‘One of those journalist people said something about arson. How messed up is that? When I was talking to them afterwards – that’s why it took me so long getting back here by the way – they said that the lockups should have been empty on a Saturday and wanted to know if I’d seen anything suspicious. Don’t you think that’s strange?’
‘Never mind that – what was with all those explosions anyway? I thought you were going to move the cylinders to a safe place to cool down?’
‘I thought that too. But it turns out that I couldn’t keep my hands cool enough. Ugh, when that first boom happened? That was horrible. I thought I had ruined everything. I thought that everyone was going to think that I couldn’t handle one simple job. Once I had gone in and got the first cylinder out, I could feel it hissing and shaking, and then it seemed that the only thing I could do was let it explode, but only after I’d got it to a safe height. Sure turned out to be a good show, right?’
‘It’s not about the show, remember. What would the Amazing Clara have done in the same circumstances?’ I tried not to make it sound like a scold, but apparently failed miserably.
‘The Amazing Clara didn’t have hands that were on fire,’ Erica snapped before quickly changing the subject. ‘Did I ruin your date?’
‘It wasn’t a date.’
Even though I couldn’t see her face properly, I knew that she was smiling, still trying to tease me despite her pain. ‘Well, mine didn’t even get started. Jay never turned up. And I swear that I saw his motorbike parked around the corner, but then I suppose all bikes look the same. I looked for him afterwards as well, in case he saw Flamegirl but not me. But nothing. He never showed. Stood up! How depressing is that?’
‘I think you should be thinking about resting up and not about a boy you hardly even know.’
‘You are such a spoilsport!’ she teased. ‘But that’s one of the reasons I love you. And thanks for giving me the push earlier. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You know that, right?’
I helped Erica up off the floor and out of the costume, which was singed and shredded all over the place. Definitely not rescuable, which was a shame. Erica told me that a paramedic handed her one of those silver emergency blankets to wrap around herself for all the photos, and I can imagine her wearing it like a bright metallic cape. Starting from scratch on the costume is going to be a nightmare, especially if we’re going to have to chuck them away every time Flamegirl makes an appearance. I’d have to research more suitable materials.
I let Erica rest on my bed while I went downstairs to have dinner with my family, like nothing unusual was going on. When I went back up to my room, Erica was gone. I went online to order another costume, and mumbled in frustration when I realised that, because of Halloween, it would take longer to arrive.
I didn’t hear from Erica for the rest of the weekend. She didn’t reply to any of my texts.
I’ve been hoping to talk to Erica all day, if only to find out if she’s all right. The few times we’ve passed each other today, there’s been nothing. Sure, she smiles at me, and I got a cheerful wave in French, but there is something forced and fake about it too, something that makes me worry why she didn’t get in touch all of Sunday. What I really want is a serious word about what we’re going to do next. Rationally I know that we’re both behaving exactly as we usually do in school, but right now that doesn’t feel like enough. I look over to the terrace outside the library, and there she is, her skin fresh and her hair all shiny in its bouncy ponytail. She gossips and laughs with her friends and is obviously pretending to be just as amazed and fascinated by Flamegirl as anybody else. But even from here I can tell that something isn’t right. She has the same look that my mum gets when she has a migraine but doesn’t want to worry anyone with it. I’m desperate to know what she’s thinking. Have I done something wrong?
‘Hey! Look at this!’ Toby exclaims suddenly, as loudly as it’s possible to exclaim in a library being monitored by the tireless Mrs Fraser.
‘What?’
‘Can you believe that Flamegirl already has a fan-art site? And someone’s done these manga mock-ups and they’re basically just awesome! I might have to get a print or something.’
‘Are you kidding me?’
‘Want to look?’
I nod in reply and Toby sneaks his phone to me under the table. I hold it down in my lap so that Mrs Fraser can’t see. Sure enough, there’s a whole Japanese-style art site dedicated to Flamegirl, black-catsuited, masked and yellow-haired, all exaggerated hips and sexy poses. Some of the pictures are a bit obscene actually, so I pass the phone back to Toby as quickly as I can, disgusted.
