by R. J. Ross
“I don’t like this,” he mutters before turning and walking away. For a second I’m relieved. Then I realize that he’s running off without brushing his teeth. Ew. I step forward, heading into the restroom rather than thinking about it. I have enough things to focus on that don’t include Jack’s personal hygiene.
I get cleaned up, grab a pop-tart and a sack lunch from Marge, and head out on my own to the bus stop. My attention is diverted, my eyes searching the area around me, the sky, the trees. I just know that Max is watching from somewhere. I’m never going to be free of his attention--but that’s not nearly as worrying as the fact that I can’t find him. He’s nowhere to be seen. A hand drops on my shoulder and I jump a foot off the ground, twisting as I do to turn and confront Max--
It’s Sunny. “Hey,” he says. That one word is like a waterfall of relief and I fall forward, resting my forehead on his shoulder. “I heard you and Jack,” he says.
“What do we do?” I whisper.
“Relax,” he whispers back. “I’ve never seen anything about Max hurting norms. Even the grayhounds were empty.”
“They were? I thought they said they were full.”
“Yeah. They lied. It came out a week or two later, but nobody really cared by then.”
“But back then Max hadn't met Jack,” I mutter. “Even I want to hurt the guy.” I feel his shaking before I hear him laughing. I can’t help but pull away long enough to give him a dirty look.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says. “But there’s no point in worrying about it. We’ve got bigger things to focus on, right?”
“Like?”
“When do we head for the Hall?”
“But--but what if Max is right?” I ask. “What if they look at us and see... you know who?”
“We’ve done nothing.”
“I know that, you know that, but will they?” The bus arrives and the door swings open, so I head in, heading for the first empty seat I can find. The bus is too crowded to talk more, so I just slide into my spot and wait for Sunny to drop down next to me. No one talks to us, not even the kids that live in the foster home with us. It's how it always is. I dig through my bag and pull out my homework, starting to work on the stuff I should have been doing when I was buying cupcakes with a super villain.
"I don't trust him not to do something," Sunny says.
"Who, Jack? Neither do I. He's going to get himself killed, and I'll be able to say 'I told you' to the splatter on the concrete," I say, jotting down another Spanish verb. "It might even get us on the front page."
"Not Jack," Sunny says. "Although you're probably right. Think we'd get the day off for his funeral?"
I stare at him for a second before a laugh escapes me. It's terrible, but it's funny. "I hope so," I say. "I seriously hope so."
Sunny snickers and I can literally feel him relax next to me, even though we're not touching. "Why aren't you doing your homework?" I ask him.
"I did it at school yesterday."
"You did--but we planned--you punk," I complain, shoving his shoulder. "Give it over."
"What?"
"I'm going to copy it, so give it over!"
"That's cheating."
"So is what you did."
"Fine, whatever," he says, digging out his homework and handing it over. I jot down his homework, changing things here and there and wondering if this is the first step to being a super villain. It probably is, I decide. I'm going to wind up holding mass events ransom and blowing up all the computers and TVs in the world, or something. It's in the blood. I should resign myself to being a super--
Okay, now I'm just feeding myself a line of bull because a part of me still thinks Max is cute. See, if I just give in to being bad I can go along with him--
No. Seriously, I'm going to be a good girl. I promised myself I would. It's what Mom would want, and for the first few months I swore she would show up at any moment. I still have dreams where she just shows up, like she's never been gone, and she hugs me like she always does and tells me that she was caught in traffic.
Then I realize that no matter how big the traffic jam is, there's no way you can be stuck in it for this long. The dream usually turns into a nightmare about then, and I really don't want to think about it right now. So I turn my attention to something else. "Think he'll come to the park today?" I ask.
"Don't know. I think he's up to something," Sunny says.
"I was afraid you'd say that," I say. The bus pulls into the school parking lot and up to the curb. The door opens and we filter out with the other kids, bumping bags and shoulders. I try to be careful--most of the kids are carrying cell phones or smart phones, or something that'll explode if I run into it. The last thing I want to do is do that. Like I said, I swore to myself I'd be good.
