by R. J. Ross
“What about me?” Trent asks.
“Your job is to fix anything that breaks when they don’t follow instructions,” Nico says. “You and Jack can both pull that duty. Now head out, and don’t call attention to yourselves. Anyone that gets in trouble with the guys working here has detention for a month, got it?”
“Ye-ess,” everyone says.
“Good. Head out.”
We head out, my group going for the grocery part of the store. Carla joins us, bouncing around like a ball. “What do we want to eat this week?” I ask.
“How about tacos?” Carla asks. “Or those cheesy chicken burritos?”
“Well,” I say, glancing at Jimmi, “why don’t we ask Jimmi? Since it’s her first week?”
“I would like Mexican,” Jimmi says. “I eat a lot of it back home, though, so maybe in a few weeks?”
“Can I come over to the dorms and watch you cook?” Emily asks. “I’m serious about learning to cook.”
“I want to cook!” Carla says. “Well, maybe, they didn’t let me try after the first time--I mean, I can definitely do it! I swear!”
“You don’t have the attention span to cook,” I tell her. “Tell you what, if I ever need a blender, I’ll call you in, okay?” I have a blender. She doesn’t need to know that fact.
“Okay!”
I feel like a housewife again, I think as I start filling a cart that had been left at the wayside with food. Now that I’m feeding an entire dorm--plus an unknown guy starting next week--I’m going to need to work out portion amounts and budget appropriately. I know Nico’s planning on paying, but he didn’t give me a set amount. So how much--
“Can I ask something?” Jimmi bursts out, totally ruining my mental calculations.
“Sure!” Emily says.
“Why don’t they have a cook in the dorms? Is it just Vinny doing all the work?”
“I enjoy cooking,” I say before anyone can answer. “It’s where I feel most comfortable.” I grab a bag of rice and put it in the cart, wondering if she’s going to keep going. Knowing Jimmi, most likely.
“But you’re also a high schooler and you have to help with the younger kids, too, right? Isn’t cooking a lot more work?”
“Vinny wants to cook,” Carla says quietly, “it’s what he always wanted. We saw--um--he used to watch the shows all the time... back then.”
“It’s what keeps me sane,” I say bluntly before walking on. “I’ve got a question for you, Em,” I declare, looking over at the redhead. “Why do you want to cook so badly?”
“Because I’m dating a human black hole,” she says. “Or did you not notice? It’s only fair if we can take turns cooking when we’re adults. Right now he’s the only one that can.” Wow, she’s thinking long-term, isn’t she? Well, that’s not any of my business, is it?
“Wait, I can’t believe I only now made the connection--Trent’s your boyfriend, right?” Jimmi says.
“Yeah, he is,” Emily says with a grin. “I heard he made Vinny do most of the fighting down south--you didn’t get too beat up, did you, Vin?” she asks me.
“Nah, I did okay,” I say. “He did sort of just shove the gig on me, though. I’d have been perfectly fine handing it over.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re being trained to be a leader,” someone says behind us. I turn, looking blankly at Jack--who still looks like Jackie. Ace is trailing along behind him, his hands in his pockets as he looks around. “I figured I’d follow you, make sure I’ve still got your official debut,” Jack says to me.
“Not looking like that, you don’t,” I say.
“I’ll take it,” Ace says, moving closer.
“I already put a down-payment on it,” Jack says. “You can have Emily’s.”
Ace and Emily look at each other, and I can tell by the look on Ace’s face that he’d never even considered it. “Please?” she asks. “It’d be a LOT of fun!”
“You aren’t ready yet, though, right?” I say.
“Not yet--but I’m getting close!” she says. “I have a few new tricks up my sleeve, too!”
We reach the meat section and I start sorting through the various sausages. “What do you guys think about grilling kielbasa?” I ask, picking up a package. “I can ask Nico for a grill.”
“You’re making me hungry,” Jack says. “How about this, we have a spar tonight while we get the family to barbecue. Dad’s been talking hamburgers for the past week. Then, when we get our timing down, we do your debut. Might take a bit, but it’d make you look a lot better than the kids whose parents just call up and say that we’re fighting that night. They’re always off on their timing and other crap.”
