Junior Hero Blues

by J. K. Pendragon

  The elevator had already gone, of course, but I’d seen this particular trick plenty of times in movies. By the way, one of the things they briefed us on at the League was not to rely too heavily on anything you see in a movie. Which was crap: I learned everything I needed to know about being a superhero from movies. Including the part where all elevators have a little door in the ceiling.

  I jumped down, and landed heavily on the top of the moving elevator. I hoped they heard me inside, and were terrified. I know I was terrified enough for all of us. I hadn’t really been able to appreciate before then just how fast elevators go. So anyway, I pulled the little hatch open, but before I could jump in, Jimmy Black burst out onto the top and tried to throw me into the cables. I barely managed to twist around his fist (I’m good at twisting) and grab the top of the elevator to avoid skidding against the wall. I pulled myself forward and used my momentum to slam into him, pressing him up against the wall instead. He screamed and fell forward. I slithered down into the elevator just as it landed and the henchmen rushed out.

  I followed them through the crowded lobby, and almost caught them before Jimmy Black’s hand landed on my shoulder, pulling me around for a punch to the face.

  Ouch, by the way. The crowd around us gasped (there’s always a crowd) so it must have looked pretty impressive. I wiped my mouth, tasting blood, and spat some at him. “Ugh! First you made me swim around in crap, and now this? What’s your deal?”

  Jimmy shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re the one who interrupted my business. Shit happens. You should get a waterproof suit, like me.” He lunged at me, but I managed to dodge him this time, barely. He was fast.

  “I wasn’t exactly expecting to go into the sewers,” I said. “Anyway, they don’t give Junior Heroes waterproof suits.”

  “Junior?” Jimmy laughed. “How old are you?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “Seventeen!” Jimmy laughed again. He dodged a shock wave that I sent at him, taking advantage of my momentary concentration to dash forward and grab me around the neck. “League sends kids to do their work now, eh?”

  “I’m not a kid,” I managed to choke out, but his hands were crushing my airway. As he leaned over me, I realized I had an advantage, albeit an underhanded one.

  I used a shock wave to launch my knee toward his crotch. Jimmy screamed, more from anger than pain I think, but his hands loosened on my neck for a moment, enough for me to slip away, anyway.

  What happened next was entirely not my fault. Having been a victim of a kick to the crotch on more than one occasion, I thought I had a pretty good idea of the amount of time needed to recover from one. I couldn’t have possibly known that Jimmy Black apparently has balls of steel. So when I was looking around for where his henchman with the safe had gone, assuming that Jimmy was still bent over and cursing my ancestors, he was instead grabbing a desk (yes, you read that right, a freaking desk) and swinging it at me.

  The impact sent me across the room and into the wall, which crumbled under me. The desk came flying after me, doing further damage to the wall, and I barely managed to roll out of the way before it crashed to the floor.

  Every single bone in my body hurt. I mean it. Every single one. I just lay there for a moment, wheezing, while a few brave souls rushed over to see if I was okay. I was, obviously. When am I not okay? Well, a lot, but this time I was (relatively) okay. But by the time I got up and rushed through the door, Jimmy Black was completely out of sight, and no one could tell me where he or his henchmen had gone.

  So, I’m gonna skip ahead to the next day, because you really don’t need to read all about me being dragged into the League headquarters and treated for, like, a full-body concussion or something, and lectured endlessly about how I should have called for backup. Then I had to go home and make up a story to my parents about how I’d tripped and fallen into an oven door at work. Like, one of those big metal pizza ovens? They have big doors. I thought it was a good excuse.

  And then my dad was like, “Oh, you need to file a worker’s report about this. You could have been really badly hurt!” I was really badly hurt, and I must have looked like it, but I had to just play it off and pretend it wasn’t that bad, when what I really needed was my mom to make me hot chocolate and, like, sing to me or something. Shut up, you would too.