Well, good enough.
Hey, wait, that's Max standing in front of the school, isn't it? I mean, sure he's wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and that's his back that's to me, but I am almost one hundred percent sure that it's him.
"What is he--" Sunny starts out, only to stop as Max turns to us again. So, is it just me or is his hearing really, really good? It doesn't look like he's surprised to see us, if that huge grin is any indicator.
"Oh no," I say. "No. No nononono, you are not thinking of coming to our school and--why are you at our school?" I ask.
"I'm transferring!" Max says. "I figure one school's as good as another, right?"
"You go to school?" Sunny asks.
"Not technically. Technically I've already got my G.E.D., but hey, one school's as good as no school, right?" he says, heading past Sunny and straight for me. "Hi," he says with a smile that should be declared a deadly weapon. Yes, that sounds cheesy. It's worse if you're the one that honestly believes its true, trust me on this.
"Max," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. This is panic time, okay? You take a super villain with gravity powers and stick him in a building pack full of teenagers with hormonal imbalances--or whatever it is you want to call puberty--and it's definitely going to end badly. Plus, we've all agreed that Max is not the most stable mentally, right? Not to mention, Jack goes to school here. He rides his bike, doesn't usually show up on time, and skips a lot of his classes, but he still goes to school here!
"Hey," Max says. "I'm starting to think you don't want me here, Zoe. That hurts!"
"I don't want you here!" I say. "You don't need to go to school! And what if someone figures out--that?" I demand.
"She's right. It's too risky," Sunny says. "You'll slip up sooner or later, then they'll call the H--the others, and you'll get--you know!"
"I'm not stupid," Max says, looking at Sunny. "I can keep it under wraps."
I'm picturing highschool football games with Max's idea of entertainment right about now. It's exactly like the Super Bowl--but in ugly yellow school bus flavors. I have got to talk him out of this! Yelling doesn't seem like it'll work... "Max?" I ask.
"Yeah?" he says, moving closer.
"I already have a possible dad in those cells," I say quietly. "And I'd rather not have a possible friend in them, as well."
"Possible?" he repeats. "I thought we already were friends."
"Please, Max?"
"You don't trust me to behave myself?" he asks.
"Should I?"
"I can behave myself just fine," he says, his expression turning serious and somehow dangerous. It's another sign of something going on in his mind that I'm not aware of. Another side of him. I really don't think that the cheerful personality is Max's usual mindset. He's playing us, I'm pretty sure. That scares me, too.
"Max--" I say again.
The door of the school opens and Mr. Stance steps out, looking as nerdy as ever. He's the science teacher, the one that makes the stupidest jokes you've ever heard and laughs at them. "Are you the new student? Max Jeffery?" he asks, heading for our group. "It looks like you're already acquainted with some of our students--"
"Just the twins," Max says, moving so he's stand
ing between the two of us and draping an arm over our shoulders. "Me and them are good friends," he adds. I want to elbow him in the gut, especially when he just leaves his arms there, like it's perfectly acceptable. Even Mr. Stance looks a bit confused.
"With Zoe and Sunny?" he asks. "Well that--that's a pleasant surprise!" he says after a second of thought. Really, Mr. Stance, you sound like it's a shock that we have friends.
Okay, maybe it is.
"Well, if that's the case, Zoe, Sunny, can you two show him around after he speaks with the principal?" Mr. Stance asks.
"Um, yeah, we can do that," Sunny says.
"Then if you don't mind, I'll just borrow Mr. Jeffery for a moment," Mr. Stance says. "If you would, Mr. Jeffery?" he asks.
"Sure," Max says. "You two will behave while I'm gone, right?"
"It's not us that needs worrying about," Sunny mutters as Max follows the teacher into the building. I look at Sunny, he looks at me. I'm nervous.
"Why is he doing this?" I ask him quietly.