‘That is awful.’
‘I thought that you weren’t interested in Flamegirl anyway. I thought she was “just a person”,’ Toby tuts at me.
‘I’m not. She is.’
‘So then why were you so eager to look at Flamegirl manga?’ And even though I know he’s teasing me, I find myself responding anyway.
‘What is this – some kind of weird trick? I can’t believe how quickly that stuff appears on the internet. It’s only been a couple of days! Plus it’s so disgusting. You never see the guy superheroes posing with their bums and chests sticking out. It’s just sexist.’
‘You know what I think? I think you’re trying to seem all cool and “above” the superhero thing. But really you’re just as obsessed as everybody else. I see right through you, Louise Kirby.’
Toby stares straight at me, his eyes grey and gleaming. I dare myself to hold his gaze as long as possible, just so that I can keep looking at him looking at me like that, but as my heart rate quickens, I find myself blushing.
‘I’m not obsessed,’ I huff.
Even though it’s not the end of lunch yet I start to pack up my stuff to leave. Being so close to Toby while he’s teasing me like this is becoming annoying. I’m apparently failing abysmally at controlling my hormonal responses. This won’t do at all.
‘Where are you going?’ he asks.
‘I don’t need to hear all of this.’ I make to leave, acutely aware that Toby is also packing up his things and rushing to catch up with me.
‘Come on, Louise, admit it! You’re a sucker for the supers, just the same as the rest of us!’ he calls as he catches up with me. I daren’t turn to look at him because of all the blushing.
‘No, I’m not.’
‘What is it? A crush on Quantum? Or is Deep Blue more your style?’ He’s practically chasing me down the corridor now.
‘I don’t care about superheroes.’
‘Yes, you do!’
I stop, turn and brace myself in front of him, holding onto the straps of my backpack for strength. ‘I don’t give a crap about superheroes! And I especially don’t give a crap about stupid Flamegirl!’ I practically yell, and I’m pretty sure that if I was actually Flamegirl I’d have fireballs shooting out from my eyes right now.
‘Hi, Louise.’ I turn back round, and Erica is right there. Right. There.
‘Hi, Erica,’ I mumble.
I hope I’m imagining it, but she looks hurt.
‘Um … are we still on for tonight?’ Erica asks me, biting at her bottom lip.
I’m telling her with my eyes that I’m only trying to stop Toby harassing me and that this is just me doing the whole secret-identity thing as best I can, but I doubt she’s understanding this.
‘Of course! I’ll see you later?’
‘Yep, see you later.’ She’s trying to sound all bright and breezy as she wanders off with her friends.
‘I was only teasing, you know?’ Toby says, coming up close to me and faux-punching my shoulder.
I feel the blush creep back up my neck and decide that the only way out of this is to just brush the whole thing off like it never happened.
‘Of course. I know that.’
‘We OK?’
I want to tell him that as long as he doesn’t start swooning over Flamegirl right in front of me we’re going to be
fine. But because I don’t know how to explain why his swooning hurts me, all I say is, ‘Sure.’
She’s trying to pretend that things aren’t weird, but they definitely are. I can tell this because she’s actually getting on with her homework, not trying to get me talking about inane school gossip. She’s quiet and appears studious, but she is checking her phone every other minute. Maybe she’s checking the time to see when she can get away from me. I hate being paranoid, but Erica’s making it far too easy.
‘Are you feeling better now? No more sickness?’ I ask, but I have to say the first bit again because I’m mumbling so much.
‘Yep.’
‘No headaches or dizzy spells or anything?’
‘Nope.’
‘Have you ever thought about how your physiology might be different to regular people’s?’
‘Not really.’ At least that was three syllables.
She doesn’t even look at me, and the thought that she might be genuinely pissed off makes my stomach twist. And I don’t know what to say to make it better. Erica’s staring at the page of her textbook, but I doubt she’s actually reading. She’s twirling a pen in her fingers, and I watch silently as the heat from her hands melts the plastic and the shell of the biro splits in two and falls away.
