After nearly an hour, Adrian had won a small light-up wand that some marketing company had emblazoned with Blacklight’s name, even though Blacklight had never used a wand so far as Nova knew. Meanwhile, she traded in all her mini prizes for a gigantic Dread Warden doll, which was almost as tall as she was. Adrian cracked up when the carnival worker handed it to her.
“Look, I won you a prize,” she said, promptly passing it on to him.
“What? You don’t want it?”
“I truly don’t.”
Adrian held the doll out at arm’s length. “I should probably be flattered, but I can’t help but feel that there might be something a little creepy about having a giant doll of your dad lying around.”
“You think?”
He peered at her over the doll’s head. “Will it hurt your feelings if I give it to him for his birthday? He will find it hysterical.”
The doll was pretty hilarious, with its mop of felted hair and flimsy cape. “Do with it what you will,” she said. “My feelings will survive.”
He tucked the doll under one arm as they started to make their way through the carnival again.
“How weird is it?” Nova asked. “To know that so many people completely, blindly idolize your dads like that?”
“Honestly, the weirdest part is that you sort of get used to it after a while.” Adrian shrugged. “And I’d rather people idolize them than want to kill them. Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be much middle ground with how people feel about the Council.”
She tore her gaze away.
“Luckily, these days, more people appreciate prodigies than despise them. I know there are still people out there who don’t trust us, especially after all the things they went through under the villain gangs.”
Nova knew it was true. Even today, walking around the carnival in her Renegade uniform, there wasn’t much variety in the reactions she got from complete strangers. Either they stopped to stare at her with slack-jawed smiles and awestruck eyes, whispering giddily once she passed, or their expressions soured upon noticing the gray uniform and the red R, and they would promptly cross the path or turn another direction entirely.
She couldn’t be sure, though, if that hatred was directed at Renegades, or all prodigies. People were still afraid of them, and rightly so. Even those who admired the Renegades, their supposed protectors, still seemed to harbor a respect that bordered on nervous insecurity.
Hero or villain, all prodigies were powerful. All prodigies were dangerous.
“—most people can see that we’re not all like that,” Adrian was saying, drawing her attention back to him. “Life is far better now than it ever was when Ace Anarchy was in charge, and that’s because of the Renegades.” He shook the doll. “And the Council.”
Nova frowned. “Ace Anarchy wasn’t actually in charge,” she said, before she could restrain herself. “I mean, he … he was probably technically the ruler of the Anarchists, but I don’t think he really wanted to rule, you know? He mostly … just … wanted the oppression of prodigies to stop.” She swallowed. “At least that’s what it always sounded like to me.”
Adrian’s lips quirked. “How forgiving does a person have to be in order to defend Ace Anarchy?”
“I’m not being forgiving. I’m just … I just think that he gets blamed for everything that happened during those years, when really … so much of it was because of the other gangs that rose to power in the absence of government. And that’s not what he was trying to accomplish, either. He was all about personal freedom, personal responsibility, about taking care of yourself and your own, rather than expecting anyone to take care of you. He wanted to do away with oppression and regulations that only serve a small group of people, and … and … um.” Her face flushed. “At least … that’s … that’s what some people say. About him.”
Rather than looking at her like she had lost her mind, as Nova expected, Adrian’s smile had grown. “Well, I have a feeling that if those people had ever actually met Ace Anarchy, they might feel a little differently.”
Nova tensed. “Why? Have you met him?”
“Afraid not. And I’m not sorry that I’ll never have the chance.” His expression turned serious as he peered at her. “You don’t actually think things are better now because of him. Do you?”
She considered her response for a long time. “I think a lot of horrible things happened during the Age of Anarchy, a lot of things that shouldn’t have happened. But I also think that if Ace Anarchy hadn’t done what he did … then this”—she tugged on the doll’s cape—“wouldn’t be possible. Prodigies would still be in hiding. People would still hate us.”
Adrian’s lips went taut, and Nova wondered if she had said too much.
But then he sighed. “I guess I can’t argue that. But still, I can’t help but believe that there was a better way to get from there to here.”
Nova thought of all the buildings destroyed, all the people killed. Her sigh mimicked his. “I can’t argue with that, either.”
“One good thing that definitely came out of that time,” said Adrian, opening his arms wide, “is that now, we have superheroes. Maybe that’s the difference. Before, people saw us as freaks with scary powers. Now, they see us as … as inspirations.”
“Inspirations?”
“Sure. Everyone wants to be a hero. When you think about it, it’s a little sad that so few actually get to be one.”
Nova couldn’t contain a derisive sniff. “It would be sad, except they don’t actually mean it.”
Adrian cocked his head at her. “What do you mean?”
“There’s no rule that says you have to be a prodigy to be a hero,” she insisted. “If people wanted to stand up for themselves or protect their loved ones or do what they believe in their hearts is the right thing to do, then they would do it. If they wanted to be heroic, they would find ways to be heroic, even without supernatural powers.” She waggled her fingers in mockery of said powers. “It’s easy to say you want to be a hero, but the truth is most people are lazy and complacent. They have the Renegades to do all the rescuing and saving, so why should they bother? It’s easier to just call the hotline, then turn the other way and pretend it’s not your problem to solve.”
