The Rivalry of Renegade X

by Chelsea M. Campbell

  The woman’s eyebrows come together. “From what?”

  “Themselves,” Sarah says. “And from hot coffee.”

  The woman gives her a pitying look. “Nobody needs to be that safe. My advice for next year? Loosen up a little.”

  “Uh,” Amelia says, giving me her snottiest look, “what do you think you’re doing?”

  “Going to the movies with my girlfriend.” Which I think is pretty obvious, all things considered. I mean, I’m standing by the front door with Kat, and we both have our shoes on and everything, like we’re about to leave. Except, you know, we’re waiting for Amelia.

  Amelia scoffs and folds her arms, giving me a pitying, amused sort of look. “You’re not coming with us.”

  “I invited him,” Kat says.

  “What?” Amelia gapes at her like she’s insane. “Why?!”

  “Because I’m awesome?” I offer.

  “Because he’s my boyfriend.” Kat says that like it should be obvious to her, which it really should be. “The three of us watch movies together all the time.”

  “Wha… I wouldn’t say all the time,” I correct her. “Just occasionally.” We sometimes watch movies with Amelia. On a very rare basis. One that’s been getting somewhat more frequent, but still not something I’d call all the time. That might sound like we’re actually friends with Amelia, or that we actually like hanging out with her or something, which obviously we don’t.

  “But we’re going to see a rom-com,” Amelia whines. “That’s for girls.”

  “First of all,” I tell her, “that’s really sexist of you. And second, that’s not what you said when you wanted me to watch one with you last week.”

  “That was different. I didn’t have anybody else to watch it with.”

  “Wonderful. So I was your last choice. I feel so used.”

  She glares at me. “This was supposed to just be me and Kat. I don’t want you ruining it.”

  I put a hand to my chest. “How could me being there possibly ruin it?”

  “I don’t know, but you’ll find some way to screw it up, just like how you ruined the family barbecue. I only got to talk to Nolan and Devon for, like, five seconds before we had to come home. I was going to show them our latest dance video.”

  “Everyone’s seen it already.”

  “For your information, lots of people haven’t, because we only have two hundred views, and a lot of those are us rewatching it.”

  “Hey,” Kat says, checking her phone, “we’re going to miss the movie if we don’t hurry up.”

  “You’re right,” Amelia says, “me and you should get going.”

  I laugh a little, just under my breath, because she’s being so ridiculous. “Sorry, Amelia, but this is a losing battle. Kat’s not going to leave me behind.”

  “Actually…” Kat looks nervous and gets kind of fidgety all of a sudden. “I don’t want to be in the middle of this.”

  “You’re not. Because you’re on my side.”

  She clears her throat. “Well, I did make plans with Amelia first, and if she really doesn’t want you to go…”

  “Kat! I can’t believe this.”

  Amelia gets a really smug look on her face and just smirks at me.

  Kat cringes. “Sorry, Damien. I told you I didn’t want to be in the middle.”

  Amelia takes a deep breath and makes a big deal of letting it out slowly. “Wellll,” she says, drawing it out, “maybe you could come with us. If you promise to be in my next dance video.”

  “I have three words for that, Amelia. Oh, hell no. Not in a million years. Not even if Kat gets down on her knees and begs me to do anything I possibly can to come to the movies with you guys.”

  “That’s a lot more than three words,” Amelia mutters.

  “Damien.” Kat elbows me. “I’m not going to do that.”

  “But if you were thinking about it, don’t, because it’s not going to work. And,” I say, addressing Amelia again, “if you’re so worried about me ruining everything, why would you even want me in it?”

  “For our next video, we were thinking we’d have someone trying to follow along with our dance moves, but, like, they can’t actually do it and keep getting them all wrong.”

  “Uh-huh. So you want me to screw it up. And look like a complete idiot.”

  “Just until the end, when we notice and really generously stop what we’re doing to break it down for you.”

  “Yeah, not doing it. Ask someone else.”

  “I’m not asking you. I’m making a deal with you. And we already asked Riley, and he said no.”

