Black and Blue

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Black and Blue Page 11

by Nancy O'Toole Meservier


  Of course, I hadn’t exactly tried to stop her.

  I felt a buzz in my pocket and jumped, just a little bit. I reached down and pulled out my cell phone. A text message from Claire came up on the screen.

  Ugh. These losers, the message read, with a red-faced emoji. I sent her back a line of question marks.

  Her response was a picture. My youngest sister stood in the foreground, her eyeballs, per usual, rolled toward the top of her skull. Behind her, a plate of what looked like spaghetti and meatballs lay spilled over a tiled floor. I could only assume it was the kitchen at Norma’s. A few steps back, a woman dressed in a waitress’s uniform sobbed into her hands, while a waiter with neck tattoos awkwardly patted her on the back.

  “Shit,” I texted back.

  “You’re telling me,” she replied. “I’m not going to be able to pick up Mariah. Can you do it?”

  Pick up Mariah? I frowned. Where was she? I knew Claire had said she needed the car this afternoon, but she hadn’t explained why. We only had one vehicle between the three of us, which was becoming increasingly inconvenient now that Claire was working after school.

  “Sure,” I replied. I wasn’t that far away, after all. “Where and when?”

  There was an unusually long pause before she started typing in her response. What the hell was going on in that kitchen, anyway?

  “The Western Heights tram stop, one hour.”

  I blinked.

  “Huh,” I said aloud.

  Most people visualized Bailey City as split into three neat districts. Poor people lived in the western third, rich people (including Dawn, as weird as it was to think about that) in the east, and much of the industry, government buildings, and tourist attractions in the center. But the actual breakdown of the city was very different. Western Heights was an example of that. The gentrified neighborhood was in the northwest corner, where St. Andrews College sat. It was so far up there that it was practically in the suburbs and driving through it just felt weird. The buildings were a hell of a lot nicer than the rest of west Bailey, and the main drag, Western Boulevard, was lined with a bunch of trendy shops and restaurants.

  I hadn’t driven up here in at least a year and a half. Not since Mariah had stopped dating Kyle Caron.

  Kyle Caron was, to put it frankly, a complete asshole. Like most St. Andy’s students, he never ventured outside of Western Heights for fear of getting infected by our lower-class values. He made one exception—Mariah. Of course, that exception didn’t extend to her family, because in the year and a half they had dated, he had turned down every invitation to come to the house. His excuse was lack of money for tram fare, because he didn’t have a job, but it wasn’t like he looked all that hard. As a result, Mariah had spent most of her time up here, wasting her meager funds on public transportation and buying him coffee. I wasn’t comfortable with her traveling on the tram—you didn’t need to be Empowered to recognize that those things were future death traps—so I volunteered to pick her up as often as I could. They would wait for me at some overpriced hipster gluten/dairy/sugar-free coffee shop. I would park across the street, then lean against the car door with my arms crossed, making sure that asshole Kyle could see me.

  And for some reason, he never said hello.

  Things had gotten worse after Mom fell sick and Mariah had been torn between school, her part-time retail job, keeping up with Mom’s appointments, and Kyle. Mariah had eventually responded by quitting her job, then dropping classes so she could spend more time with her dying mother. Kyle had responded by cheating on her with one of Mariah’s good friends, then ending things while her mom was going through chemo. I had responded by popping the guy across the face.

  Since then, Mariah had avoided Western Heights like it was the plague. Why would she go back there now?

  I don’t know why I did it. Maybe I was just on autopilot, my head torn between the days of Kyle the asshole, my own bruised back, and everything with Sara and Noel, but instead of stopping at the tram station like Claire had asked, I drove past it to that same old coffee shop. I turned toward the window to see Mariah, sitting at a booth. Across from her was an all-too-familiar face. I watched as Kyle reached out and took her hand.

  “Oh, fuck no.” I pulled to the side of the road.

  I got out of the car and slammed the door behind me. Already on edge from the events of the afternoon, I began to see sparks at the edges of my vision. And maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. This didn’t seem like an event for nice, friendly Alex. Faultline was the only thing this jerk had ever responded to.

  I probably didn’t open the diner door all that gently either.

  “What the hell,” I said, as I stalked up to their table. Kyle, still a skinny-ass kid in a hoodie, shrunk back as I approached.

  “Alex—” Mariah began.

  “Seriously,” I said. “This asshole. Seriously?”

  “Alex, you don’t know—”

  “Clearly, I don’t. Is this the person you were talking to on your laptop yesterday?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I can’t believe it.” I shook my head. “Why would you even talk to him, after everything he—”

  “I don’t entirely disagree here,” Kyle said, moving to his feet. “Alex I—”

  I glared at him, and he shrank back.

  “Sir? Sir!”

  I whirled around to see a waitress, a cute, dark-haired, pear-shaped woman wearing thick glasses. She looked all the way up at me and scowled.

  “You need to leave, sir,” she said.

  “That’s fine,” Mariah said, moving to her feet. “We’re sorry.”

  “Did he make you pay for him?” I asked as we made our way out the door.

  “No. Alex, you really need—”

  “Alex,” Kyle said, taking a step forward. “I’d like to take this moment to—”

  “Do I look like I want to talk to you right now?”