‘I need to borrow a pen.’ Erica’s voice is flat as she tucks away the molten remnants into her pencil case. From the way she sits up suddenly, I think she is going to say something else, but she just starts biting at her bottom lip again.
‘I don’t want you to melt it.’
‘Fine. I’ll go home then.’
‘No, don’t go. I’ll get you another pen.’
I give her one of my smarter ones, to show her that I don’t care if she accidentally destroys it. She could turn my curtains into twin pillars of flame right now if she wanted to, I’m so desperate for her to be OK.
‘Please talk to me, Erica,’ I mumble.
She just continues to blank-stare at the textbook, until I get uncomfortable and return to my biology notes.
‘Today has totally sucked,’ she sighs unexpectedly.
I bookmark my page. ‘Why?’ I’m cautious. I don’t want to scare her off.
‘Do you have any idea what I’ve had to cope with today?’
‘You seemed fine when I saw you around—’
‘It’s all this pretending. And not being able to talk to anyone. And when I saw you at lunch I was actually coming to find you so that I could tell you why I blanked you on Sunday, and I needed to get away from the girls because they were driving me absolutely crazy. I thought I was going to cry because they’re convinced that Flamegirl must be a slut or something. But then I hear you mouthing off about me too. That’s why I’m angry, OK? I know you’ve been pretending as well, but it isn’t the same for you. It can’t be the same.’
‘I didn’t realise. I mean, I thought … but I didn’t actually realise.’
‘They were saying horrible things about my hair, and my arms, and how fat I am.’
‘You’re not fat.’
‘Whatever. It’s been wearing me down all day. I didn’t think it was going to be like this, that people would say things like that.’
‘You did an awesome job on Saturday. Imagine if those cylinders had actually exploded right where they were! It could have been terrible. You’re a proper superhero now. This is what you wanted,’ I remind her. ‘And I’m sorry that you heard me shouting like that at lunch. You know it wasn’t actually about you, right?’
‘Yeah, I know. I’ve had a rough day. And there are lots of feelings happening right now.’
‘You know that Toby is in love with you, right? I mean, not with you you, but with Flamegirl. It kind of got to me. That’s why I was so worked up and why I shouted.’
‘He’ll get over it.’ Erica smiles, before pausing and looking down. ‘There’s something else …’
‘What?’
She takes a long pause and recrosses her legs, apparently getting comfortable while also stalling for time. She looks down at the floor, not at me, and lets her hair hang in a blonde wave in front of her face.
‘Another reason I’m all angsty and stuff – it’s what I wanted to talk to you about at lunch, but I didn’t know how you’d take it. I don’t know how you’ll take it now in fact … It’s about why I didn’t speak to you on Sunday.’
‘What is it?’ She’s making me nervous.
‘It’s Jay.’
‘Did you find out why he stood you up?’
‘He didn’t stand me up.’
‘So, what, then?’
‘Louise … Jay’s one of them. Jay’s a Vigil. They’ve found me.’
It turns out that it was his motorbike that Erica saw outside the park last week. And here it is again, propped up in the same place right now. I don’t know why I agreed to this, and here, of all places, except that I couldn’t come up with any way to get out of it. This has all become very real, and I feel as if I’m desperately trying to cling on to something that is speeding away from me as fast as it can go.
What bugs me the most is that Jay didn’t want me to know. The reason Erica was so distant on Sunday, and so fraught about telling me on Monday evening, was that he asked her not to say anything. But she couldn’t, she had to tell me, and I suppose I should feel happy and relieved about that. But she still kept the truth from me for nearly two days, and contemplated not telling me at all, because of a stranger. A stranger who comes with no credentials other than his word, and who pretty much stalked us for a month, as far as I can work out. Possibly even longer. What would have happened if Erica hadn’t revealed who Jay really was? Would she suddenly have disappeared, only to emerge again on the Vigil A-team without telling me? Part of me is furious with her for this parallel timeline that hasn’t even happened, while another part is furious with the Vigils for even trying to make it happen. But the biggest part of me is furious with Jay himself, for trying to steal Erica away.
