You Believe Her

by Richard Roberts

oofing off was easier when I could just call Ray or walk down to Claire’s house, but the point was to let things simmer for a few days, right?

  You know, low-key. Casual. Stay at home, play computer games.

  Which is why I completely blame Cassie for me and my gang slamming open the door to the church basement and rushing inside. Proof that it was Cassie’s fault is that she was the one who zapped blue arcs of electricity out of her arms like she was waving her wings and shouted, “This event, and all who would dare compete in it, are now the property of the Crown Princess of Middle School Crime, Bad Penny! All of Science is hers to command, so if you wish to compete with her superhuman technology, I will log your defeat now and save time.”

  Looking back over her shoulder at me, Cassie flashed a grin and asked, “Like that, right?”

  Marcia had a more down-to-earth question. “What is this place?”

  Physically, this was a church basement, a big room with concrete sides, not entirely underground but with little windows way up near the ceiling. As I have heard is the wont of such places, it was being used for an event. Rickety folding tables had been arranged with no visible rhyme or reason all around. Most of the tables had triangles of wood on them that formed long, slow slopes. One held blocks of wood, little wheels, and cutting tools, which had clearly been put to use by the majority of the room’s inhabitants. Kids roughly our age, or a little younger, stood in small clumps at every table, each holding a roughly built little wooden car. They had been racing those cars down the ramps. Now they all stared at us.

  The room also held three adults, two men hovering next to the dangerous tools on the building table, and a woman in the middle of the floor.

  The children nudged each other with elbows and whispered to their friends. The adults eyed us with more caution.

  We did make a sight, all in costume. My lab coat and striped-shirt, leather-pants steampunk girl outfit were definitely not civilian wear. Cassie had gone with the spandex bodysuit look, but a shinier material and with a lot of white and blue jagged lightning stripes. It looked high-tech without actually being tech at all. I liked Marcia’s outfit, even if it made my head swim to look at it. The black and white checkerboard pattern on the martial arts tunic wouldn’t have been too bad, but jarred eye-maddeningly with big yin/yang symbols on the front and back, which in turn were encircled by black and white snakes eating each other’s tails. Oh, and horizontal black-and-white striped tights, and sensible sneakers that, yes, were still black and white polka dotted. The rips of hard wear and multiple fights broke up the clashing patterns, and helped a bit.

  And bringing up the rear, Lucyfar, who had decided I should not be the only girl wearing a corset, but had opted to partner hers with black leather pants, multiple black leather spiked bracers on each arm, and special shoes that I had to admit looked cool and made her look like she was walking on hooves. She had enough superhuman strength not to snap her ankles doing that.

  Cassie provided explanations, waving her hand at all the kids. “It’s a box car derby!”

  Lucyfar furrowed her brow and frowned, a very obvious expression with the heavy mascara and black lipstick. “A what now?”

  Cassie groaned in frustration, rolling her head around. “It’s where kids our age build little cars and test them against each other in downhill races. What you see is what you get, diablo-brain. There are no hidden subtleties. How can you not know this?”

  Equally exasperated, Lucyfar sniped back, “We didn’t have box car races in England!”

  I gave her a suspicious sidelong look. “You said you were an ancient evil firstborn of the universe, and so on, and so on.”

  Crossing her arms, Lucyfar turned her frustrated glower on me. “Yes, and one of those claims is a lie. Or maybe I’m lying now and they’re both true.”

  Silence stretched for a moment, and when it became clear the argument wouldn’t continue, Cassie stepped up close to my shoulder. Tugging on my sleeve, she gave me a sheepish smile and said, “You’re trying to treat this all like supervillain camp, right? I thought nothing would make this a more legitimate camp experience than an arts and crafts day.”

  Grinning my gratitude, I pinched her arm back. “And nothing is more arts and crafts than a box car derby.”

  Our audience had just started to get restive as we carried on our private conversation. Cassie froze them again by raising a fist that crackled with lightning. “And now it’s an evil box car derby!”

  Lucyfar raised her hand, her irritation vanished in a sly grin. “All in favor of an evil box car derby?”