  “Gee, you mean he didn’t want to look like an idiot in your video, either?”

  She scowls at me and folds her arms across her chest. “We weren’t going to make him look like an idiot. We were going to let him just get it wrong at first and then figure out the moves right away so he could join us. But since it’s going to be you instead, we—”

  “It’s not going to be me. And why do I have to look stupid, but Perkins doesn’t?”

  Amelia shrugs. “He’s taller than you.”

  “So?”

  “And a lot better looking.”

  I gape at her.

  Kat laughs, like that’s even a little bit funny. “Come on. We’d better get going.”

  Amelia stands in front of me, blocking my path to the door. “Are you going to be in the video?”

  “Uh, I already told you, there’s no way in hell you’ll ever get me to be in one of your stupid dance videos. Especially not now.”

  “Fine,” Amelia says, turning to leave. “Then I guess we’re going without you.”

  Chapter 5

  “I WATCHED, LIKE, A dozen tutorials, and I still can’t get this right,” Kat says, messing with her hair in front of the mirror in the upstairs bathroom at her house Wednesday evening.

  “It looks fine,” I tell her.

  “Damien, it does not look fine. This side braid is super uneven.”

  “Just use your power to fix it. Poetry night starts in…” I check my phone real quick. “…twenty minutes.”

  “We’ll make it. Besides, you’re the one who takes forever on the stairs—I’m not the reason we’re going to be late. And the last time I shapeshifted my hair because I couldn’t get it right, this girl asked me if I could do hers, too, and I had to tell her I didn’t actually know how, and I felt like a fraud.”

  “So? Maybe you had someone else do your hair for you. She didn’t know that.”

  “I guess, but I still knew.” She sighs and stops fiddling with her braid and just shapeshifts it to match the picture on her phone.

  “Great. And now—”

  A loud burst of laughter downstairs interrupts me. Kat’s parents have a guest over—one who’s apparently hilarious, since this keeps happening every so often.

  Kat rolls her eyes. “Let’s go.”

  “Ahem.” I clear my throat and gesture to her outfit. “Are you seriously leaving the house like that?”

  She glances down at the T-shirt and shorts she’s wearing, then at the jacket and tie that I’ve got on. “I don’t have time to change. Besides, it’s just a coffee shop, isn’t it?”

  “But the point is to look sophisticated and like we take this stuff really seriously. So that when one of us inevitably starts laughing, it will be that much more meaningful.”

  Kat grins. “You’re going to be the one to laugh first, and when you lose, you’re buying me dinner at that new seafood restaurant that just opened up.”

  “You mean the super fancy one we haven’t been kicked out of yet?”

  “That’s the one. And I’m going to order everything on the menu, so be ready.”

  “All the more reason to dress up. And also, I thought we agreed on the diner?” Something I can actually, you know, afford, though maybe not if she actually orders that much.

  “Shouldn’t it be winner’s choice?”

  “Fine, but when I win, we’re going to an even fancier resta
urant, and I’m ordering two of everything, even the stuff I don’t like.”

  “Fine.” She shapeshifts again so she’s wearing a red evening gown, then raises an eyebrow at me. “Race you down the stairs?”

  “Ha ha. You’ve only made that joke a million times.”

  “And you’ve only lost a million times.”

  “I’d have to actually accept first for that. And no one should be racing on the stairs, anyway, because that’s just asking for trouble.”

  “Damien. You can fly. And I thought after you found out what your mom did that you’d be…” She hesitates and bites her lip, like she doesn’t want to say it.

  “Less afraid?” I say, finishing that thought for her. “I’m working on it.” Ever since I found out my mom’s the reason for my debilitating fear of heights—that she purposely implanted it in me to control me, the same way she’s been implanting fake memories in Xavier—I’ve been trying to ignore it, but that’s easier said than done.

