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by Cheyanne Young

  “I’m not crying,” I say into his chest as I push away from his unneeded hug. Geez, not all women are hormone-driven psychos who need a continuous flow of hugs to make them feel better. I plaster a smile on my face to replace the glare that I’m sure was there just a moment ago. “Friends?” I ask.

  “Friends,” he says. My chest feels lighter. He let me off easy, but I’ll take it.

  “So what are you working on?” I pick up a glass slide with a red liquid on it. Blood, most likely.

  “My gene-test project.” He takes the slide away from me and sets it carefully back in its place.

  “Did you finally get some villain blood?” I nod to the slide.

  “That’s mine.” He pulls open a drawer, revealing dozens of additional slides with blood on them. “And so are all of these.” He gives me a thin, lips-squished-together smile. “I’m isolating different genes for analysis so when I do get villain blood, I can compare the two and find my hypothesis, which states that one of them will be different and easily identifiable.”

  “But isn’t there like, thousands of genes? There’s no way you can analyze all that in your lifetime.”

  He nods. “Try thirty thousand. I’m focusing my research on the five hundred genes Supers have that humans don’t. That’s achievable in a few years.”

  “We only have five hundred more genes than humans?” I ask. He nods, and I know he’s crazy smart, but I still find that hard to believe. Supers are so different from the humans, with their fragile, disease-prone bodies. Not to mention their prejudice, wars, and inability to provide basic food and shelter for their own people. If it weren’t for us stepping in to stop their wars, feed their poor, and protect them from natural disasters, I’m certain the humans would have died out centuries ago.

  “Wow,” I say, absentmindedly picking up another glass slide. “I thought we were vastly different from them.”

  He takes the slide away from me. “We are,” he says, tapping his sternum. “We have that whole second set of magnetic veins thing going on, and they sure as hell don’t have that. We’re a completely different species. That’s why we don’t mate with humans.”

  “Mate? What are we, animals? Seriously, Evan. Who says words like ‘mate’ to refer to sex?”

  His tanned cheeks turn red when I say the s-word. I roll my eyes. “Why aren’t you testing our silver power? If that’s what makes us different from humans, wouldn’t the villains have different genes in their power?” I stand a little taller, having provided an insanely smart idea.

  That’s when he opens a second, and third … and fourth drawer of glass slides. “I have,” he says. “I’ve exhausted research on our power. But it’s all worthless until Central allows me to get a sample of villain power.” He swings the drawers closed. “Doesn’t look like that will ever happen.”

  “I wish I had some encouraging words for you, but Central seems to be a total jerk every time I’ve ever asked for something.” I smile, trying to make light of my un-Hero situation. “Which was once, by the way.”

  “I can see why you tend to take matters into your own hands.” The sinister way he says it makes me to do a double take. I’m not sure if I should agree or disagree with his observation. “I’ve thought about faking Hero too,” he says in a low voice.

  A sliver of exhilaration rushes up my spine. “Seriously?”

  “I have enough training to know what I’m doing. I could easily hack into the BEEPR servers and send the notifications to my MOD. I’ve thought about it … a lot.” He shoves his hands into his lab coat pockets and rocks back on his heels, his eyes far away. “But I haven’t acted on it. That’s what makes me very different from you.”

  I smirk, taking that as a compliment. “My reasons make sense though. Why would you want to fake Hero? You left Hero training.”

  “Because capturing a villain with my own two hands is about the only way I’ll ever get a sample of villain power. I spent several years in Hero training and the urge to stop evil still runs through my veins. Although research is my passion, sometimes I practically salivate at the idea of capturing a villain and using him for my research. Hell, I’d depower him myself with a scalpel and a magnet.”

  “A slow, gruesome depowering.” I laugh. “That’s harsh. I approve.” I hold out my fist and he taps his fist to mine.

  “Unlike you, I’m scared of what would happen to me if I broke protocol like that.” He runs a hand over his messy, pulled-back hair. “But sometimes … man, the urge to track down and stop a villain is almost overwhelming.”