  Arms shot up everywhere. The kids looked around, saw that an overwhelming majority agreed, and let out whoops of excitement. Thumping footsteps echoed around the basement as they stampeded to grab paint and markers and blue to draw skulls on their cars, or fix little spikes on the surface.

  Lucy swept over into the middle of them, asking, “Who wants actual demonic sigils engraved on their car?”

  That got another cheer.

  Marcia, Cassie, and myself wandered over to the table where basic construction was done, although from the minimal amount of shavings and debris it was clear almost all the kids had built theirs at home. The adults just watched. They’d relaxed considerably now that our intentions were clear.

  I looked at the diagrams of cars, and instructions about painting lines so you’d cut right. “This could take hours, and without my super power, I don’t have any advantage over any of these other kids. You know that, right?”

  Cassie clasped her hands behind her, and watched me with a smug, expectant smile. That girl thought I was superhuman, not just someone with powers. Marcia, who did not worship me, picked up a chisel and started hacking away at a block. I was pretty sure that why ever a chisel was here, this was not the purpose. Nobody seemed in a hurry to stop her.

  I regarded the pile of parts. Okay, forget it. Time to do it the supervillain way—cheat! Cupping my hands to my mouth, I shouted over the hubbub, “Hey! Who’s winning?”

  After a few seconds of milling around, a boy held up his car. The kids around him nodded.

  I unwound the Machine, and set him on top of a block of wood. “Duplicate his car.”

  That seemed to be direction enough. He scarfed down the wooden block, bite by bite, and then vomited it back up as a simple wooden car. Completely wooden. Other cars had plastic wheels and metal axles, but I’d given the Machine one material to work with, so that’s what he used.

  A faint sheen caught my eye. I rubbed the axles where they passed through loops on the car’s base. Lubricant, made out of something in the wood. Was that why the other kid was winning?

  Cassie absolutely beamed. Her faith in me had been rewarded. She looked like she might float right off the floor.

  Marcia, on the other hand… well, criminy. Marcia could sculpt. She’d hacked a pretty good car shape, more complex and rounded than the example, out of the block. The process did involve a lot of angry scowling and fiercely focused eyes. She got more into the process with every second, until her teeth bared in a grimace. When her chisel hit the wood next, black burst out like a cloud, and the wood cracked.

  Letting out a shriek of rage, Marcia punched the table, smashing it into bits and sending tools flying. Black knives appeared out of the air to catch all the sharp or heavy items, despite Lucyfar being huddled over a racing table with no sign she’d even noticed Marcia’s outburst.

  Nobody else was in any hurry to intervene, which left the job of scolding Marcia to me. Of course. “Criminy, Ouroboros. That was not okay. Beating up other people with super powers is fine, but you can’t go around breaking people’s stuff.”

  Marcia whirled around to face me, open-mouthed, aghast rather than angry. “You leave a trail of rubble and devastation wherever you go.”

  I pointed at the contestants, who were drifting back to their racing after the shock of Marcia’s outburst. “Yes, but not at an event for kids!”

  She glowered at me, then let out
an explosive, shoulder-slumped sigh. The slump was totally to get revenge by taunting me with my lack of proper shoulders. Evil wench. I hadn’t even been able to tell her garish monochrome tunic had pockets, but she pulled a wallet out of one of them, pulled a wad of bills out of it, and tossed them to one of the men who had been overseeing the table. “Fine. You’re right, like always.”

  She didn’t even glance at the bills. The ones I could see were hundreds. A reminder that Marcia wasn’t just rich. My parents were doing quite well for themselves. I bet Misty Lutra had millions in the bank somewhere. No, Marcia was stupid rich, ‘billionaire’ rich. Why had a family that loaded sent their daughter to a public middle school? Even if it was a magnet school?

  To show off to the other superhero parents how perfect the Original’s daughter was, of course.

  Cassie interrupted my brooding by giving my lab coat’s cuff a little tug. Meekly, she asked, “Can we get back to the fun? I just don’t have a lot of time. I told Ruth I was going to see Penny, and I didn’t tell her which Penny, so I need to get back to where I can claim it was, uh…”

  “Meatbag Penny,” I filled in, amused again.

