“Let’s just get it over with. Everyone else has already started.”
It’s true. Pretty much everyone in the class is bent over their sheets of paper, scribbling stuff and discussing the question on the board.
The teacher, Mr. Hernandez, wanders over to us, giving us a suspicious look. “Is there a problem here?”
I open my mouth, but Riley glares at me. “We’re working,” he says, scrambling to get a piece of paper out of his binder.
Mr. Hernandez nods in approval and goes off to annoy another group.
The question on the board is about what we would do if we had to rescue two people at once, but we only had time to save one of them. We’re supposed to talk it over and figure out what our plan would be.
Riley carefully writes down the question on the piece of paper, even though it’s on the board. “This one’s easy. We split up. There’s two of us and two of them.”
I shake my head. “That’s what everyone’s going to write.”
“There’s a reason they’re all writing it.”
“Uh, yeah. The reason is that they’re idiots. It’s too obvious.”
He sighs. “You’re making this too difficult.”
“Let me guess. Your best friend Mason would just go along with it. Because you’re both ‘on the same page.’”
“You don’t get it. Mason wouldn’t just go along with it. He’d agree with me. He wouldn’t be looking for ways to cause trouble.”
Is that really what he thinks I’m doing? “He’d agree with you, but then he’d just stand there. Why were you the only one who went chasing after that guy at the museum?”
“That wasn’t—”
“Next scenario,” Mr. Hernandez says, grabbing a marker and writing on the whiteboard as he talks. “Not only do you have two people you need to save at the same time, but it turns out both rescues are a two-person job. No splitting up—I saw a lot of you writing that on your papers. And one victim is the person you care about most. The other is the person your partner cares about most. If you can’t agree on which one to save, they both die. What do you do?”
“See?” I tell Riley, gesturing at the board. “It was a trick question.”
“I was the one who spotted the guy at the museum. There wasn’t time to talk it over. The guy saw me notice him, so he took off, and I followed.”
“And Mason saw you running after some guy, and he... what?”
“He went and got security. And don’t look at me like that. It all happened really fast. There was nothing he could do.”
“If you were really on the same page, you wouldn’t have needed to talk anything over. If I’d been there—”
“You would have run after him with me. I know, X. But you know what else you would have done?”
I swallow. “Mason having a lame power doesn’t make him a better partner than me.”
“You would have zapped the guy.”
“Come on—give me more credit than that. I wouldn’t have—”
“Yeah, you would. You would’ve zapped that guy, who was unarmed, and I would’ve lost my scholarship.” He rubs his face with his hands and breaths out through his nose.
“I don’t just go around zapping everyone who looks suspicious. Geez. And before you say anything about what happened at the diner on Friday, that guy was definitely armed. He was pointing a gun at people, including my dad. So if that’s what you’re getting at—”
“It’s not. Let’s just work on the assignment.” His eyes flick down to the paper. “Who do you care about most?”
“Kat. You’re not even going to ask if I’m okay?”
“Sarah already told me.” He writes down her name, then adds Kat’s next to it. “She said you were fine. And trying to convince her not to go to college.”
The teacher stands in front of the whiteboard and waves a hand to get our attention. “Three more minutes, people!”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. Sarah doesn’t need to go to college. Plus, if she becomes my sidekick full time, she won’t leave town. You should be on board with this.”
“Just because she’s going to college doesn’t mean she’s leaving. Two of the schools on her list are in Golden City. Come on, we only have three minutes to figure this out.”
“We don’t need three minutes.”
“Right.” He sounds a little relieved. “Because we’re saving Sarah.” He starts to circle her name.
“What? Why would you think that?”
“Because you care about Sarah, too? Sarah’s the most important person to me, and you’re her best friend, so, if you do the math—”
“Whoa. This isn’t about math, Perkins. You can’t decide whose life is worth more based on math. Unless, in this scenario, Kat is pregnant with my unborn lovechild and you’re killing two people by not even considering rescuing her. Three, if it’s twins. I don’t even know how you can be so heartless.”
“That’s not—” He tightens his grip on the pencil he’s been using to write with. “Nobody’s pregnant in this scenario. It’s just them. And Kat can take care of herself.”
“Yeah, so can Sarah. That’s not the point. Everybody needs help sometimes.”
“Okay, fine. Sarah’s more useful to society.”
I gape at him.
Riley glances away. “You know she is.”
“What, as opposed to Kat, because she’s a supervillain?”
He ducks his head. “That’s not what I meant. But Sarah’s a genius. She invents really amazing things.”
“Really amazing things that have a tendency to blow up.”
“Really amazing things that you rely on. Sarah’s brilliant.”
“And you think that makes her better than Kat.”
He sighs. “I was just trying to say that if we’re being objective about this—”
“Time!” Mr. Hernandez shouts. “How many of you came up with an answer?” He scans the room for raised hands. “Anybody?”
Everyone looks at each other. Nobody raises their hand.
Mr. Hernandez folds his arms and gets this smug grin on his face, like that’s exactly the result he expected.