  Chills creep up my arms. Every word he said parallels my own thoughts about villains. It’s one thing to want evil to be cast out from the world, but it’s another thing to desire to use your own hands to do it. The yearning to rip away the power that enables villains to hurt is the strongest emotion I’ve ever felt.

  If only the examiners could know what is in my heart. How could anyone suspect that I’m actually an evil villain myself, when my greatest wish is to destroy them?

  Things are phenomenally better between Evan and me now that we’ve had our little talk and hug-it-out session. He spends the next two days showing me around the research facility, (no, those aren’t torture devices). Allowing me to play with his experiments, (abruptly banning me from the massive thing that splits atoms). Explaining things using words I didn’t understand, (electrophoresis?), and just generally showing me how ridiculously smart he is while remaining humble about it all.

  The only unfortunate thing about crashing uninvited at Evan’s is that I have to act like I’m him for the duration of my stay. White T-shirts and black sweatpants with the drawstring pulled extra tight are all I wear, and showering in his shower means I always smell like Winterfresh Mountain Spring body wash.

  When I asked him how a shampoo company could possibly know what a spring in the mountains during the winter smells like, he shrugged and told me I think too much about things that don’t matter. Then I flipped my hair across his face and said, “Do you like my hair, baby? It’s Winterfresh, like a mountain spring.” And he shoved me on the bed and told me if I didn’t like his toiletries then I could shower in the salt water outside. Turns out we really get along when we’re not preoccupied with being jerks to each other.

  I spread my arms open, relaxing on a beanbag as it hovers three feet off the floor in Evan’s living room. I toss my head back. “I could get used to this.”

  He’s controlling the hover device with a remote he made with spare parts from other remotes. The idea, something he affectionately calls the Cloud Bag, is from the collection of inventions he created for kids. He’s dedicated an entire floor of the Research building to what Evan hopes to market as a Toys-R-Us sort of store for Super kids.

  He moves the joystick that came from a video game controller and the beanbag swooshes to the right, taking me with it. “It is nice having someone else here to be my guinea pig.” The pencil between his teeth muffles his voice as he holds out a tape measure from the floor to the bottom of my hovercraft.

  I hold on as he swings the beanbag to the left, stopping just before sending me head first into the wall. He takes a measurement again, marking it on a notepad with Star Wars characters on the front. “I can’t test everything out on myself, and so far I’ve only tested this with a hundred-pound weight.” He snorts. “That’s not nearly enough to test the strength of the hover engine.”

  “Not nearly enough?” I fling myself off the beanbag, sending it crashing into the ceiling. “Excuse you.” I catch it before it hits the newly fixed coffee table on its descent. “You don’t know how much I weigh.”

  He laughs. “More than a hundred pounds, princess.”

  In lieu of retaliating, I change the subject. “I never thought I’d say this because, you know, Research is for total nerds.” I point at him with my index finger under my nose, pretending to scratch my lip. “But this place is cool. I could see myself working here if the Hero thing doesn’t work out. It would be more fun tha
n being a Retriever.”

  “You’ve worked hard to be a Hero—you shouldn’t give up that soon. Besides, who would hire you? Certainly not the only employee whom you just called a nerd.”

  I cross my arms. “I’d think that employee would be honored to hire me.”

  His reply is as instant as the finger gun he shoots at me. “Good thing you aren’t paid to think.”

  I throw the beanbag chair in his face—a friendly, non-evil gesture that makes him grab my hand and twist it around my back, pinning me to his chest. “Ev-an,” I groan, gasping for breath through the ridiculous smile plastered on my face. I may be trained in villainy, but I know flirting when I see it. “You can’t flirt with me during a lockdown.” My eyes narrow. “It’s unethical.”

  He releases me and presses a hand to his forehead, slowly dragging it down so his face pulls into a creepy shape. “Wow. I kind of forgot about the lockdown. I’m a terrible person.”

  “You aren’t,” I assure him. “It’s easy to forget about the rest of the world when you’re here. I do feel bad though, having fun with you while everyone else is stuck in their homes wondering what’s going on.”