  “…when big sister buzzkill comes to get me.”

  “Do you have to go now?” I asked, touching her arm sympathetically.

  She shook her head. “No, soft and squeezable Penny is covering for me. She was pretty mad you defeated her super power enhancing trick, but she still likes you. I just can’t afford to waste time. We need to pack every second with maximum crafts.”

  My all-wood car was somewhere in the mess Marcia made, but I hadn’t cared about it anyway. A different thought got my attention. I leaned closer to Cassie, giving her a lazy, evil smile. “If we’re building things, you’re the only actual mad scientist here.”

  Her eyes got very, very wide. I pulled back and straightened up, to keep her from having a heart attack. How could anyone have a crush on me like that? It made no sense. With this power, I would have to take on great responsibility. Determined to use it only for her good, I gave her a finger poke. “You. Mad science it up.”

  She shook her head, waving her hands and even retreating a couple of steps. Her cheeks had turned so pink they were almost red. “I’m not really a mad scientist. All I can make are dumb little enhancements for my powers! You know that!”

  “It counts, which means…” I ticked them off on my fingers. “Electricity, magnetic fields, mad science support… criminy, you have three different super powers, Cassie. Four, if those wisp things count as separate. You’re talent city. Show us what you can do.”

  More head shaking. “I need wires and batteries and simple electronics parts. Not wood. I didn’t bring anything. Usually I just work in Ruth’s garage.”

  We had already drawn a lot of attention, as discussions of people’s super powers tended to. Now Claire stepped out between us and the crowd, and asked, “Who here is willing to contribute, and I quote, ‘wires and batteries and simple electronics parts’ so we can get a demonstration of mad science?”

  Chatter burst out everywhere. Kids pushed each other and argued. A ginger-haired girl declared, “I have a broken fan I brought with me. Don’t look at me like that, Joaquin, I have reasons.”

  Another boy held up his hand. “Do the batteries need to be charged?”

  Leaving Cassie to field those questions, I turned my attention to more important matters. Namely, grabbing Claire’s hands and squeeing. “E-Claire. When did you get here? How did you get here?”

  She was also in her supervillain identity. In Claire’s case, that meant a pair of denim overalls with a skirt puffed out by crinoline petticoats rather than shorts. Knee-high striped socks bulged where they fit into her sneakers, suggesting bandages still wrapping her feet. A burgundy-and-white short-sleeved shirt with starched shoulder poufs added to the ‘cute farm girl’ look, although being Claire, she had the buttons unfastened down her chest farther than any other fourteen-year-old girl could get away with, or would dare. Just in case anyone thought the look was accidental, she’d pinned a big plastic button into her pale blonde hair, with a wickedly grinning black and red version of a smiley face on it.

  “As for when, I’ve been here nearly five minutes. It was good stealth training, staying behind the one person I couldn’t block from noticing me with my powers. As for how, let’s just say a little birdy told me.” She made eye motions at Cassie.

  Grabbing Cassie from behind, I yanked her into a giddy hug, rocking her from side to side. “Thank you thank you thank you! This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me.” Especially since it meant much less attention from me. Cassie had knowingly sacrificed time with me so I could reconnect with my best friend I’d missed so badly. My steel heart felt like it would jam with warm, gooey gratitude.

  In response, Cassie wheezed. Oops. My robot arms were kinda strong. After I eased up on the hug, she turned hot pink again, and shuffled her feet, head tilting around as she couldn’t meet my gaze. But boy, that goofy, happy grin. “I, uh… I mean…”

  I hooked my elbow into Claire’s, but kept my attention on Cassie. Poking my blue-haired fangirl’s shoulder, I said, “You know what power I’ve never gotten to see you use? How do you make one of those wisps?”

  Claire crushed her shoulder against mine, beaming at Cassie. “That sounds fantastically cool. Is there anyone here who doesn’t want to see our friend Arc Flash create a living lightning creature?”

