are by what just happened. And me. Don’t forget me.

  Curtis gets up and follows her off into the kitchen anyway.

  As soon as they’re out of sight, I turn to Riley and say, “So, that guy’s doing your mom, huh?”

  He makes a face. “No. I mean, they... They’ve been on a couple dates, I guess. That’s all.”

  “That we know about,” Zach says. “She only just told us they were together last week. She wouldn’t have said anything if it wasn’t for sure. Which means they were already going out before that.”

  “He’s got a point,” I tell Riley.

  “And she never dates,” Zach adds. “It’s only been three years.”

  “Three and a half,” Riley corrects him, without looking up from an imaginary spot on the table he’s staring at. “But... she wasn’t going to stay single forever.” He sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than anyone else. “And he’s always looked out for us, ever since Dad died. It makes sense, kind of.”

  “But he’s not our dad. It’s weird. And gross. And he’d better not be... you know. With her.” Zach’s face turns a little red and he clears his throat.

  “He’s a liar,” I say, taking a drink from my water glass. “His story doesn’t make sense.”

  Riley spreads his hands out on the table. “It’s just a story.”

  “A fake one. When did he say it happened? Five years ago? Because the Thief King relocated to South America a year or so before that.”

  “So? Maybe he got the date wrong. And... he likes telling us stories about our dad. I figure he ran out of true ones a long time ago.”

  “So you don’t care that he’s a liar? Or that he’s—”

  “He’s not doing my mom!”

  He practically shouts that at me, right as his mom and Curtis come back in with a tray of brownies and a carton of ice cream.

  There’s a moment of really awkward silence. Zach squeezes his eyes shut, opening one eye slowly to survey the fallout. Riley hunches his shoulders and doesn’t look at anyone.

  Finally Curtis chuckles to himself a little and sets the ice cream on the table. Their mom follows suit with the brownies, as if everyone’s silently agreeing to pretend it didn’t happen. Except for Riley, who glares at me and mouths, Thanks a lot.

  As if it’s my fault he’s so easily agitated.

  “So, Riley,” Curtis says as he takes his seat across the table, “tell me about what happened during your final. I hear there was some trouble?” His eyes go right to me as he says that part.

  “Oh, leave the boys alone, Curtis.” Their mo
m swats his arm. “It was one mistake. I seem to remember you making more than your fair share when you were their age.”

  “I didn’t have a League scholarship on the line.”

  Riley swallows, looking guilty, as if what happened was in any way his fault.

  “You know your mom can’t afford for you to go to Heroesworth on her own. And you know why you have that scholarship. Don’t dishonor him by losing it.”

  Yeah, no pressure. I don’t know what scholarship he’s talking about, but I can’t help glaring at him. “Riley didn’t do anything wrong. It was my fault. He just happened to be there.”

  “And by ‘just happening to be there’ and not stopping you, he broke a League rule. Heroes can’t just let people go around hurting others. And he has a League scholarship to think about, and they don’t look too favorably on that kind of thing. A hero needs to be aware of what company he keeps. His father would have never gone into battle with someone he couldn’t trust. With a...” He trails off, apparently deciding it would be too rude to say half villain at the dinner table.

  Zach sits up straighter, like maybe he’s going to tell him where he can shove it, or maybe launch himself across the table in an attack.

  Riley’s eyes go wide. His voice takes on a defensive edge. “I trust Damien.”

  Curtis raises his eyebrows and tilts his head, like Are you sure about that? “As I understand it, none of the heroes in your group shot anyone. You were there with him, meaning it was your responsibility to stop him. He put you in a situation you shouldn’t have been in, and now the League’s putting you on probation for your scholarship. Your father and I never would have done that to each other.” He gestures at me and Riley with his fork. “There’s more to trust than knowing he won’t shoot you while your back is turned.”

  “I resent that,” I mutter. “I would so shoot him to his face.”

  Curtis ignores me. “You have to know he’s looking out for you. That he’s not going to do anything crazy and take you down with him.”

  “They’re sixteen,” Riley’s mom says. “They’re kids, not adults in the League. They’re allowed to mess up sometimes.”

  “I trust Damien,” Riley repeats. “He didn’t mean to get me in trouble.”