Which really annoys me, because we didn’t come up with anything, either.
“I’ve been teaching this class for ten years, and nobody’s ever—”
The door opens, interrupting him, and another teacher pokes her head in. She seems really frazzled, and there’s urgency in her voice. “Turn on the TV. Quick! It’s on every station!” She ducks back out into the hall, not even closing the door all the way, and her hurried footsteps echo as she runs to the next classroom.
I share a look with Riley.
“What’s going on?” he whispers.
“How should I know?”
Mr. Hernandez’s face goes pale. He grabs the remote off his desk and turns on the TV.
And there, on the screen, is a dark, grainy video of two superheroes interrogating a supervillain. The supervillain is tied up, unable to move. One of the heroes is holding a club. The other raises his hands and shoots bright beams of energy at the villain, who immediately starts screaming.
Then the image dissolves and words appear on the screen:
This is the Truth. It’s time to believe.
Chapter 15
MY HEART RACES AS more images appear on the screen. A couple of superheroes kicking someone on the ground. A written account from an anonymous villain of her treatment while in League custody. The camera zooms in on some key phrases:
They didn’t feed me for four days.
Later, they determined I was innocent and debated what to do with me.
I almost didn’t get out alive.
A cold, unsettling feeling creeps up my spine. I glance around the room, gauging other people’s reactions. Pretty much everyone is staring in horror at the screen.
Someone says, “That’s a lie. Villains are liars.”
Heads turn toward me.
I ignore them, keeping my focus on the
TV. There are a couple pictures of villains right after being released from the League. Black eyes. Broken bones. Burns.
My stomach churns, empty and sick. I never trusted the League, but somehow this is worse than I expected.
Riley’s hands are shaking. He looks over at me, but I pretend I don’t notice.
Other kids are starting to mutter that it’s fake. Everyone knows the League doesn’t do this kind of stuff. Villains do. It would be just like them to stage something like this.
Photos could be set up. Written accounts could easily be faked. But these are real. I recognize some of the superheroes in them. Not anyone I know, but people I’ve seen on the news sometimes. They wouldn’t pose for pictures like this. And there’s something so visceral about the images, I don’t know how anyone can question them.
Then a video comes on. I swallow when I see myself on the screen. I’m at Grandpa’s party. Dressed up and obviously there on purpose. You can see the top of Xavier’s head, but all the focus is on me.
I can feel everyone in the room staring at me again. Riley leans in and whispers, “What’s going on, X?”
But I don’t have an answer for him. I sit and watch, just as stunned as anyone.
Well, maybe not quite as stunned as them. I do have some idea of what this is, at least. I just don’t know why it’s happening.
In the video, I say, “I support villain rights. Obviously.”
Grandpa’s questions are cut out, so we never hear his voice. It jumps to me answering him.
“Uh, because I’m a villain? And I live with heroes. I spend all day with them at school. And they don’t care about us having rights.”
An angry murmur runs through the classroom. Sweat prickles along my back and sparks ignite beneath my skin. I can’t believe this.
“You should see how they’ve rewritten the history books,” I continue in the video. I’m clenching my fists as I’m saying it, giving away how much it matters to me. “They make it out like villains have never done anything worthwhile or contributed to society, like we’re all just here to get in their way and cause trouble. They give themselves all the glory. And they act like villains are diseased or something.”
I can’t believe Grandpa was filming me. Without asking. And now he’s broadcasting it on every channel.
The video jumps past Grandpa’s part again, going straight to me, practically shouting, “Of course it bothers me! I mean, I don’t care what they think about me. The kids at school and stuff. But, yeah, the way heroes act like all villains are automatically evil and that they’re better than us? That pisses me off. A lot. And I knew things weren’t great for villains, like, before I went to live with heroes. But even my family, the people I know care about me and don’t hate me for supposedly being half evil, they still say and do letterist stuff all the time. My friends, too.”
It ends right there, before I tell Grandpa I can’t join the Truth. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Me saying I can’t join might have taken some of the edge off what I just said—maybe—but it would also be an outright admission that I knew about the Truth before all this.
Though maybe that’s not exactly a secret now, either.
It stops on a freeze frame. Xavier’s head is tilted back as he looks up at me. Words dissolve onto the image:
The son of the Crimson Flash believes in the Truth.
Do you?
I find Gordon in his dressing room at the TV studio. I didn’t even have to ask where he was—as soon as I stepped foot in the building, everyone stared at me, until someone pointed down the hall, knowing exactly why I must be here.
Gordon’s pacing the room when I come in. He looks a little startled to see me and glances at the clock on the wall. He frowns but sounds more tired than mad when he says, “You should still be in school.”
Technically, that’s not true, because school got out two minutes ago. But I couldn’t have gotten here this fast unless I left early. I couldn’t exactly stay for the rest of fifth period when pretty much the entire class was glaring at me like they were three seconds away from finding some torches and pitchforks. Plus, Riley was giving me this wide-eyed look like he couldn’t believe what I’d done and was expecting me to fill him in. Which I wasn’t really looking forward to anyway, and I certainly wasn’t going to do it in front of the angry mob.