"Probably because we're here," Sunny says.
***
"Nico Masters, AKA Technico, please sit down." The voice is familiar.
"Mastermental? That you?" Nico asks as he walks into the darkened room, heading for the chair in the middle. There's a light hanging over it, rocking back and forth slowly. "I'm surprised. I didn't expect the head of the Hall to be interviewing me."
"You're a special case," Mastermental says. Known as Double M to his friends, he is one of the most dangerous supers around. No one knows that better than Nico. "So, what makes you think we'll let you out of the Cape Cells?"
"I've done my time," Nico says. "I've resolved to become a useful part of society."
"Oh? How?"
"By getting out of it," Nico says, looking around. "How many of you are there? Or are you watching me from behind a screen somewhere?"
"That isn't what we've come here to discuss, Nico," Double M says. "How will getting out of society be a useful contribution?"
"Well it's pretty simple. I'm cutting down on crime," Nico says, "since I'm not working. I figured I'd find an island somewhere in the Pacific, settle down, hook up a satellite. It'll be nice. You'd be surprised how sick you get of walls when you're stuck inside all the time."
"And your children?" Double M asks.
The room goes still. Everyone is shocked by the statement--but not nearly as shocked as Nico is. He can feel the blood leave his face.
"What?"
***
"Just how did you get into my first hour class?" I demand as I lead Max into my History class.
"What, you think I'm going to come to school just to go to classes that you two aren't in?" Max asks, looking every inch the typical teenage highschooler. Girls are staring at him. Guys are watching him. Who am I kidding? He's the center of attention and it's all his fault that I am too, now. But now Max isn't looking at me--he's looking at someone sitting at the back.
I look up, following his line of sight, knowing that it will be Jack--but it's not. A tall, quiet blonde guy is sitting there. I think his name is... What was it, again? Brent? Trent? I'm not sure, but he's staring right back at Max. Automatically I reach out, tugging at Max's sleeve. "Hey, we need to sit down," I say.
He looks at me, as if only now remembering that I'm there. "Yeah, sure," he says, heading for a seat next to the window. I can't help but look at Trent, curiously. He's watching Max like a hawk.
"Do you know him?" I whisper as I sit down in front of him.
"Nope."
"Then what was all that?"
"Your imagination," Max says. I don't believe him. In fact I find myself looking over at the other guy, trying to think of what I know about him. He never talks unless the teacher asks him something. He doesn't stand out. There's a lot of kids in school that don't stand out, including me. So why would Max look straight at him?
Jack walks in. He's actually here before the class starts, that's a shocker. That he's heading straight for me and Max, on the other hand, isn't a surprise at all. "What are you doing here?" he demands, grabbing Max's shirt. "You don't go here."
"I do now. Stop stretching my shirt."
"You're lying."
"He's not, Jack," I say, staring at the hand on Max's shirt rather than at Jack. I can't help it. What happens if he tears the shirt? Does Max just blow it off--or does he kill him? And don't tell me that I'm paranoid, a guy that can lift two greyhound buses with his mind can absolutely kill someone. "He transferred."
Jack looks at me, but I'm still staring at his hand. He lets go with a curse. "I don't like this guy!"
"So? You don't like me, either. All it means is you should sit on the other side of the room."
"I don't--don't like you," he mutters. "We're house mates, right? That counts!"
I look at him, raising an eyebrow. "For what?"
"For having an opinion on your boyfriend!" he says, snarling the final word. Oh. Right. He thinks we're dating.
"No it doesn't," I say after sorting through that thought and deciding it might be for the best, still.
"Yes it does!"
"No it doesn't!"
"Yes it--"
"It doesn't," Max says. "Now sit down." I can feel it, I realize as Jack literally collapses into the seat behind him. It's like gravity is shoving down on me--not nearly as hard as it is on Jack, apparently, but it is. The look on Jack's face is priceless. His eyes are huge and his face is pale.
"You're--" he says.
