“That’s an option,” Alan joked.
“Shut up, Alan,” my dad replied. To the rest of the table, he said, “I don’t see anything unrealistic about what my daughter is proposing.”
“Of course you don’t,” Sophia’s guardian spoke, “You’d feel differently if the tables were turned. I feel it’s important that Sophia continue to attend her track and field practices. The sports give her structure she needs. Denying her that would only lead to a decline in her behavior and conduct.”
Madison’s dad added his own two cents, “I think two months of suspension is too much.”
“I’m forced to agree on all counts,” the principal spoke. As my dad and I moved to protest, she raised her hands to stop us, “Given the events that happened in January, and with Mr. Gladly’s own admission that there’s been incidents in his class, we know there’s been some ongoing bullying. I’d like to think my years as an educator have given me some ability to recognize guilt when I see it, and I’m certain these girls are guilty of some of what the victim is accusing them of. I’m proposing a two week suspension.”
“Weren’t you listening to me?” I asked. My fists were clenched so hard my hands were shaking, “I’m not asking for a suspension. That’s pretty much the last thing I want.”
“I’m standing by my daughter in this,” my dad spoke, “I’d say two weeks was laughable, given this laundry list of criminal offenses these girls have committed, except there’s nothing funny about this.”
“Your list would mean something if you could back it up with evidence,” Alan wryly commented, “And if it wasn’t all over the floor.”
I thought for a second that my dad would hit him.
“Any longer than two weeks would mean these girls’ academics would suffer to the point they could fail the year,” the principal stated, “I don’t think that’s fair.”
“And my schoolwork hasn’t suffered because of them?” I asked. The buzzing in my ears was reaching its limit. I realized, belatedly, that I’d just given her an opening to raise my missed classes.
“We’re not saying it hasn’t,” the principal’s tone was patient, as if she was talking to a small child. “But eye-for-an-eye justice doesn’t do anyone any favors.”
She hadn’t mentioned the classes. I wondered if she even knew.
“Is there any justice here?” I replied, “I’m not seeing it.”
“They’re being punished for their misconduct.”
I had to stop to willfully push the bugs away. I think they were reacting to my stress, or my concussion was making me a little less aware of what I was doing with them, because they were pressing in without my giving them the order. None had entered the school or the conference room, thankfully, but I was getting increasingly worried that my control would slip. If it did, instead of sort of wandering in my general direction or gravitating towards my location, the bugs would erupt into a full fledged swarm.
I took a deep breath.
“Whatever,” I said, “You know what? Fine. Let them get away with a two week vacation as a reward for what they did to me. Maybe if their parents have an ounce of heart or responsibility, they’ll find an appropriate punishment. I don’t care. Just transfer me to Arcadia. Let me walk away from this.”
“That’s not really something I can do,” the principal said, “There’s jurisdictions-”
“Try,” I pleaded, “Pull some strings, call in favors, talk to friends in other faculties?”
“I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep,” she said.
Which meant no.
I stood up.
“Taylor,” my dad put his hand on my arm.
“We’re not the enemy,” the principal spoke.
“No?” I laughed a little, bitter, “That’s funny. Because it looks like it’s you guys, the bullies and the other parents against me and my dad. How many times have you called me by my name, today? None. Do you even know why? It’s a trick lawyers use. They call their client by name, but they refer to the other guy as the victim, or the offender, depending. Makes your client more identifiable, dehumanizes the other side. He started doing it right off the bat, maybe even before this meeting started, and you unconsciously bought into it.”
“You’re being paranoid,” the principal spoke, “Taylor. I’m sure I’ve said your name.”
“Fuck you,” I snapped, “You disgust me. You’re a deluded, slimy, self-serving-”
“Taylor!” my dad pulled on my arm, “Stop!”
I had to concentrate a second and direct the bugs to go away, again.
“Maybe I’ll bring a weapon to school,” I said, glaring at them, “If I threatened to stab one of those girls, would you at least expel me? Please?” I could see Emma’s eyes widen at that. Good. Maybe she’d hesitate before hassling me again.
“Taylor!” my dad spoke. He stood up and pulled me into a tight hug, my face against his chest so I couldn’t say any more.
“Do I need to call the cops?” I heard Alan.
“For the last time, Alan, shut up,” my dad growled, “My daughter is right. This has been a joke. I have a friend in the media. I think I’m going to give her a call, email her that list of emails and the list of incidents. Maybe pressure from the public would get things done.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that, Danny,” Alan replied, “If you recall, your daughter assaulted and battered Emma just last night. That’s in addition to threatening her, here. We could press charges. I do have the surveillance video from the mall, and a signed slip from that teenage superheroine, Shadow Stalker, that verifies she saw it happen, in what could have provoked a riot.”
Oh. So that was why Emma had been so confident. She and her dad had an ace up their sleeve.
“There’s mitigating circumstances,” my dad protested, “She has a concussion, she was provoked, she only hit Emma once. The charges wouldn’t stick.”
“No. But the case could drag out for some time. When our families used to have dinner together, you remember me saying how most cases were resolved?”