I expected Gordon to be pissed at me. Maybe not “my son just blew up part of the school and got arrested and expelled” pissed, but still mad. Probably a lot mad. Even though I didn’t have anything to do with that broadcast and I was only stating my opinion. But he couldn’t know any of that. And, given his lack of pissed-off-ness, I’m not actually sure he saw that video, even if everyone else in the studio obviously did.
“So,” I say, clearing my throat and bracing myself for the worst, “you didn’t see the—”
“Of course I saw it.” His face is pale, and he’s giving off this really weird vibe, part anxiety, part sadness.
“Okay, well, I know this looks bad. But I can tell you who’s behind it.” If Grandpa’s going to sell me out, then I can do the same to him. I tried calling him about a million times on the way here, but he kept sending me to voicemail. Finally he sent a text that said, It was for your own good.
Yeah, right.
I expect Gordon to look shocked or pleasantly surprised, like he knew he could count on me after all. But he just stands there, waiting, like he’s worried I’m going to say it’s me or something. As if I’d have time for that.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you want to know who I was talking to in the video?” I mean, Grandpa pretty much threw me under a bus for his own gain, so it’s not like I don’t want to return the favor. But I was kind of expecting at least a little bit of excitement over this. “Come on, Dad. I’m giving you an exclusive.”
“You lied to me.” Gordon sinks down into a chair, his head in his hands.
“Not exactly, but—”
“When we were at that diner. The perpetrator said he tried to rob them in the name of the Truth. Did you know? Did you know what he meant?”
Well, this isn’t going how I planned. “Yeah, I’m getting to that. If you’ll just let me—”
“You didn’t say anything! You knew this was going to happen, and you didn’t tell me. That’s lying, Damien.”
“I wanted to tell you.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I couldn’t. I promised, and, no, I didn’t know this was going to happen. I knew about the Truth, but that’s it.” Mostly.
He sits up, watching me carefully. “I’d really like to know what’s going on here. I thought you wanted to be a hero, and now...” He lifts up a hand, then lets it fall to his lap in defeat. “You joined some villain terrorist group.”
“Whoa. First of all, they’re not a terrorist group.”
He tilts his head, challenging that.
“They haven’t hurt anybody. And second, I didn’t join. And I’m not going to.” Especially after the crap Grandpa pulled today. “So relax a little, okay?”
He scowls at me. “Don’t tell me to relax. My son was on TV today supporting a terrorist movement against the League. After lying to me and keeping secrets. Because what? Being a villain is more important to you than your own family?!”
I can’t help wincing at that. “I have two families, remember? My grandpa—I mean, Alistair Locke—”
“I know who your grandfather is, Damien.”
He says that like it should be obvious, but it’s news to me. “He started the Truth. He wants me to have a future in villainy. I told him no. But he asked me to keep it a secret, and I couldn’t betray him. So, yeah, I didn’t tell you.”
“But you meant what you said in that video.”
He looks me in the eyes, and I glance away. “I didn’t know he was recording me. Or that he was going to make me the Truth’s spokesperson without my permission.” And without any payment.
Gordon sighs and pinches the
bridge of his nose. “I wish you’d come to me about this.”
“Why? So you could tell the League, and they could make sure no one ever heard of the Truth or about how villains are treated like crap every day? That’s exactly what the League wants—to shut us up, so they can keep oppressing villains. And I know they have their precious rules and everything, but you saw those pictures. Where were their rules then? Is it okay to attack an unarmed villain as long as you really, really don’t like him?! Everyone acts like I did the worst thing ever when I zapped that superhero, but you know they wouldn’t have even blinked if that guy had been a villain. If I’d zapped a supervillain, it wouldn’t have made the news.”
Gordon stares at me, his mouth gaping a little. “Damien, I meant I wish you’d come to me about this. You said in that video that even the people that care about you are...” He hesitates, not wanting to say it.
“Letterist?”
He nods. “You’ve obviously got a lot of pent up anger about it. And I’m sorry if I’ve—if we’ve—been contributing to that.”
“Wow.” Did he really just apologize to me? For being letterist? “But it’s okay. I know you’re not doing it on purpose.”
He gets up and puts his hands on my shoulders. “It’s not okay. I don’t want you to feel like an outsider in your own home. It’s bad enough that you have to deal with that at school, but I want all my kids to feel safe when they’re under my roof.”
“So, you’re not mad?”
He looks at me like What do you think? “Of course I’m mad. You still lied to me. You might not have joined your grandfather’s terrorist group, but you agree with him. You made that very clear in that video, and the fact that you didn’t know it was being recorded just shows how truthful it was. You chose to keep his secret for him, instead of coming to me about it. You assumed you couldn’t trust me, and that you could trust him, even though he’s—”
The Betrayal of Renegade X (Renegade X, Book 3) Page 17