  Anyway, so the next day I was back at school, bruises all covered up in layers and layers of clothes, like usual, and Kendall was chatting at me while I was trying to pay attention in math class. I’d texted her basically everything that had happened the night before, but she wasn’t satisfied to leave it at that. “What do you think was in the safe?”

  “I don’t know,” I waved her off as I wrote down formulas. “Well, I have an idea, but you’re not going to like it.”

  “Javier.” Mr. Bruce turned around and glared at me. “Do you have something to say?”

  “Sir, Kendall was distracting me.”

  Kendall glared at me. “Way to throw me under the bus, homie. Sir, Javier’s face was distracting me.”

  “Do you two need to be separated?”

  “I need to be separated from humanity.” I ducked down to continue copying from the board.

  “Well, let’s hope that won’t be necessary.” Mr. Bruce went back to the blackboard.

  Kendall poked me with her pencil and slid a blank piece of paper over to me.

  No! I scribbled. Damning evidence!

  She rolled her eyes. Write it in Spanish.

  Spanish is not an unbreakable code.

  Sure it is. Exactly zero other students here speak it.

  Yeah, including you.

  Kendall gestured at her phone under the desk. I have Google translate.

  BC2 + AC2 = AB x BH and AC2 = AB x AH

  U SUCK JAVIER. :p

  NOT RECENTLY. :PPPP

  After class I told her what I was worried about. As if I’d had a choice. It was like that when I was trying to keep my powers a secret from her too. Resistance is futile.

  “I think it’s the tracking chips.”

  Kendall’s face went into an appropriate O.O shape. “Seriously? Why?”

  “Because.” I leaned against my locker, lowering my voice. Having superhearing gives you the unfortunate feeling that everyone else does too and is listening to what you’re saying. “Wolfhound was arguing with Captain Justice about them, after the jewelry-store thing. Captain Justice said that what was stolen could be potentially dangerous to everyone in the League, and Wolfhound said something like ‘Oh, it’s the chips, isn’t it?’”

  “So, what, they’re stealing . . . more chips?”

  “I think they’re stealing something that will help them use them. Like, to locate everyone in the League, no matter where they are.”

  The thought made me queasy. I hadn’t really thought much of having a tracking chip in me before, but that was when I’d known for sure that it would only ever be the League using it. The idea of someone, especially someone from the Organization, having access to every single League member’s location was really scary.

  “Javier.” Kendall sounded deadly serious. “That’s really bad. You need to tell Captain Justice.”

  “I’m sure he already knows.”

  “And what is he doing about it?”

  “I have no idea. Stuff, I assume.”

  “Stuff.” Kendall raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, he doesn’t tell me, I’m just a Junior Hero— Crap, it’s Rick.”

  Rick strode up to us with a big smile on his face, and I was panicking, like full-on about to hyperventilate.

  “Rick!” I shouted. “Whaa— How d-did you know where my locker was?”

  Rick just shook his head at me. “We go to the same school, Javi. Why wouldn’t I know where your locker was?”

  “He’s stalking you,” said Kendall to me, matter-of-factly.

  “What?” Rick’s smile was strained. “Whoa, hey, I’m not stalking anyone.”

  “Relax.” Kendall grinned at us. “Y
ou two are adorable.”

  “You’re not,” I replied. “Go make someone else awkward.”

  “Right.” Kendall grabbed her stuff, still with a big smile on her face. “I’ll give you guys your space.” She winked at me and slammed her locker shut, off to help/hinder someone else’s love life, no doubt.

  I don’t think Rick had ever been more confused in his life. I could tell he wanted to say something, but probably didn’t want to offend me by insulting my friend.

  “Yeah.” I gave him a break. “She’s a little weird.”

  “She’s . . .” Rick paused for a staggeringly long amount of time. “Definitely her own person.” He nodded like he’d just made the most groundbreaking assessment of all time.

  “Sometimes I feel like we’re all part of this, like, high school fantasy fan fiction, and she’s writing it,” I supplied, and his face split into a grin.

  “Ch’yeah, exactly. So, uh.” He kicked his foot on the ground. “Plans after school?”

