by Drew Hayes
“Good afternoon!” Helen’s voice was full of cheer and pep as she greeted her first Starscout of the day. “Is everyone packed and ready for an amazing weekend of fun, friends, and frivolity?”
“Yay!” Beth threw up her arms in celebration, and for a moment, even Ivan’s steely demeanor was cracked by a smile.
“A little alliteration?” Tori chuckled at her own wordplay, unintentional though it was. “Yeah, I’d say we’re pretty psyched.”
Ivan didn’t respond immediately; that was never his way. Only in battle was he quick and decisive. In his civilian identity, he favored being steady over being speedy. Better to grasp a situation well, and then act, than move in too rashly. It was one of the traits Helen admired in him; she tended to be prone to impulse in her own life. “Is there anything you need?”
“Sure, take this clipboard and help me greet our cluster as they roll in. We have to get an accurate head count before we can depart.” Helen thrust the hunk of wood into Ivan’s chest, and with it, she saw the nearly imperceptible signs of his nerves easing. What he’d really been asking was if there were threats to be aware of, and she’d just told him to keep his mind on the actual tasks of the job. Ivan did best when he had a role to play and a script to follow. Keeping him in cluster-leader mode would put his focus on actual issues, rather than potential ones.
For the first time since she’d been staring down at the stampeding hoard of monsters, Helen paused and took a breath. There was still a lot of weekend to go, and she hoped not to spend any more of it flying through the air while shining brightly.
“How was your Friday? Soak in the last bits of civilization while you still can?” Tori asked.
Helen half-shrugged, as if her activities were too boring to warrant a proper roll of the shoulders. “Same old, same old. Just another day at the office.”
Chapter 72
In the planning, preparation, and lead-up to this trip, Tori thought she’d gotten a good sense of what she was in for, having never gone to such an event in her own Starscout days. It took only until the bus pulled onto the campgrounds, joining dozens of others streaming onto the site, for Tori to realize just how off her expectations had been.
She’d pictured ten or so other clusters, all sharing a large chunk of forest with perhaps one central cabin in case of emergencies. Instead, Tori was forced to wonder if the entire state was all gathering for this single End of Summer Shindig; she stopped counting after the first fifty buses. Given that the attendance was so much higher than expected, she was somewhat less shocked as they began to weave their way through a huge swath of land. Dotted around it were various cabins and hookup points for RVs, all of which the huge convoy passed, heading into the deepest part of the forest.
It was there she finally saw the Starscout area—what almost looked like someone had built a full summer camp meant for hundreds of people out in the middle of nowhere. There were bunk cabins, a huge mess hall, various activity stands, a lake twinkling in the late-evening sun, and tons of space for setting up tents. Clearly multipurpose, yet she had to imagine this was the zenith of its usefulness, the main intent with which the space was built.
Since summer still held a slight upper hand in the changing of the seasons, it was warm enough to camp outside using tents. Some years, it had to be the bunk cabins for safety, and depending on how the winds blew, that might still end up being the case, but for the first evening, Tori found herself pitching in to help the scouts set up their camp. Or rather, she tried to do that, but instead discovered that the kids were overall better at it than she was. For them, this was old hat, whereas Tori had never been a fan of tents, even in her street days. Since she didn’t worry about the cold, the loss of visibility wasn’t worth the minor protection from the elements.
Only once every tent was sturdy and stable did Helen gather her charges. They’d ended up fairly in the middle of things, surrounded by other clusters, not far from the lake. It was a vantage point that showed her the multitude of others still handling their setup, giving Tori an unexpected pang of pride in the efficiency of her group. The sentiment was especially unwarranted given how little she’d helped, yet it was there, all the same. There were, thankfully, logistics to focus on instead.
“Great job setting up!” Helen declared, getting a rabble of cheers from the kids. She didn’t let it grow past that, speaking while she had their attention captured. “Time to look ahead to the rest of our evening. We’ve got about an hour before the mess will start serving dinner, and the social starts right after, so anyone who wants to wash up should get jumping. We all know how fast the lines can grow around here.”
The rest of the cluster nodded, so Tori did, as well. It wasn’t hard to picture; this many people were going to cause traffic no matter what. She wondered if Ivan had brought along any sort of Wade-tech to mitigate that issue, at least where restrooms were concerned. Unlikely, but a woman could dream.
“Tomorrow, we start the Shindig Games bright and early, so try not to stay up too late catching up with your friends.” There was something of a wink in her tone, the implied understanding of a rule that must exist, and yet everyone expects to be broken. “Tori and Mr. Gerhardt are our only newbies here. The rest of you know the area. Remember to stay within the camp at all times, unless you’re in the company of a Starscout leader—we are still in the wilderness. If you need anything, I’ll be here. Otherwise, come back by seven for dinner.”
It was almost akin to being in a flophouse when someone screamed “Cape!” the way those children scattered. They fled in every direction, racing away from their area, streaming into other camps and calling out greetings. Coming here yearly, they’d obviously made friends among the other clusters, which was probably the point of getting them all together in the first place. Tori wondered if she’d been too young for these kinds of events, or if her parents had simply been too busy. It was tempting to put them on a pedestal, but keeping them human in her memories also helped make the pain manageable. They’d both been career-driven scientists; it wasn’t inconceivable that this sort of thing was more than their schedules could, or would be allowed, to bear.
