I poked the keyboard one more time, just to make sure.
Nothing.
“Ugh!”
Clack-clack … clack. Silence. Rylan’s head popped over the partition. He’d cut his hair since the last time I saw him. It made his ears look a little bigger, but it also drew more attention to the various shades of brown in his eyes. Like a cinnamon stick dipped in caramel.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m not disturbing you, am I?”
He paused for a moment. “Well … yeah. Kind of.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Do you need help … or something?”
I leaned back in my chair. “Or something.”
He stood so he could look at my computer screen. I wanted to close the window so he couldn’t see, but I wasn’t fast enough. Rylan brought a hand to his mouth, failing to cover a wide smirk once he noticed the hand-drawn Wanted poster of Iron Phantom done by a sketch artist at the Morriston police department. Whoever drew it had obviously never gotten a good look at the super. He appeared at least twenty years older on paper, complete with a little goatee and everything. The mark of true evil. I rolled my eyes.
“You’re not one of those weird superfans, are you?” Rylan asked.
“No!” I closed the browser and shut the entire computer down. “That’s Sarah, not me.”
“Oh. Okay.” He looked around us. The dull hum of the computers was the only sound puncturing the silence of the library’s bottom floor, but a few giggles floated down from upstairs. Rylan rubbed the back of his neck. It seemed like he had a time limit before he would get all awkward and silent in a conversation, and I wondered if that had something to do with him being alone every time I saw him. I honestly wasn’t sure if he had any friends at Morriston. It made me kind of sad.
“So … what do you think about the supers?” I asked, determined to continue the conversation. “Like Iron Phantom. What do you think about him?”
Rylan laughed. The sudden noise coming out of his usually silent mouth startled me. “I think he’s an idiot.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. Honestly, he just got here and I’m already sick of hearing about him.”
“Go ahead, tell me how you really feel. It’ll be cathartic for you.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the wooden partition that separated his row of computers from mine. “Maybe he’s not as bad as everyone thinks.”
“Abby.” Rylan looked at me like I just told him I had a third foot growing out of my ass. “He burned. Down. A building.”
“Yeah, I saw it on TV fifty times over.”
“So…?”
“So there’s no proof he did anything after that. It’s just people making up stories.”
He shook his head and started gathering his books spread across the computer desk. “True, but…”
“But what?”
He turned back around, staring at me curiously. “But he’s a criminal. He’s obviously got issues.” He grimaced. “I guess I’d just hate for this to end badly. The crime rate’s high enough as it is.”
The bell signaling the end of study hall chimed. Outside the library, doors creaked open and the rapid beat of footsteps filled the halls.
Picking up my backpack, I trudged past the computers. “Great. Back to hell.”
Rylan followed behind me. “That’s an insult. Hell is far more pleasant.” He held the door open so I could pass through first. “At least in hell there’s no gym class.”
We parted ways at the stairwell, him going upstairs and me going down. My heart swelled with a silly sense of pride as I recalled our conversation. Maybe he hadn’t agreed with me, but getting Rylan to talk felt a lot like coaxing a tiny butterfly to land in your hand or teaching Connor not to crash into the ceiling after taking flight. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but it meant a lot to me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Isaac Jackson pisses me off,” Sarah said over the phone that evening. My feet dangled from a swing in the park near my house while I listened to her find fault in everything Isaac had said, done, or worn since his arrival in Morriston. I’d ventured to the park earlier in the evening to rehearse choreography on the empty basketball court (it was roughly the same size as our stage and posed minimal risk of Connor walking in on me and making fun of me), but my dad hadn’t let me outside without first presenting me with a brand-spanking-new Taser, which was currently shoved in the pocket of my jeans. I wished he’d instead presented me with a brand-spanking-new coat as I rubbed my arms to keep warm. It was only the beginning of October, but the oncoming chill of winter was already evident.
“Like, what the hell, Abby?” I could picture Sarah pacing back and forth in her bedroom, her walls completely plastered with superhero posters. “I know Red Comet’s your brother and all, but he’s still the best super in the country! How could Isaac say that?”