  “None.” I probably still had a few hours left before I made my quota of fifteen for the week, but after yesterday, I really didn’t care. “You?”

  “I was gonna take a drive up to the point, actually. Watch the sunset. Do you—” he paused and glanced up at me with a smile “—wanna come?”

  So that was how I ended up in Rick’s car again, only this time we were winding up the little dirt road on Freedom Hill. I’d only ever been to the top of the hill once before, on a school hiking trip, and it’d been foggy and rainy and generally gross that day, so we hadn’t even been able to see the view. It was nice and sunny this time though, and every now and then I’d catch a glimpse of the city between the trees as we drove.

  I turned my phone to silent and shoved it in my bag, smiling at Rick. He was wearing a black T-shirt with the school logo on it, and his arms looked great. I wished I could take my sweater off too.

  “You wanna listen to some music?” asked Rick, and I nodded. He passed me his iPod. “Here, plug this in. Find something you like.”

  He mostly had rock songs, although there was also a surprising amount of folk music, and Europop. I settled on a Mumford & Sons album.

  “What’s on your iPod?” he asked, and I shrugged.

  “Well, for starters, I don’t have an iPod.” I reached into my bag to dig out my old battered MP3 player.

  Rick raised an eyebrow. “Wow, that thing is hard-core. Does it take batteries?”

  “Yep. I think they’re dead though.” I checked. “Yep.”

  “You don’t listen to music much?”

  “Not really. I guess I like peace and quiet.”

  “What else do you like?”

  “Uh.” I squinted at him sideways. “That’s a vague question.”

  “Well, give me something to go on, here. I’m trying to get to know you.” Rick nodded his head in time with the banjo. “Okay, tell me something notable about your past.”

  I leaned forward and rested my hand on my chin. “Well, I moved to America when I was five. I didn’t speak any English when I started school. I hated it.”

  “Did we go to the same elementary school?”

  “I don’t think so. You’d remember me. I was the weird kid everyone loved to hate on.”

  “Oh come on, I’m sure everyone didn’t hate you.”

  “They did, for real.” I tilted my head at him, chin still resting on my hand. “You’re one of those people who don’t believe that, like, bullying actually happens, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know.” Rick rolled his neck. “I mean, I believe that kids can be awful to each other. I guess I’ve just never actually seen it happen.”

  “No, because they wait until no one’s watching.”

  “People say mean stuff to each other sometimes, but I always saw that as more of a reflection on themselves than on the person they’re talking to.”

  I gazed out the window. The sun was getting close to the horizon. “You don’t get it. Seriously.”

  “Tell me, then.”

  I glanced at Rick. He was studying me earnestly. Then he had to turn away again to focus on the road.

  “I don’t know.” I leaned back on the seat. “Like, a year ago my parents finally bought me shoes that I actually wanted. They spent a decent amount of money to get me nice new ones. And I guess they looked really fancy compared to all my other clothes, because some kids noticed and followed me home and—” I sighed, and rolled my eyes, feeling uncomfortable “—they knocked me down, pulled my shoes off, tied the laces together, and threw them onto an electrical cord.”

  “Seriously?” Rick’s eyes were wide. “They did that? Did you tell anyone?”

  I shook my head. “I went and got them back. It was stupid, but you know, I didn’t want my parents to know. And then I—” I paused “—fell. Off the wire.”

  “Holy. Were you okay?”

  “Uh. More or less.”

  I hadn’t fallen of course. I’d been knocked off by an electrical current so strong it should have killed me. I’d dragged myself home, smoking and glowing and crying because there was a bunch of stuff in my brain that hadn’t been there before and that didn’t make sense (side effect of the DNA transfer, the League had told me later). And I’d hid everything from everyone with big sweaters and crappy contacts and sunglasses, in no small part because I hadn’t wanted anyone to know about the stupid thing with the shoes.

  “The point is, I never told anyone because I knew if they got in trouble, they’d take it out on me. Better just to try to fix things myself and not mention it.”