“Are we sure none of them used magic? That was a really quick departure,” Tori noted.
“Our only known magic meta-human at this particular function is Lavinia, who you can thank for the utter lack of insects around us. She’s got some handy repelling spells laid down.” Helen scanned the campground once, like she was taking note of every activity and not just the actions of their kids. “Since we’ve got some time to work—Ivan, why don’t you finish unloading the rest of our supplies? Get some exercise for a change, you desk-jockey. Tori, we can’t have you out here without knowing how to ready a tent, so you’re going to help me with mine.”
With one hand, Tori waved to the rows of tents already sitting there. “Seems like that’s already handled, doesn’t it?”
“Until a strong wind knocks one over in the night and a scout needs help fixing it, potentially while terrified from being suddenly woken up. Or when breaking them down happens, and they need your help to not snap a delicate part of the frame. We’re the adults here. The kids have to know we can handle any problem that arises. The buck stops with us, so we should be prepared.”
On the surface, it might be difficult to see why Helen and Ivan got along so well, despite coming from visibly different worlds. But when one scratched the slightest bit deep, the biggest similarity leapt into view: responsibility. Helen and Ivan both cared a tremendous amount about the duty of their roles; each took their responsibilities arguably too seriously. Tori felt reasonably sure the world wouldn’t end if she couldn’t make a tent, yet from the way Helen spoke, it was like there were incredible stakes at play.
She followed Helen over, taking hold of a faded old green tent and helping to spread it out along the ground. In the corner of her eye, Tori could see Ivan unloading boxes of food from the bus—their contribution to the overall supplies. He almost reached for an en
tire stack of four, then thought better of it, shifting his grip up to two. Finally, and not without some visible annoyance, Ivan settled on a single box, hefting it onto his shoulder and starting the trek toward the mess hall. It had to be galling, knowing he could lift the whole bus, and having to do things the mundane way all the same.
A jolt brought Tori back to the moment. Helen had gently tapped the tip of her nose. It was more shocking than painful, jarring her suddenly. “We can help Ivan afterward if you’re worried about him, but there’s no point in doing this unless you’re paying attention.”
“Sorry,” Tori mumbled.
“It’s okay. I get it. New scene, lots to take in—this is an exciting place, and we’re going to have a lot of fun here.” Helen patted the green canvas firmly. “After our chores are done.”
Tori watched carefully as Helen stretched the fabric, pulling out the long tubes of plastic and slowly threading them through loops sewn into the tent. The procedure was smooth and effortless, equally so when Helen yanked them all right back out and set the tubes at Tori’s feet. “Your turn.”
“I just watched you do it.”
“Then it should be easy to replicate,” Helen countered. “And I’ll be here if you run into trouble.”
“For someone only a few years older than me, you sure do like to give orders.” Tori picked up the nearest tube and began attempting to mimic the feat she’d seen Helen so easily manage. It eventually did make it through the first loop, but it wasn’t nearly so smooth an operation.
Reaching over, Helen pinched a piece of fabric, breaking up a minor stoppage in the second loop so the tube could keep moving. “I look good for my age. Also, part of life as a single mom. You get used to acting as the final line of making sure everything gets done, because if you don’t, it won’t. Being in charge is a responsibility.”
“Where is your daughter this weekend, anyway? Could she not come along?” Tori finally finagled the first tube through its final loop and started work on the second. This time, she didn’t need Helen’s help with the pinch trick, utilizing it herself to roughly force the plastic along.
“Too young for this event, and not a Starscout yet. She may not go down that road at all. Penelope is her own creature; she never seems compelled to follow in my footsteps, thank goodness.” Helen looked a tad flustered at that last line, almost like it said more than she intended. “She’s staying with a friend of the family, alongside other kids her age. I daresay I’ll come home to an excited ball of energy, or a completely wiped-out shell of a child.”
On the final tube, Tori hit a significant snag, one that no amount of pinching seemed to clear. She started pushing harder, trying to force the plastic through the fabric, only to have Helen’s hand fall lightly on her arm. “Stronger isn’t always better. Sometimes, you’re better off backing up, taking a breath, and trying again.”
It was a good thing Ivan had taught Tori to not inadvertently let out heat, because she’d definitely have seared a few holes in the tent’s thin material otherwise. Pausing for a few attempts at calming breaths, she wiggled the tube into the loop once more, and this time found it moved without issue. Whatever configuration of fibers had caused the blockage had moved on their own when she yanked out the tube.
“There we go. Very well done. Now, we get the stakes, and I show you how to keep this bad boy bolted to the ground.” Helen hopped lightly to her feet; she was a surprisingly spry woman when she wanted to be. As Tori dug through a bag, she looked back to Ivan.
