At the moment, I couldn’t help but notice that Cat had taken her nickname to heart with respect to her costume. Basically, she was wearing a skintight bodysuit that bore a cheetah print, along with matching ears and a tail. In addition, she’d gotten an elaborate bodypaint job done that not only gave all exposed areas of her skin the same big-cat semblance, but also made her face appear completely feline. Truth be told, given that even her shoulder-length blonde hair was spotted, it was difficult to tell where the costume ended and her skin began, and the overall effect was so true to form that – had she dropped down on all fours – someone probably would have mistaken her for the real thing.
“So,” Vestibule murmured, getting my attention. “What do you think?”
“I think you must have misunderstood,” I answered. “Between the movie premiere and tonight, I don’t think your cousin’s said ten words to me.”
“She’s shy.”
“No, she isn’t,” I countered, essentially verbalizing what I’d picked up on empathically.
Vestibule simply laughed. “Okay, so she isn’t shy. However, I was telling the truth when I said she thinks you’re cute, but she was operating under the impression that there was something between us. I told her that it was open season on you – that you and I are just friends.” Then she gave me an inquisitive look before adding, “Or did I misstate the facts?”
Her question struck me as peculiar, but I pushed it aside in order to focus on the statement that she’d made about it being open season on me. Frankly speaking, I’d had a girlfriend until very recently, and we’d actually had a very good relationship. However, things had gotten rather complicated when – after a visit to my alien grandmother’s home planet of Caeles – I’d returned to Earth with a Caelesian princess named Myshtal as my fiancée.
I hadn’t really had a choice; becoming betrothed to Myshtal was the price of a ticket back home, but my significant other, Electra, hadn’t quite seen it that way. We’d tried to make it work, but eventually she’d broken up with me, although there was still a small sliver of hope for our relationship: in essence, if I could find a way to break things off with Myshtal, Electra and I could be a couple again. More to the point, I wanted us to be a couple again.
“Look,” I said, “I’m flattered, but…I think it’s too soon.”
“Too soon?” Vestibule repeated. “It’s been like a month since you and Electra broke up.”
A month, I thought, frowning. That didn’t seem right – it felt much longer. Almost without thinking about it, I began doing the math.
Immediately after Electra broke up with me, I’d gone with Rune – another member of the Alpha League – on an odd sojourn to deal with a pressing matter. Ultimately, we’d been gone about a week (although certain repercussions from that jaunt were still being felt). After that, I’d had about a week to hang out with my mother and grandparents before they left the planet. Following their departure, I had spent the last couple of weeks shuffling back and forth between home and various events on the West Coast. All in all, it appeared that it had been about a month since Electra called things off.
“On top of that,” Vestibule continued, interrupting my reverie, “word on the street is that Electra’s already moved on.”
“That’s not true,” I shot back. “A friend – a platonic friend – escorted her to a function. That’s it.”
“Okay,” Vestibule said. “I wasn’t trying to–”
She never got to finish her statement, as a gruff voice behind me suddenly interjected with, “Excuse me, but I believe you’re dancing with my date.”
The voice was plainly directed at me and was accompanied by emotions of jealousy, distress, and agitation. Spinning around, I found myself facing a giant.
It was another teen, but he was at least a head taller than me and seemed to be made of nothing but muscle that had been chiseled from solid rock – literally. I recognized him then; he was another member of the A-List Super’s teen affiliate – a fellow known as the Biolithic Colossus, whose body was made of living stone. Based on the scarf that was tied around his head and the eyepatch he sported, he appeared to be dressed as a pirate.
“I’m not your date,” Vestibule declared forcefully. “We broke up a while ago, Bee-Cee.”
“Yeah,” Bee-Cee agreed, “but we can still share a dance.”
“Pass,” Vestibule stated. “Why don’t you go dance with that little strumpet you cheated on me with?”
“Come on,” the stone giant said. “Just one little dance.”
He stretched out his arm as if to reach for her, and I instinctively stepped in front of him.
“She said ‘No,’” I stated.
The Biolithic Colossus looked me up and down, as if seeing me for the first time. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but I don’t want to make a scene.”
“Too late,” I asserted, waving a hand to encompass the rest of those present.
Glancing around, Bee-Cee finally seemed to notice that people were starting to stare – in particular, other couples on the dance floor, who were essentially standing still. They were all now watching what probably looked like a love triangle unfolding before their eyes.
He turned back to me. “Maybe I was being too subtle before. What I was trying to imply was that you should step aside, because I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”
“That’s not likely,” I replied, staring him in the eye.
“Okay,” Bee-Cee muttered with a shrug, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He then reached for me. At the same time, Vestibule shouted “No!” and Bee-Cee disappeared.
There was stunned silence for a moment, and then people started cheering.
“That was awesome!” someone said.
“Way to go, Vestibule!” another person yelled.
“Woo-hoo!” crowed someone else.
There were similar comments for the next few minutes, which I initially found surprising. (Later I would learn that the Biolithic Colossus was a bit of a jerk, so his sudden absence wasn’t mourned.) In essence, Vestibule quickly found herself being thanked all around for ejecting a boorish lout from the party.