I hesitate for all of a minute and then shrug. “Sure, sounds good, if I can get a nap in first. I had a long day yesterday.”
“Deal,” Jack says, holding out his hand. We shake.
“Deal,” Ace says, holding out his hand to Emily.
“YES!” she says, shoving a fist in the air and cheering. Ace shrugs it off and puts his hand back in his pocket.
“WHEN you’re told you’re ready,” Ace adds.
I toss a few packets of the kielbasa into the cart and head for the hamburger. We’re going to need a lot of it.
***
We wound up going to the bedding area as well, since Jimmi abruptly figured out she would need new things, too. I’m so exhausted as we get back to the dorms that I tell the others to put the groceries up and stumble into my bedroom, falling asleep as soon as my head touches the pillow. I need the sleep--I’ve got a spar with Jack ahead of me.
It seems like only moments before my eyes open again. I can’t sleep. I--wait. I’m not in my room. The heavy duty see-through walls that surround me are so familiar that I feel like throwing up. There’s the burn mark that I made last week before I fainted. I can see Carla in the distance, where she’s rocking almost maniacally, hugging herself and crying silently. I look over at Morgan, who’s sitting silently in the middle of her room without moving. Even with superior hearing I can barely hear if she’s breathing. Sometimes I wonder if she can stop her heart entirely for long periods of time. It’s a creepy thought, but it’s sneaked into my mind more than once.
It’d been a dream, a little voice whispers to me. Those months in Cape High, the feel of wind on my face, the knowledge that I’m free--all a dream. I’m back here with the broken television that only plays cooking channels. I look over at it, seeing Wolfgang Puck droning on about a casserole dish. I’ve seen this one before, I think, getting to my feet and walking to the wall. I press my hands to the glass, staring out at the other kids in their prisons. We’re doomed to be here for all eternity.
I feel a tear trickle down my cheek and get angry at myself for letting it get to me. That dream--it would have been better if I had never had it. If I hadn’t been shown freedom I wouldn’t be feeling this rush of hatred welling up inside of me--hatred for the Collector, hatred for myself for getting caught, hatred for everyone in my dream that had pretended to want to save me.
My hand lights up and the flames dance over my fingers, then up my arm. It starts spreading over my entire body, burning off my clothes and leaving me a flaming mass of rage. At any moment I’ll faint again as my flames take all the oxygen, but for now I throw back my head, screaming my rage, my sadness.
A strange beeping noise sneaks into my conscience. What is that sound?
***
“FIRE!!” Morgan bellows at the top of her voice. “Everybody out!”
“Where is it?” Banshee demands.
“Vinny’s room,” Morgan says. They both rush to the room and swing the door open, revealing an inferno that’s rapidly spreading, despite the sprinklers going off. Banshee takes a deep breath and blows the flames out with a massive blast of air. The only thing that remains burning is the teenage boy sound asleep in the middle of a bed of ashes. He’s thrashing, jerking in the midst of a nightmare. Morgan rushes forward, but someone passes her.
“I’ve got it,�
�� Jimmi says, wrapping her arms around Vinny’s body. For a moment it looks like she’ll burn, but the fire slowly dies down, leaving the teenage girl glowing a bright orange color for a moment. She lets out a sigh, reaching up and pushing Vinny’s hair out of his face. “What happened?” she asks Morgan.
“Probably a nightmare,” Morgan says quietly. “I’m surprised he slept through it.”
“Well, it’s been a rough two days,” Jimmi says, “especially for him. Can we get him a new bed?” she asks Banshee.
“It’ll be easier just to move him to another room,” Banshee says, already on the phone. “Nico? Yeah, I’m calling to tell you that Vinny had a nightmare. We’re going to need to redo his bedroom. Can you get something fireproof this time?”
“So... you can take his powers?” Morgan asks Jimmi.
