The Phobia of Renegade X

by Chelsea M. Campbell

  “Don’t even say that, Kat.”

  “But if it had, that wouldn’t have been your fault, either.”

  “I… I don’t know how to feel that way. I don’t know how to let go of all this. And if I’d just stayed away from Grandpa and the Truth, then all that stuff at the gala wouldn’t have happened. Riley wouldn’t have gotten hurt, and we’d still like fieldwork, and I wouldn’t be… you know.”

  “You were like this before the gala, though. You’ve never been a team player.”

  “What does that mean?” And why does she say that like it’s a bad thing?

  “You always call all the shots. Like when you got in trouble for zapping that superhero last semester.”

  “I thought he was a murderer.”

  “I know, and I get why you zapped him, but when you told me about it, you said Riley told you not to do it. But you didn’t listen to him.”

  “So?”

  “So, you probably didn’t even think about listening to him. You always have to be in control.”

  “I don’t… I don’t always.”

  “Damien, I know you, and yes, you do. You know you do. You and Riley were supposed to be partners, but you didn’t let him have a say in anything.”

  “Well, I mean, when he agreed with me I did.”

  “Uh-huh. You made yourself in charge of everything, just like you’re making yourself in charge of whether or not anybody else gets hurt. But none of that is your job. You’re not supposed to call all the shots, and you’re not supposed to take all of the risks. We all have different skills and abilities, and we all have to look out for each other and share the danger. That’s what makes us a team. But you taking everything on yourself and thinking you’d somehow rather take a knife to the chest than let me get hurt at all isn’t helping anyone. It’s just driving you crazy. You can’t control everything.”

  “I can try.”

  “But you shouldn’t. And even if you quit being a hero, it’s not going to solve anything, because you’ll still be making the same mistakes.”

  “But at least no one else will get hurt.”

  “That’s not true. You can’t control what happens to everyone, and either way, you’ll get hurt. And I don’t want that for you. Nobody does.”

  Chapter 37

  IT’S THE MIDDLE OF the afternoon the next day, and I’m sitting on my bed, staring at my phone. Specifically at the GCU website, because maybe after another five emails Sarah kind of got to me. Or at least made me curious, because I still don’t think I would get in or that going there really sounds like me. But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, as far as settling goes, because at least then I wouldn’t be alone. Not that me and Sarah would end up having a lot of the same classes, but still. And if I’m going to have a normal job, maybe I should aim slightly higher than gas-station attendant or waiter in a polyester cape.

  Actually, when I mentioned that to Sarah, she pointed out that I’m probably the last person anyone would want working at a gas station, what with my tendency to go all electric, and that I’d probably end up blowing the whole place up. So I guess that just leaves the diner option.

  The website shows lots of pictures of really happy students smiling into the camera while looking up from their textbooks or lounging on the grass with their friends. The sun is shining and the lighting is perfect and everybody looks like they’re having fun and not worrying about what they’re going to do with their lives.

  I hate to admit it, but it looks kind of nice. I try to picture myself there, meeting up with Sarah to do homework and inviting everyone over for movie nights. Everyone probably meaning Kat and Riley, who will most likely be too busy with their villain and hero careers, two things I really, really wanted to have at some point but gave up on. Not that I’ll resent them for it or anything, but I’m pretty sure that when they talk about moving on with their lives and getting cool jobs and stuff that I will feel left out.

  But that’s going to happen anyway, so wouldn’t I at least like to be able to pretend I’ve got something figured out when it does? Wouldn’t I like to be able to say, “Hey, will you guys shut up about all the exciting missions you’ve been going on, because I have all this Business Finance homework to do?”

  Ugh. On second thought, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t want to be able to say that.

  And I can’t really picture myself doing homework with Sarah, since hers will probably involve building robots and doing lots of crazy math or something, and mine will involve… Well, not that. And it’s one thing for all these students in the photos to look so happy—besides probably being models who are getting paid for it—because they’re not the Crimson Flash’s delinquent half-villain son the whole city knows about. Nobody’s seen videos of them blowing up the gym at Heroesworth, and nobody blames them for letting some criminal wreak havoc on the city with that fear ray. Not that Frank’s actually wreaking havoc with it yet, or at least not that anybody knows about, but it’s only a matter of time. And either way, everyone’s terrified at just the idea, which is bad enough. And if I went to that school, everyone would know who I was, and they’d know that once upon a time I was trying to be a hero but couldn’t cut it. They’d look at me with contempt or at best feel sorry for me, which isn’t really any better.

  I mean, that would still be a step above how people treat me at Heroesworth, so that’s something, I guess.

  And maybe it wouldn’t go that way at all. Maybe nobody would care who I was or how many videos of me they’d seen on YouTube. And maybe my friends wouldn’t be too busy for me, and I wouldn’t even care if they were moving forward with their lives because I would be, too. Maybe.

  But then I scroll through the list of majors, and I get this horrible sinking feeling, because I know my heart wouldn’t be in any of these.

  A knock on my door startles me. I didn’t realize anybody was home, since Amelia’s over at Zach’s and it’s too early for anybody else. Then Gordon says, “Damien?”