Not wanting to horn in on her spotlight, I surreptitiously took a step back while she was being congratulated, noticing for the first time that Smokey was standing about an arm’s length away. At some point while we had been engaged with the Colossus, he had sidled close. I gave him a subtle nod, plainly acknowledging the fact that I understood what his nearby presence meant: if things had gone sideways for some reason, he had my back.
Turning my attention back to Vestibule, I noted that someone – a girl in a nurse’s uniform – had finally gotten around to asking her the big question: “Where’d you send him?”
“Someplace he won’t cause any trouble,” Vestibule answered cryptically.
That was good enough for those present, and eventually they went back to enjoying the party. At that juncture, Vestibule took me by the hand and dragged me to a corner of the room.
“Okay,” she said, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot. “Where’d you teleport him to?”
Chapter 2
Needless to say, I was the one who had teleported the Biolithic Colossus. Although teleportation is one of the well-known powers of Kid Sensation, no one present (other than Smokey and Vestibule) knew that’s who I was. Thus, it was only natural for everyone else to assume that Vestibule was the person who had gotten rid of the Colossus.
“I sent him to the tar pits,” I said in answer to Vestibule’s question. “One of the shallow pools, so he’ll be fine.”
Vestibule put a hand up to her mouth, stifling a laugh. The tar pits were a local tourist attraction, ancient pools of sludge where prehistoric animals got trapped millions of years ago.
“That’s great!” Vestibule finally gushed. “I was going to dump him in a nearby lake, but that’s even better.”
“Glad you think so,” I remarked, “although it may have be
en a bit harsh.”
Vestibule frowned. “How so?”
“Well, he’s going to have to go somewhere and wash the stink of the tar pits off – probably change clothes as well. By the time he’s done all that, he’ll have missed a good portion of the party.”
“I’d argue that’s a good thing, but knowing Bee-Cee, he’s likely to just come straight back here.”
I started to laugh, but then noticed that Vestibule seemed rather somber at the moment.
“What – are you serious?” I muttered.
She shrugged. “It wouldn’t surprise me. Making a spectacle of himself is kind of his thing.”
“And you dated that guy?” I asked, giving her a dubious look.
“Don’t judge me,” she growled in faux anger, playfully pinching my arm at the same time. “And if you must know, we were together for a little while, but it wasn’t that serious.”
“Apparently he thinks it was serious.”
Vestibule shook her head. “No, he just doesn’t like the fact that I broke up with him. He’s one of those guys.”
“Oh,” I murmured. “Well, if he shows up and starts creating a scene again, we’ll just send him right back to the tar pits.”
Vestibule sighed. “To tell the truth, I’d rather not be here when he comes back.”
“Um, okay,” I muttered. “I guess we can call it a night.”
I tried to sound sincere, but I was actually being a bit disingenuous. In truth, it was still rather early – Smokey and I had practically just arrived. That said, I wanted to be supportive of Vestibule, and sticking around when she felt compelled to leave would have felt disloyal. However, one look at Vestibule’s face let me know that I had misjudged the situation.
“Call it a night?” she repeated, looking at me askance. “Like hell we will.”
***
Fifteen minutes later, Vestibule, Smokey, Cat, and I were in the back of a chauffeur-driven limousine, which was the vehicle the girls had taken to the party. (I, on the other hand, had simply teleported me and Smokey to the event.) As we pulled away, Vestibule – who was sitting across from me – nudged my leg with her foot, then pointed out the window once she had my attention. Outside, I saw the Biolithic Colossus, smeared with tar from head to foot, racing back towards the party. Simultaneously, the two of us burst into laughter.
After we got over our case of the giggles (and explained to Smokey and Cat what we found to be so funny), Vestibule pulled out her cell phone and started making some calls. With her preoccupied, I turned to Cat, who was seated next to me.
“So, what’s next on the agenda?” I asked.
“That’s what Vestibule is scouting at the moment,” Cat answered. “She’s trying to find another party for us to crash.”
“We can always just hang out,” Smokey suggested. “An actual party isn’t mandatory, in my book.”
“Oh, yes it is,” Cat retorted. “I spent hours perfecting the look for this costume, so all that time is not going to waste. Someone has to see how glamorous I am as a big cat.”
There was a playful tone to her voice that let Smokey and I know that she was speaking tongue-in-cheek. He and I began snickering, and a moment later Cat joined us. The three of us then began discussing our costumes generally, as well as those we’d seen at the party. Of course, there was no doubt that Cat’s getup had been head and shoulders above almost anyone else, and she told a few humorous anecdotes about what it had taken to achieve the look – including the fact that the body paint wouldn’t wash off easily if left on too long.
“Basically, I’m the opposite of Cinderella,” Cat proclaimed. “Instead of turning back at midnight, I get to stay this way for a few days.”
At that point, Vestibule finally got off her phone.
“All right,” she intoned. “The rest of the night’s itinerary is all lined up. Let’s party!”