“No, but I can take the energy the flames are giving off,” she says, reaching up and pulling a dead glow-stick from under her shirt. She wraps a hand around it and it starts to glow a brilliant orange. “Um...” she adds, looking down only to his stomach and turning bright red as she realizes his clothes had to have been burnt off again. “I’m done here,” she declares, getting to her feet and heading for the door. Morgan snickers as they leave the room. “He needs fireproof pajamas,” Jimmi tells her, so red that she’s still glowing after she stored the spare energy.
Morgan starts to laugh.
***
For a moment I was almost knocked out. The flames are gone, but I’m still in that tiny see-through hell, staring out blindly at the other kids trapped like me. I turn away from them, sick to my stomach. I wish I could save them. I wish I could do something--ANYTHING to help them. I’m useless.
“I’m sorry,” I say, lying down on the cot to the side of my room. “I’m sorry. I’m useless. So freaking useless...”
“Vinny.”
I hear Lance’s voice, but it’s from a distance. He’s probably trying to get me to cheer up or something. Of us all, though, Lance has it worse. They put a metal grill over the hole that they feed him through. It has to be unlocked before he can eat--half of the time it doesn’t work when the Collector or his lackeys come to do it. He’s probably skin and bones. I know he doesn’t have enough energy to change.
“Vinny, you’re dreaming, man,” Lance says. “Wake up.”
Wait... what?
I close my eyes, and then open them again, slowly, staring blankly at Lance. “Thank God,” he says. “I was afraid you’d burn down my room, too.”
“What?” I ask.
“You burnt your room down,” Lance says, sitting back on the bed and shrugging. “You were pretty out of it, too, so you slept right through it. All of your stuff is charred, though, and it stinks. Oh, and your boxers burnt off.”
I look around. We’re in his room, which is pretty bare except for a few pictures of animals stapled to the walls. The window is open and a breeze makes them flutter slightly. “Lance... this might sound a bit stupid... but we ARE out of the zoo, right?”
“Yeah, we are,” he says.
I fall back onto the bed, running a hand over my face. “I dreamed we weren’t,” I say quietly, looking away from him.
“We figured that,” Lance says. “Look, this probably isn’t something you want to think about right now--”
“Definitely not,” I mutter.
“But the new girl saw you in the buff.”
“What?” I barely refrain from yelping. “What happened?”
“She pushed right past Morgan and did the whole power absorption thing she does, it put out the fire Banshee didn’t put out, but you have GOT to get some fireproof sheets and boxers or something. I got no clue what all she saw, but uh... congrats?” he offers.
I groan and cover my face with Lance’s pillow. “What’s there to congratulate?” I complain against it. “Not that it’s the first time.”
“What?” he asks. “What all were you DOING down in Texas?”
“My clothes tend to burn off. I’m a fire mimic, remember?” I tell him, pulling the pillow off of my face and glaring at him. “Call Nico, tell him I want a year’s supply of fireproof boxers. No--make it A LIFETIME’S.”
“Makes sense,” Lance says, pulling out his phone. “I can’t believe we got Brandon out of the dorms for that long, though,” he adds idly as he waits for Nico to answer.
“Yeah,” I say, relaxing. “He’s probably traumatized all over again, though, thanks to me.”
“Nah, we always figured it’d happen sooner or later. Hey, Nico? Yeah, this is Lance. Vinny wants some fireproof boxers, a lot of them. Naw, just plain black is boring--can we get something interesting--yeah, like My Little Pon--” I hit him in the face with his pillow before he can finish. “And sheets,” he adds blandly. “Thanks.”
“I am NOT wearing My Little Pony boxers for the rest of my life!” I yell at him. The entire dorm starts laughing at that. I get out of his bed, wrapping his sheet around my waist, and go to raid his dresser. “Why do you have to be so short, anyway?” I complain as I pull out a pair of jeans. Oh well, shorts should work.
“Your uniform survived,” he says. “You could wear that for the spar. They’ve already brought in a couple of grills, after all.”
“What?” I ask.
“The barbecue’s set up already. You slept most of the day.”