I dug the toes of my sneakers into the sand beneath the swings, tracing a few letters. I hastily wiped them away once I realized I wrote the initials IP on the ground.
“I thought you liked Isaac. Yesterday you said, and I quote, ‘His face makes my pants tingle.’”
I heard the springs of Sarah’s bed squeak as she flopped down on her mattress. “Yeah, well, that was before he opened his smart-ass mouth.”
Isaac had spent our last rehearsal mimicking Mrs. Miller behind her back in an attempt to make me smile and forget how much of a train wreck Hall of Horrors was turning out to be. I wouldn’t admit it, but part of me was starting to enjoy his smart-ass mouth.
“Sarah, Isaac can say whatever he wants because he doesn’t know the truth. And we probably shouldn’t be talking about this on the phone.…” The small park was deserted except for me, but I didn’t want to take any chances on someone walking by and listening in. I’d already blown Connor’s identity once.
Sarah’s long sigh echoed through the speaker. “Fine. Yeah, you’re right, but you have to admit Isaac’s the most annoying kid in the senior class.”
“Oh, come on, he is not.”
“Okay, maybe he’s not worse than Gary Gunkle when he eats beans, but he’s totally worse than Fanboy Kenny and his cousin, even when they try to beat me at Red Comet trivia.”
“No way. Kenny and his cousin top Isaac on the aggravation scale.” I ignored another one of Sarah’s exasperated sighs as I drew a flower on the ground with my shoe.
“What’s his name again?” she asked.
I added a stem and leaves to my sunflower in the sand. “Kenny’s cousin? The hell if I know—”
Hey, Abigail.
My phone nearly slipped from my hand as the swing set creaked. I turned around to find the source of the noise, but nothing was there. No one was standing beyond the park’s fence, and no one seemed to be within the park itself. But I knew it was his voice in my head.
The swings were next to a large wooden play structure filled with tunnels and monkey bars, but I didn’t see anyone there either. I was still very much alone. I must have imagined his voice because I was thinking about him. But even still, maybe it was time I went home.…
“Abby? Are you still there?” I suddenly became aware of my fingers, slippery with sweat as they clung to my phone.
I was halfway between sitting and standing when a whoosh and a loud crunch sounded from my left, near a rusted blue slide. A shadow moved closer, exposing itself in the crisp fall air.
Nice night for a stroll in the park, wouldn’t you say?
“Sarah, I’m going to have to call you back.…”
“What? Why? What’s going on? Abby, I’m in the middle of a serious rant and—”
I ended our call and slid my phone into my pocket. The mysterious Iron Phantom walked closer, cracked his neck back and forth, then collapsed on the swing next to mine.
So do you think I’m responsible for what happened at Adventure Land?
“Get out of my head!” I jumped up and took a few steps back, nervous knowing Iron Phantom could invade my privacy and there was n
othing I could do to stop him. I hoped if I moved away then he couldn’t speak into my mind. Of course any attempts to thwart his abilities were futile. Superpowers superseded logic.
Sorry.
My eyes narrowed at the masked man. He chuckled sheepishly. “Oops. Sorry. I didn’t know you’d hate it so much.”
“I don’t hate it, I just…” I just what? I just don’t like the tickle in my stomach when your husky voice is so close to my brain? I just don’t like that I’m turning into a crazy fangirl? I finally settled on, “I just didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
Iron Phantom hummed and tapped the swing I had vacated. “I see. Well, I guess I just wanted to tell you that—to tell you…” He refused to look at me as I sat back down. Instead, he stared at the empty playground. A car drove down the road behind us, and I feared the glow of the headlights would alert the driver of the super next to me, but thankfully the vehicle continued on. I didn’t want anyone else knowing about the masked man. Alone in the park, it felt like he was my own twisted little secret.
“Pretty depressing, isn’t it?” He spoke suddenly, still staring straight ahead. “Playgrounds in the dark—that’s like some warped metaphor for adults realizing their hopes and dreams died once they grew up.”