  A sly smile nears me as he takes a step forward, pressing his forehead to mine. “I’ve definitely forgotten about the rest of the world.”

  The brightness in Evan’s smile could rival the sun. He’s been working in the lab all morning and he’s wearing his nerd glasses and a lab coat to prove it. He rocks back and forth on his heels, standing just close enough to the television to be an annoying distraction. I slide to the right on the couch, tapping the X button furiously on my game controller. Evan clears his throat. I roll my eyes.

  “What is it, Evan? And if those hipster glasses are an attempt to make me fall in love, try again.”

  “You should pause the game,” he says with all the jubilant excitement of a kid on Christmas morning. I yank the controller to the right—as if that’ll somehow make my character move in the game—and fire off several shots into enemy territory. “Come on, Maci, I need you to pause the game.”

  “I need you to pause your face.” The last two words come out in a grunt of panic as an enemy jumps out of nowhere and shoots me in the chest. I duck behind an old school bus to reload my gun, but it’s too late. I’m dead.

  I pause the game, place the controller neatly in my lap, and fold my arms across my chest. “You have my full attention, Mr. Letta. I’m dead, by the way. I hope you’re happy.”

  He pushes his glasses back up his nose, which is shocking because the smile on his face should hold them up there forever. “I did it,” he says, bending a tiny bit at the knees. “I discovered the evil link in villain blood.”

  His face freezes in this open-mouthed state of excitement as he waits my response. “Oh, and you’re not dead. You’ll respawn at your last saved checkpoint.”

  My head cocks to the side. “How? Do you have a villain locked in a dungeon that I don’t know about?”

  He glances at his feet. “When I washed your Hero suit, I noticed a fair bit of blood on the sleeve,” he says, tugging at his eyebrow. “I … uh … took some and analyzed it.”

  I frown. Why didn’t I think of that? Hell, had I been clever enough I could have purposely snatched some villain blood for Evan after that time I ran into him in Central. It’d be a lot easier and quicker than waiting on Central to come through with it.

  Evan’s impish grin turns serious. “I’m sorry, I should have asked you.”

  “No, are you kidding? This is awesome. I’m excited for you.”

  I was a hot mess when I arrived at Evan’s that day, both physically and mentally. There had been a lot of bloodshed that day, so it only makes sense that some got on me.

  An uneasiness fills my stomach as I glance at my forearm. Nothing but smooth, unscarred skin. Aurora’s men were injured—not me. Because if I had somehow been bleeding too, then—No. I definitely didn’t bleed.

  I shake my head and give him what I can only hope is a sincere smile. “You’re pretty smart with this DNA stuff.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” he says with a smile, as he trails off mid-sentence. The look on his face begs me to inquire for more information.

  I poke him in the chest. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He closes the gap between us with a step, his hands brushing along my arms. His head leans toward me and his hair falls forward, touching my shoulders.

  Hormonal alarms go off in my head. He’s going to kiss me. Oh, my god, he’s going to kiss me. His lips part and I suck in a breath. “If you think this stuff is cool,” he says, lowering his voice, “you haven’t seen my greatest invention.”

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a tiny bit disappointed that kissing me is the last thing on Evan’s mind. I mean, it’s the last thing on my mind. Of course. We’re in lockdown, and my Hero status is on the line, and my friend is dead. So, obviously it’s not the first thing on my mind. However, unlike Evan apparently—the mere inkling of a thought that kissing might possibly be an option, maybe, just kind of, sort of, at some point during this lockdown—is on my mind.

  Aren’t boys supposed to be the ones who only think about one thing?

  Evan twists a combination lock on a small safe shoved behind a bookshelf on the third floor. I tap my foot as I wait for him to dial to the correct numbers. “Looks like your prized best invention ever is receiving the royal treatment as far as storage solutions go.”

  “Actually, it is.” Evan swings open the door. “Smartass.” He holds out a silver thermos with both hands as if it’s the blue diamond from the Titanic movie. “I had to keep it inconspicuous so Felix wouldn’t take it to Central and claim he invented it.”