“Go get my uniform, would you? I’ve got no urge to get caught streaking again,” I say. Lance hops off the bed and heads out of the room, leaving me standing here in a sheet. At least I’m alone. So... I burnt everything I owned over that stupid dream. At least I keep my notebooks of recipes in the kitchen. I walk over to the wall, bumping my forehead against it. “I’m such a moron.”
“You’re coming into your true powers.” The voice makes me jerk and turn, staring blankly at Flint, who’s in full uniform. “Yo! We came to check out the campus,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. “Your room is a mess, though.”
“This isn’t my room,” I say, tightening the sheet.
“I wasn’t talking about this one.” He walks in, looking around the room curiously.
“A bit early to be checking up on me, isn’t it?” I ask dryly.
“By the looks of your bedroom, I don’t think so,” he says. “I’m putting in for a temporary transfer. I’ll be working here, in Central, until you’re fully in control of your powers. I know this school is supposed to help with that, and I’m sure they’ve got some ideas, but I don’t feel comfortable just flying in once a week. You could kill people by accident.”
“I didn’t--”
“Not here, you didn’t, but that’s thanks to Banshee, isn’t it? Are all of your dorm mates fireproof?”
“No,” I admit.
“Then we need to start working on control,” he says. “Don’t think I’m going to take it easy on you, though, I never do.”
“You don’t strike me as a guy that’ll go out of his way to teach someone,” I say bluntly, looking up as Lance comes in with my uniform. He looks at Flint warily, a frown on his face. “This is Flint,” I tell him, grabbing the suit and pulling it on. “He’s Flameblaster--my mentor.”
“Oh,” Lance says. I can see him shutting down, practically, his grin disappearing as if it’d never been.
“He’s fine, Lance,” I tell him. “I stayed with him in Texas. He’s not interested in keeping you as a pet.” I reach over, patting him on the head twice before he shoves my hand away with a grin. “So everyone’s outside already?” I ask.
“Yep, they’ve got the training field set up for fire, too,” Lance says, glancing at Flint shyly before heading off.
I stay there for a second until I’m certain he’s far enough away not to be embarrassed by what I say next. “Lance can change into any living animal on the planet,” I tell him. “That means he’s an exotic cape, according to Collector.”
“And would make a psycho a very nice little pet, huh?” Flint says quietly.
“Most people try not to mention that
fact around him,” I admit with a shrug. I can, but that’s because he knows I’d be the first to take out the person that tried. “He’s cute enough as it is,” I add with an evil grin. Lance has always been bothered by his pretty face. His Native American genes are pretty pure, even if his hair is brown thanks to the unknown dad. Flint is looking at me funny, now. “What?” I demand.
“Nothing,” he says.
“Seriously, if you’re thinking something--”
“I’m just not used to seeing you smile like that,” he says. “Is he your best friend?”
“He’s my brother,” I say. “We’re family.” I head for the door, not giving him time to reply, and step outside into a massive barbecue party. “Why didn’t you tell me the cooking was already started!?” I bellow, making the entire group start to laugh.
“Aren’t you the headliner tonight?” Ken asks me, flipping a burger. “I think I can barbecue burgers well enough that it won’t offend you,” he adds teasingly.
“At least put some kielbasa on there,” I say. “Carla, go get the long sausage out of the fridge for me, okay?” I say.
“Okay!” she says, racing away.
“We’re ready over here, too,” Nico calls from where he’s lounging in the sky above the training field. “I’ll be guiding both of you, so make sure your earring is on.”
“Aren’t we going to eat first?” Jack asks.
“Oh, right, you’re a Liberty boy.” Nico snorts. “Fine, food first.”
“And music!” someone yells. “We want music!”
“I’ve got my CD--” Justin says evilly, getting several things thrown at him for it. I walk over to him, dropping a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s okay, man, you can always do it live,” I say shamelessly, grinning at him. “Max! Where’s your mic?” I call over to the teen flirting with his girlfriend. He pulls out the infamous gold mic from his pocket and tosses it to Justin.