  I could pretend I’m not here. I could tell him to go away and hope he actually listens. But instead I put my phone away and tell him to come in, because we might as well get this over with.

  “We need to talk,” Gordon says. He paces across the room a couple times, not even watching out for the creaky boards, which makes my stomach lurch a little bit. He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a deep breath. Then he sits down next to me on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands.

  He doesn’t say anything right away, and every second of silence makes me feel more and more like I can’t breathe. I sit up, bracing myself. “Dad, just say it already.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Seriously? He must have come home early from work just so he could corner me, and now he doesn’t know what to say? “Let me make it easy for you. I screwed up, the whole city hates me, and on top of that you’re disappointed in me for deciding to quit. And you’re going to say you’re—”

  “Damien, I’m not disappointed in you.”

  “—not disappointed in me, but we both know you are, so. I was going to say don’t bother, but you already did.”

  “I’m not disappointed in you.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him. His shoulders are hunched, his mouth is turned down, and if I had to suggest a photo definition for the word disappointed, this would be it. “You don’t exactly look happy or anything.”

  “Of course I’m not happy. All of this, everything that’s been going on, it’s just so…” He trails off, apparently still not able to say it. Then he changes his mind and adds, “It’s just so hard to deal with.”

  I swallow. I’m hard to deal with. That’s what he just said, or it’s what he meant, at least. “Okay. Great.”

  “Damien—”

  “No, I get it. I screwed up, and I deserve whatever you’re about to say to me. And it’s obvious that you are disappointed—we both know you are—so just admit it.”

  “I am,” he says
, his voice quiet and full of shame.

  And now that he’s said it, I wish he hadn’t. I wish I hadn’t just made him do that, because knowing it was one thing, but hearing it is so much worse. I pull my knees up, hugging them to my chest and wishing I could disappear.

  “But not with you,” Gordon says. “I’m disappointed in myself.”

  “What?”

  He spreads his hands out. “I feel like I’ve failed you as a father.”

  “Um, what?”

  “I wanted you to follow in my footsteps. I hoped, anyway. And I know that’s part of why you went to Heroesworth in the first place.”

  “It was my choice. I wanted to go. And I told you before, that wasn’t why.”

  He gives me a side look, like he doesn’t quite buy that. “I wanted you to do the same things I did. I wanted us to share those experiences, and… for you to be like me.”

  “Dad—”

  “But you’re not. And your life isn’t like mine. And I should have realized that sooner.” He scratches the side of his face, looking kind of guilty. “We’re different people, and that’s okay. But I wanted certain things for you, and they didn’t work out. I watched how hard you struggled with going to Heroesworth and how hard you tried to keep up with everything that was happening to you, and I didn’t do anything about it.”

  “There wasn’t anything you could have done. And none of it had anything to do with you.”

  “I could have been there for you.”

  “You were.” Mostly.

  “I hate that there’s nothing I can say to help you. You’ve been going through something awful, and I wish I could fix it, but I can’t. I don’t even know what to say.”

  “So?” It’s my problem, and I don’t remember asking him to fix it, whatever that even means.

  “My father always used to know what to say.”

  I scoff and lean back against my pillows. “Your dad’s a douchebag. I bet he said stupid crap to you like buck up and win one for the team.”

  One side of Gordon’s mouth turns up in a smile. “You’re too young to realize I don’t have all the answers.”

  Is he serious right now? “I hate to break this to you, but I’ve known that since the moment we met. I never expected anything like that from you, so don’t worry about it.”

  He winces. He looks like he’s about to say something to that, then hesitates.

  I decide to change the subject. “I’ve been looking at GCU. Sarah thinks I can get in.” I say that too fast, like I’m not that comfortable with the idea, which is true, and like I’m terrified of what he might say next if left to his own devices, which is also true.

  Gordon nods. There’s a pained expression on his face, as if someone just kicked him in the shins and he’s trying not to show it. “So. Business, huh?”

  “I prefer film studies.”

  “That’s… great. I’m happy for you, that you have something to work towards.” But he says that like he’s eating sawdust and telling me how wonderful it tastes.

  “I lied.” Maybe it’s because I feel sorry for him, or maybe it’s because the words felt wrong coming out of my mouth, but I suddenly really need him to know the truth.

  “What?”

  “I’m not thinking about film studies. Or business or whatever. I… I’m not going to college.”

  “You could,” he says. “You’re a smart kid. If you want to go—”

  “I don’t. It’s just something that Sarah said, and I thought…” I shrug. “It doesn’t matter, because I looked at the list of majors and I thought about the careers I could have, and I’m not interested in any of them.” None of them feel even remotely right. I know deep down that they don’t. “But the one thing I was interested in stopped being fun for me, like, months ago. And then I failed the flying test, and I failed Advanced Heroism, and the whole city hates me, and on top of that, my friends are disappointed in me. Kat and Sarah are, anyway. And Amelia. I mean, Kat says she’s not, but I feel like she is.” And like even if she really isn’t, she probably should be. “And me and Riley were supposed to be partners, and now we’re not. I’m not going to work with him and Sarah, and everything’s falling apart. Maybe I’m making a stupid decision, but I just couldn’t do it anymore. And giving up all of that isn’t easy. Quitting Heroesworth—really quitting—is hard. When I was going there, I had no idea what my future would be, and it was kind of terrifying, but at least I had a direction. I was aiming toward something, even if I didn’t know what it was. Now I just have nothing.”