“Wow, Eeyore. You have to be one of the gloomiest people I’ve ever met.” I tried to laugh to show him I was joking, but the noise came out as more of a pained squeak. Away from musicals, my acting sucked. I couldn’t pretend to be funny when my palms dripped sweat and my mouth was as dry as a desert. The last time I saw him, he was furious. I didn’t know what to expect tonight.
“I’m sorry for getting angry with you the other night,” he muttered quietly. He looked down at his shoes, drawing a circle in the sand with the tip of a slick black boot. Apologies seemed just as hard for him as they were for me. I was filled with dread at the thought of acknowledging I did something wrong, and having superpowers didn’t seem to make him any less inept at admitting fault.
“I’m sorry for thinking you flooded the subway,” I replied. “And I don’t think you tried to hurt those kids at Adventure Land either, just for the record.” I drew a square next to his circle. A breeze blew through the trees, and I rubbed my hands along my arms to smooth out the goose bumps.
“Thank you. Apology accepted, glad we’re done with that. Are you cold? Do you want a sweatshirt?” He leapt to his feet, towering over me.
“Oh, no. You don’t need to—”
“Hang on, I’ll be right back.”
“Wait, I—”
He was gone. My heart was in my throat.
“I’m nervous to get a sweatshirt from a superhero,” I spoke aloud. “I’m such a fangirl.”
A warm breeze blew across my cheeks moments before he returned, and a black sweatshirt flew at my face seconds later. “Is black your favorite color or something?” I asked, glancing at his sleek suit and mask.
“My favorite color’s green, actually,” said Iron Phantom, winking an appropriately colored green eye at me. “What’s yours, if I may ask?” he inquired, his tone absurdly serious. I burst out laughing, and Iron Phantom picked at the side of his mask while he waited for me to sober up.
“I like blue,” I said once I pulled myself together.
Iron Phantom hummed. “Blue. The color of peace and tranquility. No, that doesn’t sound like you at all.” He sat back down, intentionally bumping his swing against mine. “You should like red. The color of violence. Considering you throw knives at people.”
“That was one time! You burned down a building!”
“That was also one time. And if you must know, I only did it to stall. I was hoping the fire and the investigation and the inevitable chaos of it all would be enough of a distraction to give me time to determine what the microchips really are. I’m not sure it worked out like I hoped.” A teasing grin took over his face. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”
“Who says we’re a pair?” I tried to play coy, but my pulse thump-thumped erratically, blood rushing in my ears.
“I don’t know.” He winked again. “I didn’t hear a thing.”
Unfolding his sweatshirt, I ducked my head inside just so I would have an excuse not to look at him for a moment. I wasn’t very cold anymore. The rush of heat to my cheeks had taken care of that.
I could still feel his eyes burning into my temple. I balled up my fists inside the sleeves of the sweatshirt and held them to my cheeks. Fresh laundry detergent greeted me, mixing with a touch of warm and spicy soap. Smiling, I pulled the sweatshirt tighter, breathing perhaps a tad too deeply as I said, “You smell…”
He looked offended. “I smell?”
“You didn’t let me finish. You smell good. I mean … your sweatshirt … um…”
Yikes. Sentences were great. I really needed to try using them sometime.
His laugh echoed through the park. He patted my fist with his gloved hand. “Thanks. You smell too.”
I quirked an eyebrow at him, my lips tingling as I tried to hold a straight face. “Only like good things, though, right?”
“The best,” he assured me. “Flowers and freshly mowed grass and the smell of the ocean when it’s stuck to your skin after a long day at the beach. Oh, and cookies.”
“And cookies,” I repeated, my voice only half the size as before. His fingers still lingered on my hand.
I glanced away to break the spell. It was frightening being this close to him when he kept looking at me like … like that. I didn’t know what else to do, so I pulled away to take another subtle sniff of the sweatshirt, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
“What on earth are you doing?” he wondered. Oh. So he noticed. “Don’t rub your nose all over it. That’s my favorite sweatshirt.” He reached forward to shove my arms into my lap, looking at me like I was nuts.