“Decided by who ran out of money first,” my dad said. I felt him clutch me a fraction tighter.
“I may be a divorce attorney, but the same applies in a criminal case.”
If we went to the media, he’d press assault charges just to drain our bank accounts.
“I thought we were friends, Alan,” my dad replied, his voice strained.
“We were. But at the end of the day, I have to protect my daughter.”
I looked at my teachers. At Mrs. Knott, who I’d even say was my favorite teacher, “Don’t you see how fucked up this is? He’s blackmailing us right in front of you, and you can’t understand that this manipulation has been going on from the beginning?”
Mrs. Knott frowned, “I don’t like the sound of it, but we can only comment and act on what happens in school.”
“It’s happening right here!”
“You know what I mean.”
I pulled away. In my haste to get out of that room, I practically kicked down the door. My dad caught up to me in the hallway.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Whatever,” I said, “I’m so not surprised.”
“Let’s go home.”
I shook my head, turning away, “No. I need to get gone. Going. I won’t be home for dinner.”
“Stop.”
I paused.
“I want you to know I love you. This is far from over, and I’ll be waiting for you when you come home. Don’t give up, and don’t do anything reckless.”
I hugged my arms close to my body to get the shaking in my hands to stop.
“‘Kay.”
I left him behind and headed out the front door of the school. Double checking he hadn’t followed and that he couldn’t see me, I retrieved one of the disposable cell phones from the front pocket of my sweatshirt. Lisa picked up partway through the first ring. She always did – one of her little quirks.
“Hey. How did it
go?”
I couldn’t find the words for a reply.
“That bad?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you need?”
“I want to hit someone.”
“We’re gearing up for a raid on the ABB. We didn’t bother you about it because you’re still recovering, and I knew you’d be busy with your meeting at school. Want in?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. We’re splitting up for a bunch of coordinated attacks with some of the other groups. You’d be with, um, one second-”
She said something, but it wasn’t directed at the phone. I heard the bass of Brian replying.
“Every team is splitting up, bit complicated to explain, but yeah. Bitch would be going with one or two members of the Travelers, some of Faultline’s crew and probably some of Empire Eighty-Eight. It would do a lot for our peace of mind if you went with. ‘specially with the tension between us and the Empire.”
I could see the bus at the far end of the street, approaching.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
5.05
Time was short, so Tattletale was in my room of the loft while I changed.
“The idea Coil proposed was that we would mix and match the members of the groups, so nobody can pull anything without their teammates being hostage to the other groups.”
“Gotcha,” I replied. I busied myself double checking the items from the utility compartment. Tattletale reached in and snatched the cell phone. “Hey?”
“One sec. I’m programming the alarm on your phone. When it goes off, an hour from now, you call Grue. Then again an hour later, if we’re out that long. We’ll all be checking in with each other every fifteen minutes or so. If someone doesn’t pick up, assume they’re in trouble.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
“If you can’t pick up the phone for whatever reason, be sure to call back at the first opportunity. Let us know you’re fine.”
“Got it.” I hiked the cloth portion of my armor up around my waist, then began sliding my arms through the sleeves. The cloth part was form-fitting, and all in all, putting it on was like putting on a pair of full-body pantyhose. Not prone to tear, of course, but like the pantyhose, it always took longer than I expected.
“We’ll be using a password system every time we check in, in case you’re taken hostage and forced to answer a call. Two parts to it. The first part is simple, you give the other person the first letter of one of our names, the other person replies with the last. If it winds up being a longer night, move on to other people we know.”
“So if I said L?”
“A. How would you respond to B?”
“N.”
“Exactly. The second part is color based. When you’re replying to a call, name an object that’s a certain color. Think traffic lights. Green for go, everything is okay. Yellow for warning, if you aren’t sure about things. Red for stop, need help. It lets you keep us informed without tipping off the capes that are with you.”
“Okay.”
“I’m going with the group that has Faultline, Trickster, and the Traveller’s shapeshifter. I’m betting there will be a few from Empire Eighty-Eight and some of Coil’s soldiers, too.”
“Shapeshifter?”
“That gorilla with four arms, from the other night. Only I don’t know exactly what she is, yet, but she’s not quite a shapeshifter. I’m hoping to get a better sense of her abilities by spending some time around her. Ditto for Trickster. Regent’s coming with so we’re contributing some firepower. Kind of.”
“Don’t you and Faultline have issues with each other?”
Lisa grinned, “Yup. It’s going to be fun, pushing her buttons, knowing she can’t touch me.”
I winced. “Just be careful. What’s Grue doing?”
“Another group. All in all, we’ll be coordinating to strike three locations simultaneously with three different teams, overwhelming force. Hit hard, hit fast, get out of there. If you aren’t making much of a dent, don’t sweat it. Unless something goes horribly wrong, we’ll repeat this process a few more times over the next couple of days.”
There was a knock on the door. Brian called from the other side, “Just about ready?”
I zipped up the back of my costume and strapped my armor in place over it, then opened the door, mask in one hand, “Ready.”