  Rick gritted his teeth. “That’s . . . that’s really awful. I’m sorry that happened to you, Javier.”

  I shrugged. “It’s all right. Just you acknowledging it is something.”

  “I feel like I’ve lived a charmed life compared to you. I’ve had some bad things happen but, I never, uh—”

  “What?” I pressed him, sure that he’d been about to say something.

  “Ah.” He rolled his shoulders again. “About a year ago, I was out driving back from a camping trip with a couple of friends, and, uh, I guess something ran out in front of us.” He rubbed his neck. “I mean, to tell the truth, I don’t even really remember what it was, or the trip at all. I woke up in the hospital with my memories all fuzzy.”

  “Seriously? Were your friends okay?”

  Rick glanced sideways at me. “No. The car was totaled. My friend Josh . . . he didn’t make it. They found his girlfriend, though, wandering around like three days later. They don’t know how she made it out. They said they had to pry Josh and me out—” He stopped abruptly. “Uh, yeah, so that happened.”

  “Only a year ago?” I tried to remember if he’d missed school, if anyone in school had even known about it happening. “Were you . . . hurt?”

  “No, just a bump on the head. Vanessa was fine too.” He rubbed his nose. “At least, physically. I think she’s in Liberty Fields now.”

  Liberty Fields Care Home was where Liberty City’s chronically mentally ill went. There were also a lot of older people there from the time in the eighties when the Organization ran Liberty City. Like, people who had been tortured and kidnapped and controlled by them. I’d never visited anyone there, but the place freaked me out whenever I went by it.

  “God.” I stared at Rick as he drove. The sun was lower now, and we were almost to the top of the hill. “I’m so sorry. That’s, like, awful.”

  “It was pretty bad,” Rick admitted. “But, you know, I survived. As weird as it sounds, I feel like I got a kind of purpose out of it. Everything got clearer: I realized what I needed to do with my life.”

  “What’s that?”

  Rick turned to look at me, seriously. Then he smiled a bit. “Play football, obviously.”

  “Ha!” I laughed, grateful for the defusion of tension. It was a bit stuffy in the car, and Rick rolled the windows down as we drove up to one of the parking spots on the point. Over the low wooden fence, Liberty City was visible,
the sun setting behind it, lighting the windows and shining towers on fire. I could see the League headquarters, a towering glass building rising up above all the others. The large L emblazoned on the top glowed in the sunlight, and it seemed to be watching over the city. It helped that it was built on a bit of a hill. I could also see the older areas of the city across the river, picturesque from so far away and, beyond them, the forest following the river down the rest of the valley.

  “It’s beautiful.” I unbuckled my seat belt to see better. “I think I can see my apartment.”

  “My house is over there too,” said Rick. “I never could figure out which one it was though.”

  I leaned on the dashboard, moving forward to see farther. I could feel Rick’s eyes on me as I bent forward, and I almost blushed. I sort of liked it, though. I glanced over at him and grinned, causing him to blush instead.

  “Uh.” He looked uncomfortable. “Sorry.”

  I sat back. “For what?”

  “Nothing.” Rick didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. He rubbed them together, patted the steering wheel, touched the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m just glad you agreed to come up here with me.”

  I fought the urge to hunch forward again. “Do you . . . actually like me?”

  “What? Of course! Why would I ask you out if I didn’t?”

  “It’s just”—I gestured at myself—“I know I’m not, like, much of a catch.”

  “I think you’re gorgeous.” The way he said it, all serious and passionate, sent a shiver down my spine. He was still blushing a little, his neck and face tinged pink. “Really, I even like your glasses and your big sweaters and everything. And I like how you are.”

  He seemed to be having trouble expressing himself a bit, but he charged on. “Everyone else is so preoccupied with school, it’s like it’s the only thing about them. But you seem like . . . like more. Like you’re ready for things to get better, instead of trying to hold on to something that isn’t that great anyway . . .” He grimaced and turned his head away. “Sorry, I guess that’s all kind of presumptuous.”