Her words tasted bitter even on her own tongue, not because they were pessimistic, but because they were true.
Because of the Renegades, humanity was becoming weak and pathetic, as she had once been weak and pathetic. Waiting in the darkness of that closet, listening as her sister’s cries were silenced. So hopeful, so trustworthy, believing with all her heart that the Renegades would come.
But they were false idols. Liars and cheats.
Maybe if she hadn’t been waiting for the Renegades, she wouldn’t have hidden in that closet. Maybe she could have put her parents’ murderer to sleep sooner. Maybe she could have saved Evie.
Or maybe one of the neighbors would have heard the commotion and come to help, rather than assuming someone else would take care of it.
Maybe … just maybe.
“What do you propose?” said Adrian, slipping his free hand into his pocket as they meandered past a series of food vendors. “Should we open a hero-training course, open to non-prodigies? Teach them ethics and martial arts and … I don’t know. Bravery. Do you think you can teach someone to be brave?”
Nova felt the side of her mouth lift, just a little, in some relief that he hadn’t outright refuted her argument against heroes. “A hero-training course would be a start, but it would only go so far. As long as there are superheroes, there will be people who rely on them far too much. I think humanity would be better off if there were no … no prodigies at all.”
For a moment, she’d almost said Renegades, before remembering who she was speaking to. But on further inspection, she realized it was true. It wasn’t just Renegades who had caused so much trouble for humanity. It was the villains, too, though they’d only been reacting to centuries of hatred and discrimination.
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nbsp; How much better off would the world be if there were no prodigies at all?
“I agree that dependence might be a problem,” said Adrian, with some amusement, “but no prodigies at all? That might be taking it a bit far.”
“I don’t think so.”
“What about all the things the Council has built over the past nine years? All the things the Renegades do for this city, and the whole world, for that matter?”
“All things that non-prodigies would have built if we weren’t around. All things that people would be doing for themselves. If there was no Council, they would have reestablished their own government by now, or at least be trying to. Putting together their own patrols and law enforcement, writing their own laws, building their own infrastructure…”
He cast a sideways look at her. “The world would be falling apart if it wasn’t for us.”
“The world was fine before prodigies got involved with it. It would be fine again. As it is, it’s always going to be this way. Prodigies will always be at odds with one another, always fighting for power and dominance, and normal people will always suffer for it.”
Adrian cocked his head and she could see him contemplating her words for a long time. “You’re serious about this.”
“Yeah, I am. Not that it matters, but I do believe humanity would be better off without us. Without prodigies or villains or the Renegades. Society would sort itself out, just like it has a hundred times throughout history, but it would do it a lot faster, and with a lot less turmoil, if it wasn’t for our interference.”
Adrien held her gaze for a long time. “That’s bleak,” he finally said.
Nova shrugged. “It’s the truth.”
They were quiet as they passed by the roller coaster, listening to the creak of the tracks and the screeches of the passengers.
Switching the doll to his other arm, Adrian finally released an exaggerated breath. “Well. Now that we have that important philosophical discussion out of the way … what next?” He pointed. “Roller coaster? Tilt-a-whirl? Are you hungry?”
Nova smiled, the knot in her chest quickly unwinding. “Correct me if I’m mistaken, but aren’t we supposed to be looking for somebody?”
“You’re absolutely right.” Adrian tapped a finger against his lips. “And I think we should look for her”—he pointed—“on the Ferris wheel.”
Nova followed his look to the colorful ride. “Yeah. That seems like a really likely hiding spot for a supervillain.”
“Maybe not, but it will give us a good view of the park, and we can plot out a strategy from there.”
It was an excuse, and not a particularly good one. Nova found her heart beginning to stutter as they made their way through the crowds. Because, for the first time since they’d arrived, she began to wonder why Ruby and Oscar and Danna hadn’t joined them. She began to wonder why Adrian had asked her to join him, and not one of his more experienced teammates.
She began to wonder whether this whole day wasn’t really about finding Nightmare at all.
But thinking that Adrian might have ulterior motives only led her thoughts down a path that made her palms sweat and her pulse flutter. She was picturing those small gondolas with her, Adrian, and the doll crammed into one them. She was imagining their hips pressed against each other. His shoulder tucked against hers.
Or would it be so tight that he would put his arm around her? Her skin tingled with the very thought of it.
How was it that something that would have been unthinkable weeks ago was now so easy to imagine?
“Nova?”
“Ferris wheel,” she said, then cleared her throat. “Sure. Okay.”
They had not gone far, though, when there was a chorus of high-pitched screams: “Renegade!”
Nova turned to see a dozen children rushing toward them out of a yellow-striped circus tent, over which hung a sign that read PARTY CENTRAL. The kids themselves were wearing an assortment of masks and capes like those Nova had seen at the parade.
To her surprise, they did not run toward Adrian, but her, and it took her a moment to remember that she was the one in uniform.
“It’s her! It’s the one from the trials!” screamed a girl, to which a boy beside her responded, “Yeah, the one who beat the Gargoyle!”