  Kat sighs. “I guess it’s okay if we miss the first performer. I mean, they’ll probably just be reading a haiku about a bad breakup. Or maybe a long, free-form poem about the weather that they’ll read super passionately. They probably won’t get all worked up about it and end up in tears like that one guy who was there last time. We won’t be missing anything.”

  “Erg. You know how much I love all those things.”

  “Then get a move on.” She gestures toward the stairs.

  I roll my eyes, but I do what she says. We make our way down the stairs—me, slowly and carefully, and her, pretty much running down them, despite my warnings and despite the shoes she’s wearing, which have a slight heel. I cringe, unable to help picturing her falling to her death, but I try and push that thought out of my mind, telling myself that my fear’s not real. It’s completely irrational.

  But it was always irrational—or at least that’s what everybody’s always told me—so I’m not sure if that really changes anything.

  “Oh, Kat!” her mom says, meeting her at the bottom of the stairs. She’s smiling and just came from the dining room, where they’ve been laughing it up with their guest. “Are you two…” She glances at Kat, then up at me, still on the stairs. “I was going to ask if you were staying for dinner, but it looks like you have plans.”

  “We do,” Kat says.

  At the same time as I say, “Depends on what you’re making.”

  Kat glares at me over her shoulder. “I told you, Damien. Everything on the menu. You’re not getting out of it.”

  I am if I win. Or if Mrs. Wilson is cooking something so good that we can’t resist. Not that I want to miss making fun of poetry night, but we could scarf down some food and still make the second half. And conveniently be too full to bother with going out to dinner. Not that it matters, because only the loser has to pay, and it’s not going to be me.

  “Oh, just a roast,” she says, waving it off, even though it smells amazing. “I wanted to make something special for our guest. Your father and I have been meaning to have her over ever since she started this summer, and the timing finally worked out.”

  A girl about our age appears from the dining room. She has frizzy brown hair she’s put up in a ponytail, with a couple of loose strands around her face, and she’s wearing a Vilmore T-shirt, which is tucked into her beige slacks. I can’t tell if she looks dressed for school or work. She smiles at Kat’s mom. “Can I help you with anything?”

  Mrs. Wilson shakes her head. “I’ve got it.” She gestures to Kat. “This is my daughter—”

  “You must be Kat,” the girl says, nodding in acknowledgment. “I’ve heard all about you.”

  “You… have?” Kat makes a confused face and glances between her mom and the new girl.

  “And you’re Damien,” the girl says, looking over at me, “but everyone knows that.” She laughs nervously.

  Kat scowls. “Mom, who is—”

  “This is Rachel.” Kat’s mom puts a hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “She’s our intern.”

  “What intern?”

  “You know, our intern. At work.”

  “No, I don’t. Since when do you have an intern?”

  “Since the beginning of the summer. It’s a new program.”

  “You didn’t say anything to me about it.”

  Her mom frowns. She looks like she’s about to respond to that when Kat’s dad joins us. He beams proudly at Rachel, then glances at Kat. “I see you’ve met my new protege.”

  “Your new what?” Kat says.

  “Rachel’s been a dream come true around the office. She’s a quick learner, great with machines. We couldn’t have asked for anyone better.”

  Rachel’s cheeks turn pink, and she ducks her head a little. “Well, I do my best.”

  Kat’s mom clucks her tongue. “Don’t be so modest.”

  Kat stares at them. “You didn’t tell me you were looking for an intern.”

  “We’re just lucky she applied,” her dad says.

  Rachel clears her throat. “I wasn’t sure I’d find anything. I’ll be a senior at Vilmore next year—”

  “You two are the same age,” Mrs. Wilson points out.

  “—and I was really hoping to get some real-world experience with machinery. I only applied to Wilson Enterprises on a whim. I never thought I’d actually get in. But thankfully Tom and Mary liked my resume and gave me a chance.”

  “Tom and Mary?” Kat repeats, sounding kind of numb.

  “Rachel here spotted a flaw in our latest design her first week with the company. If we’d shipped it out like that…” Her dad shudders. “She saved us a ton, both in money and integrity. I can’t have her calling us Mr. and Mrs. Wilson.”