  The adults looked horrified. They did not want to see it. Their caution was drowned out by the enthusiastic roars of the contestants. The ones who had spare electronic parts surged forward to offer them to Cassie.

  Leaning even closer, I murmured into Claire’s ear, “Arc Flash?”

  “I made it up just now.” Oh, how I’d missed that unruffled, smugly shame-free voice.

  “And of course, you’re dying to see how Cassie’s power works,” I said to my superhero geek best friend.

  Then I added two and two together, and gave Claire a suspicious sidelong stare. “You’re eating up having two of me, one a robot double and the other an evil twin, aren’t you? This was on your list of life goals. It was. It totally was.”

  She coughed into her fist, but her glow of satisfaction destroyed that pathetic attempt to pretend she felt guilty. She further confirmed my suspicions by changing the subject. “You want to see Cassie make a wisp half as much as I do.”

  That sounded about right, yes.

  Cassie, meanwhile, was dealing with a sudden influx of fans of her own. As they shoved electronic parts at her, she took a step back, taking only one tiny battery from the smallest child in the crowd. “No. No! I’m only going to do this with a AAA battery. A big wisp would last too long. This is just for demonstration purposes. I’ve already committed my villainy for today by taking over this derby. I don’t need to burn it down. Now, give me room.”

  They did, forming a broad circle around her as Cassie put the little battery on one of the racing tables. I elbowed my way to the front, because maybe I was a little curious. Claire slipped in on my wake.

  “This is not impressive to watch, guys.” Cassie hunched her head down, flustered and guilty, and looking just far enough away from me that I bet I was at the edge of her peripheral vision. Holding up one hand, she spread her fingers, then curled them, as if holding an invisible globe. Blue-white lines flickered between her fingers and palm. They joined together and parted like running water, until a knot formed and stayed, with all new arcs connecting into it. The effect reminded me of a novelty plasma lamp.

  Some threshold passed that only Cassie could detect. She clenched her fist tight around the knot of electricity, and lowered her now-glowing hand to the AAA battery standing upright on the table. As she eased her grip over the metal cylinder, the light faded.

  That was it, for the moment. Cassie shook out her hands, then rubbed them together, kneading and massaging. Looking extra nervous, her head darting towards me but not quite at, she held out her h
and, palm flat and pointed down. She touched the center to the button on positive terminal of the battery, and lifted.

  Out of the battery rose a little spark, twinkling and jerking. Cassie pulled her hand away entirely, and it floated by itself over the table.

  Applause thundered around the basement. I noticed the three adults at the back of the crowd smiling. Why, those devious so-and-sos. They’d pretended to disapprove while not doing anything, so the kids would get a show.

  Claire leaned her head to my shoulder for more whispering. “You know what’s sad? You don’t know the real Cassie. She desperately wants you to, and then when she sees you in person, that all breaks down and she either gushes or acts cool. She held on okay while we were at school, because she didn’t want to get in Ray’s way, but now there’s two of you and only one of him.”

  “I like her, but…” I flapped a hand, not sure how to finish that.

  Claire nodded, understanding.

  With a tight, wry smile, I added, “When she talks about other people’s relationships, it’s like she’s a grownup. She only goes to pieces over me.”

  “That’s because she thinks you’re the coolest person in the world.”

  I really didn’t know what to say to that.

  A lot of other kids now thought Cassie was the coolest person in the world. She wore the stiff, awkward smile I put on when I got happily embarrassed. Her hair, not just blue but luminescent, stuck straight up off her head. Children oohed and jabbered questions that all ran together as her itty bitty wisp floated around her hands in a figure eight.

  Lucyfar’s strident voice interrupted Cassie’s moment of fame. “You cheating cheaty little cheater!”

  Cassie jumped in shock. The wisp disappeared. Kids scattered to watch the new show.

  I stormed forward, to find Lucyfar, quivering in outrage, point a finger at a pudgy, pale, blond boy maybe a year younger than me. He leaned back against a table, clutching his wooden car to his chest, eyes wide and intimidated, although at least not terrified.

  I gave a loud sigh to catch her attention. “Aren’t you a little old to be accusing random children of cheating?”