I jumped up and thought about running from the park, just to see if he cared enough about his sweatshirt that he would chase me down for it. I never got the chance. Before I could blink, he was standing before me, gently pressing my back against a wooden rope wall.
“You’re not trying to steal it, are you?” he asked, taking hold of the dangling sleeves, which were too long for my arms. “Because, you know, stealing is against the law. Being a superhero and all, I’d hate to … what do they call it? Exercise justice and all that jazz?”
He stared at me, not blinking, not smiling, completely serious. I don’t think I ever gave anyone a more dramatic eye roll in my life. I could just picture it: Superhero 101. First rule: Use Cheesy Clichés in Attempts to Look Badass.
“You did not just use the phrase ‘exercise justice.’”
He shook his head and looked at his feet. “It sounded a lot better in my head,” he admitted.
“Why is it that all superheroes are so lame?” I smirked and tried to push him back a step. He didn’t budge.
“Me? You think I’m lame?” His hands reached for my ribs. I couldn’t move. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
His fingers descended on my sides, moving under the hoodie to tickle up and down my shirt. I squirmed, gasping for breath. Iron Phantom didn’t let up. He only laughed. “Do you still think I’m lame now? Really, Abigail?”
I fidgeted under his fingers, pulled at his wrists, but he didn’t let go. If Iron Phantom’s hamartia was the inability to heal himself, then mine certainly was incessant tickling.
“Yes,” I gasped in between laughs. “You’re—so, so—lame! Stop it!”
The tickling continued. “What’s the magic word?”
The super’s index finger hit a particularly sensitive spot on my ribs, and I squeaked and tried to shy away. “Please! Oh my God, Isaac, please stop it!”
His gloved fingers stilled on my sides. Neither of us moved.
My breathing shook as I tried to steady my heartbeat. Iron Phantom stared at me, his head tilted to the side, not blinking. Was he angry because I finally figured out his identity? Or did he think it was funny that I coul
dn’t be further from the truth?
A low chuckle rippled through his chest, shaking my own because he refused to let me step away. His lips broke into a smile, blindingly white teeth a stark contrast against his black mask. I couldn’t believe how straight they were—like movie-star teeth. Did Isaac have movie-star teeth? I couldn’t remember. That seemed like something I would be unlikely to forget.
The super tilted my head up so I couldn’t look away from his eyes. “What did you just call me?” he asked.
“Huh? What?”
Every idiot’s best defense against inquisition: Huh? What?
“You called me Isaac.” He couldn’t keep the smirk from spreading across his lips.
I then decided to use every idiot’s second-best defense against inquisition: Deny everything. “What? No, I didn’t.”
Iron Phantom didn’t buy it. Damn him. “Yes, you did,” he said. “Do you think my name’s Isaac?”
Of course I thought he was Isaac. A new guy comes to Morriston and defends the city’s newest super at the same time Iron Phantom makes his first appearance. Who else would he be?
But I didn’t want to tell him my suspicions. I wanted him to admit it to my face. “Who’s Isaac?” I asked.
Isaac/Iron Phantom shrugged, looking annoyingly devil-may-care about his potential unmasking. “I don’t know. You tell me.”
I stared at him. He stared back. Unblinking. Again. A dog howled on the next street over, and I jumped. Iron Phantom steadied me, and I looked at his hand gripping my elbow. I followed the curve of his muscular arm up to his shoulder, across his wide chest, to his chiseled jaw. He finally blinked at me behind the eye holes of his mask.
“You have the same build as him,” I slowly said.
“As who?”
“Isaac Jackson.”
“Am I supposed to know who that is?”
“He—” He’s you, I wanted to say. But I couldn’t. I now knew why Sarah never figured out Connor was Red Comet. No matter what you think you know, with a mask involved it’s impossible to be certain. “Never mind,” I muttered, dropping my gaze to his chest.
Iron Phantom sighed and released me. Slowly, he turned and leaned his forearms on the wooden fence surrounding the park. Now free from his grasp, I hugged his sweatshirt closer as a gust of wind blew through the trees.
The Supervillain and Me Page 9