‘He doesn’t know you’re coming, OK? So be cool,’ Erica says as we walk across the field.
Apparently Jay is waiting for us at the tunnel. Don’t even get me started on how angry I am about that. The tunnel is our place, and him being there just pollutes it. This sneaky infiltration into our lives makes me suspicious. My fists clench up inside my sleeves. I wonder if I have it in me to punch him, because right now that’s exactly what I’d like to do.
As if he’s actually trying to make the situation worse, he’s smoking as he leans against the curved wall of the tunnel. He’s quite obviously seen us approaching, but he’s chosen to stay all aloof, gazing into space and blatantly trying to look cool and dangerous. I will concede that he’s a typically good-looking guy, but there’s a darkness to him that’s a complete turn-off. He looks up at us through his dark, floppy hair, squinting and frowning, and I wonder if he’s trying to be all intense and thoughtful or just needs to go and have his eyesight checked. He’s skinny, like he doesn’t eat enough, pale like he stays up all night and sleeps all day, and is enveloped in this giant black trench coat, the kind that would billow out around him as he walked. It’s not that I don’t understand what all the girls see in him – I’m not oblivious – but I don’t think it’s authentic.
‘Please don’t be all pissy,’ Erica pleads as we get closer. But actually I think it’s him she needs to say it to.
‘What’s she doing here?’ he asks as soon as we’re within earshot.
‘I had to tell her, OK?’ Erica says. She doesn’t sound quite as determined as I’d like her to.
I fold my arms across my chest. He throws down his cigarette and stamps it out with his foot.
‘I thought I explained to you how this works. No unknown variables,’ he sneers, talking to Erica but looking at me.
‘Louise is a part of this. I can’t do it without her.’
‘That’s not how this works.’
I think Erica’s too nervous – or too enthralled – to argue back. But she stands clo
se to me, and there’s an uncomfortable silence as Jay considers his options. I’m here, and I know what’s going on. He can’t take that away. He also can’t make me leave. He’s not a teacher with a detention slip, he’s just a guy, and this is a public place. And yet my heart is hammering, and all the adrenaline is confusing. Do I want to fight him, or do I want to run away?
‘So, Jay, this is Louise. And Louise, this is Jay.’ I don’t think I’ve ever seen Erica look or sound so awkward.
He just stares at me, unsure where to go next and daring me to make a move.
‘So, Erica says you’re a Vigil,’ I start. I try my hardest not to stammer it, but I’m sure that I sound pretty pathetic anyway. Confrontations are definitely not my forte. Besides which, I’m now wondering if he has any superpowers of his own. What if he could vaporise me on the spot? He considers me before replying. I wonder about his true age. Now that I’m really looking at him, I can’t imagine that he’s younger than twenty. How was he even allowed in our school? Was it all just a ruse to seek Erica out?
‘I work for them, yes,’ he finally replies.
‘So what’s going on exactly? What is all this?’
‘I’m a recruiter. I came for Erica.’
‘How did you find us?’
He chuckles to himself, rolling his eyes at what he obviously considers a stupid question. Except that I don’t think that it is a stupid question. I think it’s important, and scary.
‘You must know that I can’t tell you about that.’ He pauses, considering again. ‘All you need to know is that we found you. I gathered intel, I made my reports, and the decision is to bring Erica in for more tests. It’s a process. And Erica is still young, so things might take some time. But in short, as I’ve already told Erica, we’re interested. The Vigils are interested.’
‘And you expect me to just go away now?’
‘Louise!’ Erica starts, amazed at what I can only describe as my ‘balls’. The truth is, I’m pumped up with fury and anxiety and somehow it’s making me far more confrontational than I’ve ever been before.
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