  Gordon takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. Finally, he says, “You don’t have to have anything figured out. Actually, I’m kind of glad you don’t.”

  “What if I never figure it out, though? What if I never find anything that makes me happy like fieldwork did?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? What kind of stupid answer is that? You’re supposed to say that of course I’ll find something else.”

  “I can’t promise you that, because I really don’t know. But you’ll be okay.” He clears his throat real quick, then says, “Ted told me about the flying test.”

  My whole body tenses up when he mentions Ted’s name. I kind of hoped we wouldn’t have to talk about this. “He was lying. Whatever he told you, it wasn’t true.”

  “Damien, he said you weren’t nearly as bad as he thought you would be. I know how that sounds, but it’s high praise coming from him. Especially given… the situation.”

  The situation being that Ted hates me, he means. “But I still failed.”

  “But I’m still really proud of you.”

  “For flying?” Hopefully he won’t ask how I learned. I think he’s the one person on the planet Amelia hasn’t blabbed to.

  “For trying so hard at something that was so difficult for you. If you can do that, then you can do anything, and I know I don’t need to worry about you. Things might be hard now, but you’ll figure it out. You always do.”

  “Everything’s falling apart.”

  “Not everything. You still have your family and your friends. Everyone cares about you because of who you are, not because of what you’re doing with your life.”

  But I thought being a hero, or even being a villain, was a big part of who I was. I glance down at the X on my thumb, wishing it could tell me what to do.

  Then Gordon says, “Listen, Damien, about what you were saying earlier… about not expecting things like that from me—”

  “It’s fine. I wasn’t trying to get at anything.”

  “You’re my son. I want you to expect things from me. Even if it’s unreasonable, like that I have all the answers.”

  “I think I made it clear that I know that you don’t. Besides, I’m not a little kid. I don’t need that.”

  “When you said you didn’t expect anything like that from me, you meant you don’t expect me to be your father.”

  He looks me in the eyes as he says that, and I feel sick. I look away. At the bedspread, at the ceiling, at my Superstar poster on the wall. My mind races, trying to come up with excuses for why I can’t be here right now or for why he needs to leave, but I can’t think of anything. “I didn’t… I told you, don’t worry about it.”

  “I know I missed out on most of your life, and that means there are some things we can’t get back. I never tucked you in at night or taught you to ride a bike. I don’t know what your favorite bedtime stories were or when you lost your first tooth. I don’t even know what you looked like.”

  “Mom has pictures,” I mumble. If she hasn’t gotten rid of them to make room for ones of Xavier. My grandparents would still have some, though.

  “That’s not my point. I never got to protect you from the monsters under your bed.”

  “I didn’t need protection from them. I set up traps.” At least until Mom stepped on one. Then I never heard the end of it. “And just because you weren’t there doesn’t mean I was alone. I had Mom. I had Grandma and Grandpa. I di
dn’t need anyone else.” And now that they’ve all betrayed me, I don’t need them, either. “I wasn’t sitting around wondering where you were, and you didn’t even know I existed. You don’t owe me anything. You don’t have to try and fix my problems or say stuff to make me feel better.”

  “Yes, I do. You’re my son.”

  “Yeah, but… I can take care of myself.”

  “I wish you felt like you could rely on me.”

  “I don’t know why you want that.” I don’t know why he can’t just be happy with how things are. He gets to buy me food and clothes and stuff and feel like he’s taking care of me, and I don’t ask for anything difficult or complicated. Most of the time, anyway. Unless I screw up. And even then, I try to keep it to the minimum.

  “You don’t know why I want that,” he repeats, sounding numb.

  I don’t say anything.

  “Okay,” Gordon says. “Obviously you have a lot to think about. With everything that’s going on. I’ll just… I’ll leave you alone.” He gets up to go, then hesitates.

  I hold my breath, afraid he’s going to change his mind and stay. Afraid he’s going to say something he can’t take back. Or worse, that I will.

  But then his shoulders deflate, and if he was considering saying something else, he doesn’t. He just leaves.

  Chapter 38

  “I DON’T WANT TO talk to you,” Amelia says. At least I think that’s what she says—it’s kind of hard to understand her, since she’s crying so hard. She also kind of says it into her pillow, which she’s currently squeezing the life out of.

  I’m standing in her doorway. She just got home from hanging out with Zach, and I heard her stomp her way up the stairs like she couldn’t get to her room fast enough. Then she sent me a text that said, I hope you’re happy. Me and Zach broke up again, just like you wanted. “If you didn’t want to talk to me, why did you text me?”

  “Because. You didn’t want us to be together, and now you got your wish. So just close the door and go away.”