He was still going one box at a time, even as some of the other cluster leaders were hauling visibly heavier loads. But they were the strapping sort, the kind one expected to find unbothered by heft. Ivan was leaner—not that his body would have accurately portrayed his strength if he were three stories tall—and therefore had to pretend to be weaker. It was the commitment to the identity that she admired more than anything. No one would have blinked if Ivan opted to carry two boxes at a time instead of one, yet he refused to make even that small of a compromise. He lived his role unerringly, devoted to the deception. Tori wasn’t sure she’d ever be that good, or had the desire to try. The easier path seemed to be avoiding people, especially capes, wherever possible.
“Gotcha!” Helen emerged from her bag with a handful of metal skewers, each tilted at a sharp angle on a single end. “Come grab an end. You can hold the tent in place while I hammer.”
At least here, Tori didn’t have to pretend. Fire powers and meta-suits didn’t help one bit with getting a tent ready. Maybe that was why Ivan liked the office—it asked him to rise to challenges that Fornax never could. Come to think of it, that might be why she’d managed to find a bit of joy there as well. It wasn’t the right environment for her long-term, but it had definitely taught Tori that there were ways to be fulfilled outside of science and stealing.
And at the end of today, she’d have learned an entirely new skill. She might not touch another tent ever again, or she could be hurled into some wasteland tomorrow. It never hurt to have a skill, by her reckoning, so Tori paid close attention as Helen lined up the first metal skewer.
“This is the best part, because unlike with the tubing, here hitting things hard does tend to fix all your problems.” Helen smashed down on the skewer with the heel of her palm, driving it into the dirt.
“If only life could be so simple,” Tori mused.
“I don’t know, I think if you hit your problems often enough, you’ll probably run out of them,” Helen replied. “Either one would hit back harder than you could handle, or you’d drive off all the people and things that caused the problems to start with. Both pretty bad endings, if you ask me.”
Tori shrugged. “It helps if you’re a misanthrope.”
“Funny, you sure do have a lot of people in your life for someone who just claimed to dislike them.” Helen smiled, extending the next metal skewer. “Want to take a crack at the next one? Sounds like someone could do to show the ground what-for.”
Weird choice of phrasing aside, Tori wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity. If she had to learn this, she might as well learn it well. Plus, there was something to be said for the therapy of smacking inanimate objects.
Chapter 73
In his life, Ivan had been no stranger to unique experiences. From fake tournaments in space, to several mystical Christmas adventures, to traveling through a land made from mirrors and terror, to being summoned as a hero in a world of magic; yet he still counted this as one of the most surreal moments he’d ever experienced. Standing in the middle of a gigantic facility, surrounded by kids and other cluster leaders, amidst one of the biggest events of the Starscouts year. That he was here at all was bizarre, that Beth was along as well pushed it into the realm of unbelievable, and then, when one factored in Helen... were Ivan more confident about his prospects in whatever afterlife awaited, he might have thought himself unknowingly dead and ascended.
Of course, this was no heaven, which was why he had to snag the tumbling child who nearly came down headfirst on a punchbowl in their excitement for snacks. He was at this social on-the-clock, as an official of the organization, with a duty to uphold—though that duty was coming in fits and spurts, as the children were largely occupied.
All manner of food, drink, and snack had been brought in for the post-dinner social. The hall was largely segmented off into a more active section, versus one for restful engagement. There were games on both sides, things like cards and Velcro darts with minimal potential for causing damage. Some kids were playing, others chatting, and a brave few were already out on the dance floor, going to town. Beth was among a group of friends from prior years, catching up as they tossed bean bags at a slanted plank of wood, and he noticed Tori making rounds near one of the snack tables. She was grazing freely, but also helping out the kids who’d piled their plates too high, so she was at least earning her nibbles.
The whole ordeal was so peaceful and fun, it set his teeth on edge. Youth did not come with pleasant as
sociations for Ivan. It was hard not to expect one of these children to wheel around and strike while another’s guard was down. He envied this life of theirs, but couldn’t be jealous. Ivan didn’t even have the capacity to imagine experiencing a normal childhood—the scars of reality ran much too deep. It didn’t matter, anyway. There was no changing the past. Watching his daughter smile and laugh without so much as a smidge of fear, Ivan told himself that was all the normal he needed.
“Hmmm, I’m a little worried about that dance floor. Should somebody get it started?”
In another life, Ivan would have grinned at the sound of Helen’s voice arriving at his side. Instead, he merely nodded, letting perhaps a small spark of good humor into his eyes. “There are already kids dancing.”
“Like six, and two of them are doing something interpretive. Sure seems like somebody should get it started.” Helen bumped against Ivan’s arm with her shoulder. “How’s the trip treating you so far?”
“No issues to report.”
The sigh that came from her lips was almost painfully familiar. “Not what I asked. I wanted to know how it’s going. Are you enjoying yourself? Because it’s okay if you are. You do get to be happy sometimes, Ivan.”
It was the sort of thing only she could say with sincerity, the reason Helen was more dangerous than any other cape. She believed in people, to the core, and while that had made her job all the harder at times, it also meant she’d managed things like influencing Fornax, something that even Ivan would have considered impossible at the time.
“I am happy every day. I am grateful every day. I know where my path was supposed to lead, and each morning I rise fully aware that I’m living on bonus time.”