She looked at Adrian, who appeared baffled himself, but the look quickly turned into a warm smile. “Hey, kids. You’re right. This is Insomnia.”
“Insomnia!” said the boy. “That’s right! I was there that night—I gave you the Hero sign for sure.”
“Oh. Thanks?” started Nova.
“Will you come to my birthday party?”
She looked down to see a small black-haired boy with a missing front tooth grinning up at them. He was the only kid in full superhero regalia—a Captain Chromium costume. His party hat read, in bold letters, CAPTAIN CHROMIUM’S SIDEKICK. “It’s a superhero theme! Come on!”
Nova found herself being drawn toward the tent. She looked back at Adrian, bewildered, but relieved to find him trekking after them. He saw her expression and started to laugh.
They had just stepped into the overhang of the tent when Nova managed to shake the kids off her. “Hold on,” she said, raising her hands. “Yes, I’m Insomnia. But he”—she pointed at Adrian—“is the real hero. You should definitely pester him instead.”
Adrian lifted a challenging eyebrow at her, but it only took a heartbeat for the children to swarm around him. The birthday boy bounced on the balls of his feet. “You do look familiar. Are you a Renegade too?”
“I am,” said Adrian, disgustingly composed.
Nova glared at him.
“What can you do?” asked one of the girls.
Adrian looked around and Nova followed the look. The small tent was crammed with long picnic tables covered in plastic cloths and folding chairs sporting clusters of balloons. On one table sat a homemade cake and a small stack of presents. There were adults too—the parents of all these children, Nova guessed, many of whom had ceased their conversations to stare at the new arrivals.
“What can I do?” said Adrian, and Nova saw his hand inching toward his pocket. His eyes brightened as he knelt down on one knee so he was eye to eye with the birthday boy. “Tell me, what’s one present that you really, really want for your birthday this year?”
The boy immediately blurted out, “A bike.”
“A bike?” Adrian glanced up at a woman who resembled the boy. “Is that all right with you?”
“All right with me?” said the woman, looking pained. “It’s not exactly … I can’t afford…” She looked helpless, like it broke her heart to not be able to answer this one wish for her child. “I would love to give him one, if I could.”
“Well,” said Adrian, pulling out the marker. “Let’s see what we can do.”
CHAPTER FORTY
NOVA FOUND HERSELF LOITERING on the edges of the tent, watching the party with a mix of delight at seeing the children’s innocent enthusiasm, but also a fair amount of pity when she thought of how very misplaced that enthusiasm was.
Renegades, she wanted to tell them, they’ll break your heart in the end.
Except she couldn’t convince herself that this Renegade would.
The birthday boy had been wobbling on his bike for several minutes now and had even managed to lift his feet from the ground and take half a turn around the tent before he panicked and crashed into a table—unhurt, thankfully. And as soon as the other kids saw what Adrian could do, they began plying him with requests. Draw me a teddy bear … a lollipop … an airplane! Until the tent was full of gifts, all in matching canary yellow pulled straight from the walls of the canvas tent.
Adrian never said no, not even when the requests became more and more outlandish (now a tree house … a tree house with cannons … a tree house with cannons and also a moat being guarded by a robotic shark!), and he never seemed annoyed, even as the kids pressed in around him, leaving him little space to actually draw the things they wanted.
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“Excuse me?”
Nova glanced down. The birthday boy’s older sister, perhaps eight or nine years old, stood at the table beside her.
“Don’t look at me,” said Nova, lifting her hands. “My abilities are negligible compared to his.”
The girl blinked, and it occurred to Nova that she probably had no idea what the word negligible meant. She was trying to come up with a synonym when the girl asked, “I was at the trials.”
Nova blinked. “Oh. That. Right.”
“You were amazing,” said the girl, a little breathless. “You didn’t even use superpowers!”
“No. No, that’s the thing, my power is … not…” She glanced at Adrian. “Not showy, like that.”
“Yeah, but that’s what was so great about it.” The girl’s ears had gone pink. “I’m not a prodigy, but … seeing you, it sort of made me think that maybe I could be a Renegade, too, you know?”
Nova opened her mouth, but hesitated, unsure how to respond. She doubted the Renegades would ever recruit someone who didn’t have at least a little bit of a superpower, but Danna and Adrian had both suggested that she could stay on the team even if Max had stolen her ability. And if that was possible, maybe a non-prodigy could someday be accepted too.
She thought back to her conversation with Adrian. He thought they were inspirations to the people. He believed that the existence of superheroes could encourage everyone to be more heroic. Nova had been adamant that he was wrong, but seeing the way this girl was looking at her now, she had to wonder.
So instead of rejecting the girl’s dream, she leaned forward. “Can I tell you a secret?”
The girl inched closer, nodding giddily.
“You don’t need to be a Renegade to be a superhero.”
The girl’s head listed to one side. “That sounds like something my mom would say.”
Nova laughed. “Sorry. I mean, it’s true, but … it’s also sort of a cop-out, isn’t it?”
“Did you get any cake?”
Startled by the change of topic, Nova shook her head. “No, but I don’t—”
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