Chapter 3
I had to admit that Vestibule turned out to be an excellent event coordinator. After announcing that it was party time, she had the limo driver pull over and let us out. Then, after giving the chauffeur explicit instructions on where and when to pick us up, she teleported us. (In all honesty, however, I had to negate my own teleportation power, so to speak, in order for her to teleport me.)
We popped up at what I immediately recognized as a chic, exclusive event – mostly because the first person I spied, standing only a few feet from me, was a world-famous actor. Not far from him was a singer whose latest hit I’d just heard at the costume party. Continuing to glance around, it became immediately evident that we had waded into a sea of celebrities.
Smokey, plainly noting the same thing I did, leaned towards Vestibule and said, “Should we be here?”
I understood what he was asking. Being teleporters, it was practically impossible to keep someone like Vestibule or me out of any venue. Moreover, some teleporters were infamous for popping up where they were neither expected nor wanted: on stage during televised award shows, on the field during championship sporting events, and so on. Thus, Smokey’s fear that we had crashed this party was a valid one.
Vestibule pooh-poohed his concern. “It’s cool. I cleared it.”
Smokey shot me a worried glance, but I just shrugged, giving him a go-with-it expression. It probably didn’t help that we were still in our costumes, so if we actually didn’t belong, someone was likely to figure it out quickly enough and call security.
“Will you relax?” Vestibule said to Smokey, obviously picking up on his mood. “Trust me, it’s fine.”
Smokey didn’t say anything for a moment, then let out a deep breath.
“All right,” he said. “If you say so, but…”
He trailed off, suddenly staring across the room as if in a trance.
“Is that who I think it is?” he muttered.
Following his gaze, I looked in the direction indicated and saw a famous young actress named Alita who, at nineteen, already had her own hit television show and three albums that had gone multi-platinum. (It also didn’t hurt that her first starring movie role had been in a worldwide blockbuster.)
“I think I was twelve when her show first started,” Smokey continued, although it was more like he was thinking out loud rather than intentionally talking to us. “I used to have the biggest crush on her.”
“You want to meet her?” Vestibule asked.
Smokey’s head snapped in her direction, like he had suddenly come out of a trance.
“No,” he insisted, shaking his head. “I couldn’t. I don’t–”
“Come on,” Vestibule said, ignoring his protests and grabbing his hand. A moment later, she was dragging him across the room.
Unexpectedly, Cat turned to me with something I interpreted as a sly look, although it was difficult to tell because of how her face was made up.
“It’s just you and me now, big boy,” she said coquettishly, taking a sultry step in my direction and leaning into my personal space. “No more hiding behind my cousin’s skirt.”
Caught off guard by her shift in personality, I gulped. “Uh…I’m, uh…I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“Sure you do,” she countered softly, lightly stroking my cheek with the back of her fingers as she looked longingly into my eyes.
I blanked on how to respond. As I mentally scrambled for words, I reached out empathically towards her. I immediately picked up on a flurry of emotions, including geniality, a slight amount of teen angst, and a strong degree of self-confidence. But the most prevalent feeling at the moment was a rising level of mirth and giddiness, which it only took me a second to interpret.
Mentally, I let out a sigh of relief, then muttered in a sarcastic monotone, “Funny.”
“Ha-ha!” Cat squealed, laughing merrily. “I got you! I got you good! You should have seen your face.”
“So,” I droned, ignoring her teasing, “do you pull that little maneater act with all the guys?”
“Only the cute ones,” she replied with a wink.
“Come on, let’s see if there’s anybody worth talking to in this place.”
Taking my hand, she then began leading me around.
Chapter 4
Vestibule may have been the more famous member of their family, but there’s no way she could have matched Cat’s ability to work a room. Simply put, Cat had a talent for engaging with people. Moreover, it didn’t seem to matter whether it was someone she ostensibly had anything in common with. Old or young, man or woman, world-famous or completely unknown – she found a way to relate to them all.
Even more surprising, they all seemed to take to her. Of course, the fact that she was still in full feline regalia probably served as a bit of an icebreaker (and a conversation starter), but I had a feeling that – costume or not – people would have found her enchanting. The only other person I’d come across with the same ability to charm others was my nominal fiancée, Myshtal.
As we went around the room (with me essentially following in her wake), I saw her boldly strike up conversations with everyone from rock stars to pro athletes, undeterred and unintimidated by the fact that many of those present were celebrities. She was obviously no respecter of persons, treating everyone the same, and it was more by dint of her efforts that I found myself in conversations with several luminaries whom I probably would never have approached if left to my own devices.
Eventually, however, in working our way through the party, we ended up back where we had started, so to speak: huddled up with Vestibule and Smokey.
“How’d it go?” I asked him.
“It was great,” Smokey replied, plainly trying not to sound excited. “She was very nice.”
“He’s downplaying it,” Vestibule interjected. “This silver-tongued devil sweet-talked his way into an invite to Alita’s yacht party tomorrow.”
“Really?” I blurted out. “That’s awesome!”
“It’s not as cool as it sounds,” Smokey stated. “It was an invite for all of us, and we probably only got it because of Vestibule.”
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