  “You can, though,” Kat says, “because you’re her bosses.”

  Her dad laughs, like she just made a joke. “Well, we shouldn’t keep you. You two look like you’re headed out.” He says that with a smile on his face, even though he just referred to me and Kat leaving the house together, which is one of his least favorite things.

  Kat looks at me, then at her dad. “Actually, we’re not,” she says, suddenly shapeshifting back to normal, so that her hair’s in a messy side braid and she’s wearing just a T-shirt and shorts again. “We’re staying for dinner.”

  I’m just getting into my car to leave Kat’s house when Riley calls. Which is good timing, because I was going to call him anyway, since I know he’s not working tonight.

  “Hey, Perkins, what are you—”

  “What the hell, X?!” He sounds pissed at me. And like I’m supposed to know what he’s talking about.

  I scan my memory for anything I might have done to enrage him, but nothing comes to mind. Er, well, except that I may have given Jeffrey the idea of starting up a Perkins family game night—one that would of course include me—but it was just a suggestion and not something to get so worked up about. Plus, Riley doesn’t just sound angry. He sounds kind of… panicked, and I don’t see that happening over just the idea of family game night.

  “What?” I ask him.

  “Did you kiss Sarah?!”

  “You mean, like, ever? Because you already know that I have.” It was, like, a year and a half ago, before they’d even met, and I thought he was cool with it. Or if not cool with it, then at least not actively upset.

  “No, earlier today.”

  “Whoa, Perkins, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” I put my seatbelt on, even though I’m not leaving yet, what with still being on the phone.

  “I just need to hear it from you. Yes or no, did you kiss Sarah today?”

  “No. Of course not. Why would you even think that?”

  He breathes a sigh of relief, though he still sounds pretty freaked out. “Sarah said that someone who looked and sounded just like you came over to her house earlier, and he was acting really weird, and then he kissed her.”

  “Uh, it couldn’t have been someone ‘just like me’ because I’m me, and I wasn’t there. I’ve been
at Kat’s house since this morning.” A creepy feeling runs up my spine. “And you know I wouldn’t do that.”

  “I know, X. But somebody who looked like you—”

  “There’s nobody who looks like me.” Though, thanks to all those YouTube videos, what I look like isn’t exactly a secret. Maybe it was someone trying to impersonate me, though that doesn’t explain why they tried to kiss Sarah. “When did this happen?”

  “I just got off the phone with her when I called you, so less than half an hour ago.”

  So, definitely while I was at Kat’s. “You’re not at her house?”

  “I’m at home. I wanted to go over there, but—”

  “I’m coming to pick you up. We have to go over to Sarah’s and figure this out.”

  “—but Sarah insisted she was fine. And it’s getting kind of late.”

  “Late? Are you serious? It’s barely even seven o’clock. It won’t even be dark for a couple more hours.” I consider going back inside to get Kat, or at least texting her and asking if she wants to come with me, but then I think better of it. Kat’s already in a bad mood, and going to investigate someone who made themselves look like me and then kissed Sarah probably wouldn’t do anything to make her feel better. And it might also dredge up old grievances that will definitely cause problems for me. Er, and for Kat. And possibly our whole group. Plus, it’s probably nothing.

  Just some creeper who thought it would be cool to impersonate me and kiss one of my friends. Nothing to worry about.

  “But by the time you get here,” Riley says, “it’ll be more like seven thirty, and that’s when our new ‘family game night’ is supposed to start.” I can practically hear him rolling his eyes at that. “Somehow, Jeffrey got it into his head that this was a good idea.”

  A good idea that was supposed to involve me. I can’t believe he had the nerve to leave me out of it, though maybe I’ll wait to bring that up to him until after we all go to the water park this weekend. “Sounds lame. You should get out of it. It’s not like your mom won’t understand.”

  “She’d probably let me leave if I told her what happened, but… I don’t even know how to begin to explain this. I mean, someone who looks just like my best friend kissed my girlfriend?!”