  The fault lines intensified around me, glowing brighter. Hell, it would barely take a punch to take him down right now.

  “Kyle, just go. We can talk. Later,” Mariah said with a sigh. A request that Kyle was all too happy to agree with. He didn’t walk away from the two of us as much as sprinted.

  Mariah spun toward me and stuck out her hand.

  “Keys,” she demanded.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “And you can’t seriously think I would let you drive right now!”

  Looks like I wasn’t the only one shouting anymore. Mariah’s eyes bored into mine, reminding me that all the Gage children had tempers. It just took more to bring Mariah’s to the surface than it did mine or Claire’s.

  I dropped the keys in her palm with a clink.

  “Okay,” I said, spreading out my hands.

  Her response was to head straight to the driver’s side door and unlock the car.

  Jaw and shoulders tight, Mariah pulled out from the spot, seamlessly merging into traffic. She drove to the end of the block and stopped at a light.

  I was the first to speak up.

  “Please don’t tell me this means you’re getting back together with that guy.”

  Mariah swung her head toward me. “Of course I’m not!”

  “Then why even agree to—”

  “Because that wasn’t what we were talking about!”

  I blinked. “I thought…”

  “You didn’t think. You just assumed! We were talking Alex. That’s all.”

  An awkward silence filled the car.

  Once again, I was the first to speak. “Green light.”

  A horn howled from behind, and Mariah cursed. She hit the gas, speeding across the intersection.

  “Okay. So, what were you talking about then?” I said once we were on the other side.

  “What do you think, Alex? Kyle contacted me to apologize. For everything. The break up. That…thing with Danielle. For being a shit when Mom was sick.”

  “And before,” I added.

  “And before,�
�� she replied.

  “What is this, some sort of AA bullshit?”

  “What? No. Kyle’s not.” She let out a sigh “Apparently, he’s dating someone new and they’re planning on moving in together. When she found out how he treated me…she was horrified. Didn’t know if she could be with a guy who was like that. Apparently, she’s big on apologies.”

  I frowned. “Not many girls would demand that their boyfriends make up with their exes.”

  “Yeah, well, if you saw what she looked like, you could see why she might be a little over-confident.” She paused then added. “He had her picture on his lock screen.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t believe either of them would think you’d forgive him after all of that.”

  “Can you, Alex?”

  I paused. My sister was a religious person. And unless things had changed a lot since my Sunday school days, I recall forgiveness being a pretty big deal. But damn, there were limits.

  “He didn’t come to the conversation expecting anything in return. He just wanted to say sorry.” She sighed. “But to be honest…I hadn’t realized how angry I still was over the whole thing until I saw him. I thought I had just…moved on. I mean it’s been over a year. Why wouldn’t I have?”

  “Yeah, but…shit, Mariah. It wasn’t like he just cheated on you. He cheated on you with a friend! What ended up happening with Danielle, anyway?”

  “Apparently it wasn’t the strongest foundation for a relationship. Only lasted three weeks.”

  “Oh. So, he cheated on you with a girl who wasn’t even worth it in the long run. That’s so much better. And he was such a shit to you when Mom was dying. It doesn’t matter how sorry he is or what else he may have done to make up for it. Eventually, you cross a line and there’s no going back. And you can’t expect people to be happy to see you, given all the lives that you’ve fucked up.”

  Mariah frowned. “All the…are we talking about Kyle anymore?”

  “Shit, I don’t think so.” I paused, taking in a deep breath. “I’m sorry I was so upset. To be honest, I’ve been a little on edge lately.”

  “I noticed. You seemed distracted when you got home yesterday.” Mariah paused before speaking. “Alex…what’s going on?”

  Silence filled the car.

  “Alex?” Mariah’s voice raised a note in concern.

  “Trust me,” I said, leaning back against the headrest. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Why don’t you try me? Alex, I’m your sister, and I love you. If you’re going through something right now—”

  “No,” I said. “I’m sorry, but this is kind of bigger than my own bullshit.”

  Mariah frowned in response, turning my words over in her own mind. I guess I was being unfair to her, keeping things. And although revealing Dawn’s secret wouldn’t have been ideal, that wasn’t what was holding me back. Mariah could keep a secret, after all. But I didn’t know if I could take my sister’s rejection. The Gage clan was getting smaller and smaller. Dad was gone, and Mom’s death felt like days or years ago, depending upon my mood. If Mariah couldn’t forgive me for everything…

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated.

  Mariah winced. “Well, when you change your mind, I’ll still be here.”

  “And I’m also sorry about barging into the restaurant like that. I thought I had decided that I was going to let my sisters run their own lives.” I paused. “Easier said than done, I guess.”

  “Progress is rarely a straight line.” Mariah shrugged.

  “Although I must admit, it kinda felt good to scare the shit out of that guy again.”

  “What can you expect, Alex. The last time you saw him you broke his jaw!”

  “Can you blame me? With Mom going through chemo and everything? Even the cops didn’t hold that one against me.”

  “It’s a miracle his parents convinced him not to press charges,” she murmured.