Brian, like me, was costumed but didn’t have any headgear on. “You sure you’re up to this? You’re recovered from the knock you took to the head?”
“No,” I admitted, “Not entirely. But I’m pissed, and I think I’ll be less okay in the long run if I don’t go out and vent somehow.”
He paused, as if he were thinking things over, “Okay. You going to be alright dealing with Bitch on your own?”
I frowned, “I’ll manage somehow.”
“Don’t show her any weakness, or she won’t let up on you.”
“I figured as much,” I agreed. As we headed for the stairs, I mused that maybe Bitch and I were more on the same page today. I was pissed at life in general, feeling just a bit off kilter in a way that wasn’t one-hundred-percent the concussion.
I pulled on my mask as we headed outside. There was a nondescript van pulled over in front of the door, blocking line of sight to the rest of the street. Bitch and Regent were already inside, waiting.
“Hey dork,” Regent greeted me. He was in costume, typical except for the shirt he was wearing – other nights it had been white, but it was a dark gray today. It was still the same slightly elaborate, puffy renaissance fair style of clothing, though.
“You can call me Skitter. I won’t mind.”
“That’s alright,” he answered. There was a note of humor in his voice, which I took to mean he was just having fun at my expense. I resolved to ignore him.
Bitch just stared angrily at me. It was so intense I had to look away. So much for being on the same page.
The interior of the van had benches on either side. Since we were in a rush, I had only a second to decide whether I wanted to sit next to Regent – and be facing Bitch for the duration of the trip – or plop myself down next to her and the dogs. I opted for the former, hoping I wouldn’t manage to do or say anything that would get us off on a bad start for the evening.
Tattletale sat in the passenger seat, with Grue driving. As the van pulled onto the road, she called back to us, “Hey, Bitch, Skitter. We’re dropping you off first, but you’re going to have to walk to the meeting place. You might be short on time, so walk fast. Cool?”
Bitch shrugged, “Works.”
“No complaints,” I added my own two cents. I could see where it would be advantageous – Bitch would have time to get her dogs beefed up, and I could gather some bugs. Besides, it gave us something to do – if we had to stand idle for a few minutes, I was pretty sure it would only increase the chances of Bitch finding a reason to pick a fight with me or one of the other villains.
Remembering my bugs, I took a few seconds to extend my powers outward and begin gathering them. I was surprised at how far my reach was extending. I generally measured things in city blocks – I’ve never been good at eyeballing distance – and I would say my range usually sat at around two blocks. Today I was reaching just shy of three and a half.
“Hey Tattletale?” I asked.
“‘Sup?”
“Two questions.”
“Go for it.”
“What general direction is the spot you’re dropping me off? Need to know where to send the bugs.”
“Northwest.”
I glanced out the tinted windows of the van to judge which direction we were going, then began giving commands to the bugs that fell within my reach.
“Second question. Um. My power’s a fair bit stronger today. Not sure about technique, but I’m extending a lot further. Any idea why?”
“Can’t say. Sorry, I could usually try to figure it out, but I’m focusing on other things right now. If you think it’s really crucial-”
“Pun intended?” Regent mused.
“What?”
“Guess not. Nevermind,” he chuckled a little.
Bitch was using her power on her dogs. It was really my first opportunity seeing it happen from the beginning. It was like seeing a sausage split its casing, only the casing was fur and skin. Where the rifts appeared, it wasn’t just muscle spilling out, but spears and ridges of bone. Some of the exposed muscle shriveled into scaly growths. Yet they kept growing to the point the back of the van was feeling crowded. Where did that mass come from? Was it pulled out of thin air, or was she drawing in some kind of energy and converting it into matter?
For that matter, if my brain was a radio tower of sorts, pinging every bug for their locations on a near-constant basis and sending them instructions to override their own brains… where was the energy to keep that up coming from?
It was a little disconcerting to think about.
When Grue stopped the van to let us out, I realized why we were walking. Our stop was a bridge with bus stations on either side. Problem was, it seemed the ABB had decided to cut off this route – the bridge had been reduced to rubble. Large orange and black detour signs with blinking lights barred entry to the shattered bridge, and similar measures had been used to cordon off the piles of rubble below.
Tattletale leaned out the open window and pointed, “See that tower, there? Looks like a lighthouse? It’s an old tourist shop that closed down a decade ago. It’s where the Merchants – Skidmark and his crew of dealers – hung out, before the ABB expanded and forced them out. You’re supposed to meet the others there.”
I looked and saw the building she was pointing at. It didn’t look much like a lighthouse, but whatever. “Gotcha.”
“Go,” Brian said, “Good luck.”
Bitch whistled for her dogs, and we headed for the stairs. We’d have to head down, across the street and back up to get where we needed to be.
It was weird, picking our way through the rubble of the destroyed bridge to cross the street. You didn’t usually cross the road like this, and the streets were deserted here. The dogs seemed to like the experience though. I saw Judas’ tail wagging as he hopped from one slab of road to another.
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