  “Why would he do that?” I ask, before realizing that he’s our prime suspect in the mystery of how Aurora broke into Central.

  “You know that super-secret material on the breastplate of your Hero suit? I made that. Felix worked here for decades before I arrived and he was used to being the only inventor. So when I designed a breastplate capable of making our Heroes invincible, he accused me of stealing his idea and he ran off to Central with it.”

  “Did you tell them it was really your invention?”

  He shakes his head. “Why bother? Central shut it down immediately, saying we didn’t need something like that for Heroes. Which is bullshit if you ask me.”

  I guess I wasn’t too far off the mark when I was twelve and told Evan to make useful things for Heroes. He’d more than proved he could do that. It doesn’t make sense for Central to shut down these good ideas just for the sake of keeping things the way they’ve always been. Evil isn’t stagnant. Heroes should do whatever it takes to not only keep up with them but to stay one step ahead.

  “I’m going to talk to my dad about this.” I place my hands on my hips to demonstrate how serious I am about this but it only gets a quizzical eyebrow lift from Evan. “What you’re inventing could change the world. They need to embrace your ideas. So, yeah, stop looking at me like I’m insane. I’m serious. You kick ass and you need to be acknowledged for it.”

  His smile is genuine. I know this because his left cheek dimples when he smiles for real. The other smile, the, I’m too cool to actually laugh so I’m going to make this coy smirk, smile doesn’t show his dimple. The fact that he only has one dimple and not two just makes him even more adorable.

  And here I am thinking about adorableness when I should be focusing on the silver liquid that Evan pulls out of the thermos with a syringe and oh my god he’s going to inject it into himself!

  “Evan!” My mouth falls open as he squints and stabs the needle into the inside of his elbow. “What the hell are you doing?”

  He drains the inch of liquid into his arm while gesturing for me to chill out with his other hand. “I don’t have a cool name for this yet, but trust me, every Hero will want some. Also, it has to be injected. It’s gross, I know.”

  Instincts make me take a step backward as I wait wi
th bated breath for the liquid to do something to him. But he doesn’t morph into a gigantic green monster. He doesn’t do anything. Well, he does do one thing. He gives me that, I’m too cool to actually laugh at you so I’m going to make this coy smirk, look.

  Guess he’s going to make me ask. “What does it do?” I fold my arms in front of my chest. “If it’s supposed to make you invisible, then I have bad news because I can still see you.” I look him from head to toe. “Unfortunately.”

  “Ah,” he chuckles loudly. “Banter. Two can play that game.”

  “Two could play that game, but I’m afraid the other person doesn’t know how to, seeing as how he’s currently standing here like an idiot and not partaking in any sort of banter.”

  “Fine, I’ll banter.” He looks me dead in the eyes. “You’re ugly. And stupid.”

  “That’s just insulting me. That isn’t banter at all. You fail.”

  He puts a hand on his chest in mock innocence. “I’m sorry, you are correct. For it to count as banter I must insult you in a cleverly disguised way. Let’s see …” He snaps his fingers and points at me while I try, and fail, to refrain from smiling. When he speaks, he uses what is probably the world’s worst fake British accent. “Maci, are you wearing an invisible suit? Because I’m afraid it isn’t working. Which I find rather unfortunate … because you are ugly.”

  “I have an invention,” I say. “It’s called Stop Procrastinating. It’s where you stop procrastinating and tell me what happens with that juice you injected.”

  He motions for me to follow him to the other side of the room where he pulls out a dusty padded floor mat and props it against the wall. “Ready?” he says. I shrug. “This invention is for Heroes,” he says, taking a few steps back and flexing his fingers. He moves to where the padded wall is to my left and he’s to my right. I tap my foot.

  “Patience, grasshopper!” He widens his stance. If it weren’t for the cargo shorts and plain black t-shirt, he’d look exactly like a Hero with the way his legs are apart, hands in a fighting position. “The ‘juice’ as you call it, is actually a powerful ferromagnetic mixture that lasts about an hour in our bodies before the substance is absorbed into our power and the effects wear off.”