  “Well, what does this mean for you, going forward? Are you going to accept his apology?”

  My sister paused before responding.

  “I think so,” she said, then raised her voice over mine when I tried to interrupt. “If not for him, then for me. Since Kyle, my romantic life has been…nonexistent. And for a while, I tried to say that it was about mom or being busy with school, but it wasn’t like there weren’t opportunities along the way. And I think the reason I didn’t take them was because I was still upset about everything with Kyle. I wasn’t ready to trust again, you know?”

  “I still don’t think he deserves it.”

  “Alex.” Mariah sighed. “When you accept an apology, you benefit from it just as much as the other person does. You don’t do it because a person has filled out the necessary check boxes. You do it because you need to.”

  I found myself shaking my head. “I just…I don’t know if I can agree with that, Mariah.”

  The rest of the ride home was spent in silence.

  8

  Dawn

  For a moment, I couldn’t even move. All I could do was stare at Riley, turning his words over and over in my head.

  “I thought that was you, Red.”

  He had eschewed the gauntlets and goggles for a more casual look. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of faded jeans, his feet, clad in worn-out Chucks, spread wide. His top half was covered by a brown leather jacket not that different from Alex’s. As we made eye contact, he nodded and shrugged, as if he outed Actuals on street corners every day. Meanwhile, I was fighting back the rising tide of panic inside of me and losing.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, trying to step around him. “You must be—”

  “Mistaken?” He moved to the side, blocking my path. “Trust me when I say that this isn’t something we usually mess up, Hikari.”

  “W-what?” I glanced around the street. Had anyone heard that? What about that couple a block away?

  “They’re too far away to hear us,” Riley said. “And I’m not looking to reveal any secrets here.”

  “S-secrets?”

  “Kind of our stock and trade, although…” He frowned. “Did you shrink?”

  “You’re crazy.” I turned away from him and began to walk away. How had this happened? Wasn’t “protect the secret identity” the number one rule on my old list? I had been worried about them seeing Alex’s face but had assumed that I was—

  “We spoke to your father, Dawn,” Riley called after me.

  And I froze.

  “Clearly, this wasn’t a recent thing,” he continued. “But ten years ago, Ken Takahashi came to the Forgers looking for help.”

  I heard footsteps as he made his way toward me. Part of my mind screamed at me to run, transform, anything, but another part kept me locked in place. What did he mean about Dad?

  “It was pretty typical,” he said with a lazy sigh. “There were family legends, heard things from his grandparents as a kid, about there being people in your family with certain…abilities. He wasn’t Empowered, but there was always the question of what would happen to his children. Alan and Dawn.”

  “You’re lying,” I said. “Alan isn’t Empowered.”

  “No. Your father backed off before we got serious about an Awakening, but it’s nice to have you confirm that.”

  “That doesn’t confirm anything!”

  “I noticed you didn’t make any denials about your abilities.”

  Shit. He was talking circles around me. And it probably wasn’t all that hard. Why was I so bad at this?

  “I don’t have to listen to this,” I said, feeling my voice crack, my pulse quickening. “I…I have plans. I need…”

  “Hey, Red, wait a second,” Riley said, the casual confidence in his voice all but gone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. You’re just…”

  Just a little lie-down.

  I jumped, the voice in my head sharp and clear. I jerked to my right, half expecting to find the woman from my nightmares standing next to me. Only, the street was em
pty. Riley and I were the only two people as far as I could see.

  “You okay, Red?” Riley moved closer to me.

  “I…yes.”

  As I spoke, I found myself taking a step away from him. Riley frowned in response, then nodded.

  “Well,” he said, his lips spreading into a crooked smile that, under better circumstances, would be almost swoon-worthy. “This…clearly has not been a good week for introductions. My mother, if she ever finds out, would be quite ashamed of me. Why don’t we try again?”

  And then to my shock, he extended a hand.

  “My name is Riley Simmons, and I am a field agent from the Louisville branch of the Forgers. A little off course, thanks to a certain stuck-in-the-mud French-Canadian. Thank you, Marcel.” He shook his head. “Regardless, I hope you’ll forgive my terrible manners. It is, after all, an honor to meet Bailey City’s first Actual, Miss Takahashi.”

  For several second, all I could do was stare at his hand.

  “Faultline,” I finally blurted out. “He’s…Hikari’s not the only Actual in Bailey City.”

  “True,” Riley said, pulling back his hand and depositing both in his pockets. “But given recent history, you might be able to understand why we’re reaching out to you instead. You see, my partner Jane and I have come to your fine city to ask some questions about a recently deceased Actual who went by the name of Calypso. And also to apologize for not helping you out with her.”

  “Help?”

  “You think we’d leave you, an unsanctioned Costume, high and dry with such a big threat? Not our way. The Forgers help out where we can.”

  I didn’t respond, although now that he wasn’t actively attacking anyone, his request didn’t sound that unreasonable. What would be the harm in having a conversation about Calypso? He knew who I was. I could continue to deny him at every turn, but it was clear that wasn’t going to work, at least not with him.

  And had my father really met with the Forgers years ago?

  “What do you mean by unsanctioned?” I blurted out. “You used that word earlier too.”

 

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