Personally, I would think all the bloody, fresh meat of my mother’s diet would be enough to disgust anyone out of a coma.
Cheryl called out again. “We have to get going soon. Stefano’s expecting us at nine.”
My stomach grumbled, angry it would be missing another meal. It was distracted along with me, however, when Elysian said, “Ugh, I still can’t believe you took that stupid job. It’s already getting in the way of our mission.”
I gritted my teeth. There was just no end to the parade of irritation and idiots in my life. Between Elysian, the parentals, my brother, or the many minions of evil who want me dead or worse, I was beginning to think life was supposed to be hard.
But Cheryl was also right; the mayor, Stefano Mills, was nothing short of inspiring, and I hated the thought of letting him down or looking bad in front of him. And the sooner I got through work, the sooner I could meet with Gwen and Mikey to plan my birthday party. What could be better than getting a few hours in on the government’s dollar, and then getting coffee with my girlfriend and my best friend, discussing my upcoming birthday party?
I'd have to argue with Elysian another time; it was no doubt likely to happen anyway. “You're one lucky dragon, Elysian, or I'd make your species extinct. I’ve got to go.” With that remark, I hurried out the door and down the stairs.
“I don't believe in luck either!” Elysian called after me. “Besides,” he added, no doubt more for his measure than mine, “there's still my brother that you would have to contend with.”
Even though I was briefly intrigued, I shook my head. I let it go. After all, I had more important things to worry about and more interesting things to look forward to.
☼2☼
Work
There is something magical about getting paid money for a job you enjoy.
I smirked to myself as I finished the last paragraph for my English class homework. “That’s the last I’ll have to worry about your selfish monologue, Holden Caulfield,” I muttered, not surprised to find out he was just as miserable at the end as he had been in the beginning, and throughout the middle. If I’d been the one talking, I wouldn’t have worried at all about how to get through life. I would just live through it.
Glancing around, I found myself alone in my small cubicle. I was in charge of filing a lot of memos, court orders, records, and other things. Sometimes I would answer the phone for the city clerk, and once, when they were short, I got to sit in a meeting with Apollo City’s Sanitation Department and take notes on the meeting for the mayor. They also had free coffee.
Although, I sighed as I looked at my own half-empty cup, it was nothing compared to Rachel’s. I was glad I only had a few more minutes before I could leave. Then I would be able to get some real coffee, I thought to myself, once more cursing the government’s poor choice of blend.
In fact, I could probably skip out now, I thought. While I was watching the phone until the city clerk came back, it wasn’t like the city didn’t have voicemail.
It didn’t take me long to convince myself I was right. I dumped the tasteless coffee into the small kitchenette sink, before I picked up my briefcase and started to head out.
“Oh, Hamilton, is that you?”
I didn’t have to fake the smile I immediately put on my face, although the reflex was common enough when I thought I was going to get in trouble. “Mr. Mills.”
Apollo City’s new mayor had taken office at the beginning of the year, and while I was uncertain of working for the man leading the charge against Wingdinger and company, my unease had immediately been put to rest when I first met Stefano Mills.
He was a bit short and a bit round, but always impeccably dressed; I never saw him without a coffee mug in hand, including at press conferences. He had a salt and pepper beard, while his hair, though all still in place, was more black than gray. But what sold me on him was his kindness. He was always talking about helping the poor, getting more funds to the city schools, and raising awareness for those who were society’s outcasts. He was even seeking a pay cut to help redistribute some of the funding for the city budget and to help grow a program for at-risk juveniles.
It also helped that he told me in secret he wouldn’t get anything done if he wasn’t projecting an image completely set against Wingdinger and Starry Knight. I figured out after my “trial by file,” as I’d called it in a joke, that he was using a lot of the emergency funding to redistribute wealth in the city economy. I had to admire a man who found such an easy way around bureaucracy.
“Hamilton, please. Call me Stefano,” he said, adding a little laugh at the end, like we were old chums from Harvard or Oxford or something. “Are you heading out?”
“Uh, almost. I was just doing a walkthrough,” I said. I gave him my suck-up smile, still not wanting to get in trouble for heading out early. “I want to work in government one day, and this is a nice building.”
That sounded lame, even to me. But sometimes, you have to sound lame. Especially in politics, I reminded myself.
“I know. Your mother has told me you have ambition.” Stefano brushed his arm aside, beckoning my attention toward the row of pictures with the past councilmen and Apollo City mayors. “You keep up your good work and you’ll get on here one day, too.”
“I hope so,” I lied.
No, I didn’t really hope so. I wanted to move somewhere more important than Apollo City. It was a smaller city by many standards, and while we had some interesting tourist attractions, thanks to the city founder’s crazy stargazing superstitions, the main business in town was still shipping off Lake Erie’s marina.
“You’re able to stay on during the summer months coming up, right?” Stefano asked. “I was thinking of asking you to take on some more responsibilities this summer. You’ve been doing such a good job with all the filing and managing in the clerk’s office, not to mention your help with your mother’s case.” His warm brown eyes crinkled with what I suspected to be a paternal sort of pride, and I felt a reciprocated appreciation, although it was weird to think of him as a male, Latino version of Cheryl.