"A student in this school? Yes, I am," Max says. A chair clatters and we all turn, staring at Trent whose desk has fallen to the ground. He's standing, his hands in fists at his sides, his attention completely focused on Max. Max looks at him, smiling slightly, as if satisfied by something.
"That's one more," he says quietly.
I look at him. I look at Trent, or whatever his name is, who's picking up his desk and setting it up properly now. So... that means there's four of us here?
Well... crap.
***
"Your son and daughter emailed us earlier this week," Mastermental says, pulling out a file. "I wasn't aware of them, either, actually. But once I looked into it--well, you can see for yourself." He steps into the light, a distinguished looking Asian man. He looks only a bit over middle age, even though he is certainly old enough to be Nico's father.
Slowly Nico takes the folder, pulling it open. The two pictures pinned to the front page have him staring blindly. The boy, especially, he realizes. "Who's the mother?" he asks.
"Rosenthorn. Summer Rosenthorn," Mastermental says. "You should know that better than we do, I suspect."
Nico curses and starts flipping through the papers, skimming the information. "I want a paternity test," he says, tossing the folder over his shoulder. "You have no proof that they're mine."
"Fine, I'll arrange it."
"But this isn't why we're here," Nico says. "We're here to say that I'm ready for parole."
"Ah, yes, about that," Mastermental says, strolling out of the light again. "We have some demands that you need to fulfill."
"What the heck? I'm the ex-villain, not you!"
"First, you really will become a benefit to society," Mastermental says, completely ignoring him. "Considering your special talents, I've already determined how you will do so--under close supervision, of course. Very close supervision."
"What, working at Burger King?" Nico snarls. "Thanks, but no thanks. I can find a job for myself."
"You'll be one of the heads of a new project. And since you've so gracefully contributed to the next generation of heroes, who better to teach them?"
"What?" Nico says, trying to comprehend what he swears he must have just heard.
"We need to train our future heroes. A mentoring style is all well and good to a point, but I think we would all prefer if heroes had a more structured, controlled raising. Regulation, Nico, regulation is the key. Supers need to know more than just vigilanteism these days. They need to know
how to deal with a variety of situations in a politically correct manner--or at least pass themselves off as being politically correct."
"And you're having a super villain teach them this."
"Not just you, of course. There will be a board of teachers under you--"
"I don't want to teach!" Nico says, going straight to the heart of it. "I have no use for kids! They're annoying wastes of space and time--"
"You are the son of Superior and Tatiana," Mastermental says--his voice echoing both in the room and in Nico's mind. It's booming and painful, but Nico doesn't dare wince. "You have brought two children into this world--Superior stock--and you dare tell me that you won't train them? This is more than just a debt to society--this is a prospective disaster and it is all. Your. Fault."
"Two," Nico says almost silently.
"Two what?"
"There's two of them--if the blood tests prove they are mine," he grits out. His head is killing him. He's pretty much paralyzed, thanks to the power null suit and collar they've stuck him in. It says something that he can even talk at this moment.
"Exactly. Two disasters. You of all people must realize how dangerous it is to have two Superior blood children wandering the streets."
"Their mother is--"
"Missing," Mastermental says. "Presumed dead. She's been gone for about a year and a half--"
"What?" Nico asks. "How--"
"Norms do that, I'm afraid. They die so easily--"
"SUMMER ISN'T A NORM!" he bellows, his emotions boiling up enough to shake the paralysis out of his system. He gets to his feet, but there's no one to grab or even yell at face to face. Mastermental is nowhere to be seen. He can't even hear him breathing. "Summer was--Summer was--IS Lady Rose."
The room goes silent. Finally it's Mastermental that speaks. "You're telling us," he says very calmly, "that those are the children of Technico and Lady Rose?"
"But Lady Rose was an elemental hero--she could control--" another voice speaks up.
"Nature," Technico finishes when the speaker lets it trail off. "Yeah."
"You're an idiot," Mastermental says. "What in the world were you thinking, messing around with an Elemental hero?"