“It shouldn’t be a problem,” I lied again, as I thought of how much Elysian was going to flip.
Stefano leaned forward and whispered, “Between you and me, I think the city clerk’s getting concerned with how well you’ve been doing. He’s been stepping up his game since we brought you on last month.”
I laughed. “Cecil doesn’t have to worry. I have two more years of high school, and then college to worry about first.”
We started walking and chatting a bit on this and that while we headed for the exit. As nice as Stefano was, it wasn’t long before I hoped he would leave me alone. I wanted to go meet my friends. As easy as government work was for me, it was pretty boring. I wanted stimulation.
Loud, blaring noise broke out as I reached the front of the building. I frowned a bit at first, and then I remembered the protest was going on. I didn’t want that kind of stimulation.
“I can’t believe they haven’t gone home yet,” I muttered.
“Oh, there are some people who will protest anything,” Stefano assured me. “I’ve lost track of their exact demands, but I do hope they go home soon. It looks like the rain, while it stopped for a bit earlier, will start again soon. I wouldn’t want them to get sick.” He sighed and frowned, his eyes reflecting a true sadness for the people he was in charge of leading.
I decided not to say anything. Stefano was a nice guy, feeling sorry for the people who made his job harder. There had been a bunch of protesters coming up to City Hall’s porch trying to advocate for something that had to do with taxes, the media, and government regulation for some time now. I didn’t really care. There were between fifty and a hundred people out there, and I still didn’t know exactly what they were there for.
Most of them were probably incapable of doing anything but protesting for a better life. On some level, I did think Mayor Mills wasted sympathy on them. They should have just gone out and go
tten better jobs.
“You think the rain will come back?” I asked, looking up at the sky.
“Most certainly. I’ve lived here for a long time,” Stefano replied. He gave me a boyish grin and pointed in the direction of the marina. “I got my first job working at the docks in the North District when I was a teenager. Knowing the signs of coming change, especially potentially deadly change, is the mark of a conscientious worker.”
Don’t I know that. I nodded, but I appreciated the wisdom behind it. After all, change was coming. I could tell that myself. “Well, I’ll see you later this week.”
“Yes, please come in anytime you can.” Stefano flashed another smile in my direction. “It’s good to see some of the younger generation getting in on politics. It’s not an easy task, you know.” He shook my hand, and then said his goodbyes. “Have a good day, Hamilton. I’m actually late for a meeting with your mother at the moment.”
“Well, don’t keep her waiting. Even talking to me won’t get her off your back,” I said.
He laughed, and I smiled. Stefano had a full-bellied laugh, something like I would imagine Santa Claus having.
Still, as much as I liked the guy, I waited until he left my sight before I headed out the staff door. I didn’t want him to notice I was still cutting out about twenty minutes early from work. Not that I thought he’d have an issue with it anyway. He got along with Cheryl well, so he wouldn’t get very far crossing her. That more or less meant my job was safe. Mostly safe.
I managed to poke my way through the crowd of protesters and make it down the street in one piece. None of them really bothered me, but I couldn’t help thinking of ungrateful children, too upset to do anything until Mayor Mills, the city’s resident fairy godfather, came out to let them swarm around his head as they made incessant, unnecessary demands. Probably in their loudest voices, too, I thought with a smirk.
“You look happy. What are you thinking about?”
“Huh?” I looked up to see Gwen Kessler smiling over at me. She was sitting on a bench by the bus stop, relaxed and cheery, her auburn hair twisting in the small springtime breeze. “Oh, hi, Gwen. I almost didn’t see you there,” I said with a slight apology. Seeing the disappointed look on her face, I instantly added, “I was too busy thinking about you.”
“You were too busy thinking about me to notice me?” Gwen asked, a small smile playing on her lips.
I was just relieved she didn’t seem insulted anymore. “Yeah, you know it.” I laughed. “I’m looking forward to my party. You and Mikey have any good news for me today?”
“Rachel’s is our last stop,” she promised. “She’s good on the food, but we still need to order the cake.”
“I’m sure she’ll have something special for that. Jason mentioned she was looking to expand on her catering services.”
“That’s true,” Gwen agreed. “And I guess that makes sense. I heard Jason talking about trying to help her.”
“You mean helping to bake my cake?” I felt just a bit slightly horrified at the thought.
After a small giggle, as much at my expression as my expense, Gwen leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” she said. “I’m not sure, really.” Then she reached her hand out and took mine as we headed up the street.
I gave her a smile and squeezed her hand, thinking about how great Gwen was. She was kind, and she was smart, and she really cared about me.
I glanced over at her and took the sight in. Her dress, with the pretty flowers and bold colors, clashed charmingly with her hair, and while she wore some makeup, the growing heat of the oncoming summertime had smudged some of it off. I liked her like this. She was real.
She was real, she didn’t yell at me for being incompetent, and she didn’t think I was a glory-hog or a show-off or insecure or selfish. And she didn’t kiss me passionately in one moment and then break it off in the next, leaving me to wonder for weeks on end if she liked it or even remembered it.
That was why I liked Gwen.
I was about to compliment her again when a voice called out to us. “Hey guys!”
We looked over to see Mikey Salyards closing in on us from the other side of the block. Instantly, a sense of dread and anticipation drippled through me, but I squashed it down guilt as much as I could.
“Mikey!”
Mikey had been my best friend for a long time. He wasn’t just any friend, or one I had for more political than personal reasons. He was like a brother to me. Mikey even knew I was Wingdinger, and I didn’t feel the need to worry about him knowing.
That made me feel all the worse when it came to his dad. A few months ago, Mikey mentioned to me, very briefly and very tersely, that he knew his dad was back in town. And normally, that wouldn’t have bothered me at all. But since finding out in the most inconvenient way possible that his dad, Dante, was working with SWORD to track down me, Starry Knight, and the other Sinisters, I had refrained from letting Mikey know of just what had drawn his dad back to Apollo City.
Thankfully, SWORD didn’t seem to want Dante to connect with Mikey anyway. But I still felt weird about not telling Mikey.
Mikey joined us at last. “You guys are not going to believe it, but—”
My stomach clenched. There’s a good reason I don’t like surprises.
“—I got Kyle Lancaster’s band to sign up for live entertainment.”
I felt a long sigh of relief expel itself from my lungs as Mikey went on talking about the details, and Gwen interrupted him every so often, gushing about their music and asking about specific songs.
Even I had to admit, that was pretty cool. Kyle and his band, Caution: Hot Contents, had played a couple of the middle school dances and some of the seniors’ parties. How could I not like a band whose name was inspired by coffee cup warnings?
“So as long as they can play outside, I think we’ll be good to go.” Mikey turned to me. “Do you think it’ll be okay to have them outside, Dinger?”
“Uh, yeah. Shouldn’t be a problem,” I heard myself mutter. I squeezed Gwen’s hand again, recalling something important. “But they need to be out by ten,” I reminded him. “Everyone’s got to leave by ten o’clock.”
Mikey rolled his eyes. “Your mother’s curfew is ridiculous,” he grumbled.
“Yeah, it sucks, man,” I agreed, even though Cheryl didn’t have a problem with the party running later.
The truth was, I—or should I say Wingdinger—had somewhere else to be that night. And Elysian wouldn’t let me miss that particular meeting for the world. Even though I secretly, desperately wanted to be there, too.
“Well,” Gwen spoke up, “at least your mom didn’t tell you when the party had to start. We can just get the party started earlier to make sure there’s enough time for everyone.”
I grinned. “There’s a reason I like you, Gwen Kessler,” I schmoozed. “And it’s for that smart, sexy brain of yours.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mikey roll his eyes again. I let the matter go, especially since Gwen blushed, but also because we’d reached our intended destination.
Rachel’s Café was the small coffeehouse and bar I’d adopted as my main source of caffeine and my only consistent source of comfort. It was a small place, but it harbored a huge talent in Rachel Cole, the owner, manager, and main barista of the café.
She was working as we came in, and I could tell from the bright pink-and-white striped apron she had on that she had been baking recently. I could feel the anticipation inside of me start to bubble up like an opposite of heartburn. “Hi, Rachel!”
Rachel’s long red hair was braided back, and it whipped around as she turned toward us. “Oh, hey you guys! Go grab a seat. I know we’ve got a meeting.”
Mikey, Gwen, and I all headed over to a booth, one of our usual locations, and sat down.
While Gwen and Mikey began talking about their math class homework, I did a cursory glance around the room. A moment later, I relaxed. There was no
sign of any of Rachel’s crazy family members who, in their own ways, just made me feel uncomfortable. There was Grandpa Odd, Rachel’s senile-and-a-half grandfather, her male-bashing but desperately dating mother, Leticia-called-Letty, and her cousin Raiya, who was in my class and determined to make me mad every chance she had. It spoke volumes of my love for Rachel’s cooking and coffee that I still came anyway. All of them just made me cringe too much.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Rachel popped out of the kitchen with a tray in her hands. As she came around to our table, my anticipation turned into satisfaction. I could see she was bringing us cookies and cake samples.
“Now,” she began, “I understand you’d like a cake for your birthday, Hamilton.” She gestured toward the tray full of samples and a small plate of cookies. “Go ahead and see what you like best.”
“I’d eat anything if you made it, Rachel,” I assured her as I made a grab for the cookies, while Gwen and Mikey went for the slices of cake. While I was interested in the samples, it wasn’t often Rachel made the gingerbread chocolate chip cookies I liked. Ever since Christmas, I’d been hoping for another batch of them.
Rachel went through the various cake samples she’d made, as Mikey, Gwen, and I all sampled them. Rachel was prepared for the presentation, I noticed. From watching her, I thought it seemed like she’d taken a lot of time to prepare.
She introduced each flavor of cake with pomp and downplayed affection, more like they were her children than her baked goods. She told us what was in each of them, and I almost laughed at her several times, despite her care. I personally didn’t care if something was non-GMO, or organic, or homegrown. That was something my crazy, diet-obsessed mother might like, but not me. I just cared about taste. I was almost glad when some customers came in and Rachel had to go take care of them.
Submerging (The Starlight Chronicles Book 3) Page 2
