Turnabout

by Melissa Wong

  “I can’t believe my sister would embarrass me like this, in front of the Princess of Darvori!” Vetrina sobbed, “She’s done this before—gotten in over her head then called me in to rescue her before abandoning her post. When will she learn that her compassionate older sister won’t always be there to save her?”

  They both turned away from the screen as Vetrina continued talking.

  “You know, with Tana gone we’ll need a new child,” Cretora said.

  “I know, but I—oh. You said gone, not run away. Do you suspect something?”

  “I’m not sure. All I know is that we’ll need to get Clokua down here if we’re going to get any answers.”

  “Alone,” Criatan added.

  “Yes, alone.”

  They turned back towards the screen, where Vetrina was still going on about how irresponsible her sister was. Criatan cut her off.

  “Clokua,” he snapped, “We need you to come down here as soon as you can. I’ll send you the coordinates to our base here on the surface.”

  Vetrina clutched Clokua to herself, smashing him against her chest. “But I need him here to help me catch the Feline Warriors!” she cried.

  “Vetrina, we’re in a crisis without Tana—we need him more than you do,” Cretora told her. “He needs to take on her role if our plan is to go off without a hitch.”

  “But—” Vetrina pouted.

  “Enough! You have two Earth weeks in which to uncover the Feline Warrior’s identities. If you fail, you’ll find yourself in a worse predicament than your sister,” Cretora growled, “Remember, you work for us. Do not forget your place!”

  “Yes, Princess Cretora,” she said, visibly cowed. “I will not fail you.”

  Cretora terminated the communication and stalked over to the couch, picking Star up from his spot and draping him over her shoulders. He noticed she wore him whenever she was angry or agitated, and he hadn’t seen her do it since they first took over the house. Vetrina must have really gotten under her skin.

  “Who does that Kaheenian trash think she is!” Cretora fumed, “Speaking to me as if we are equals!”

  She ran her fingers over the scales on his head, across the pattern that looked like a star if you squinted hard enough. He felt her anger ease a bit, and noticed that his gaze was lingering on her lips.

  “I don’t think Vetrina is telling us the whole truth,” he said as she paced, “We were rash to hire her without checking her credentials, but wouldn’t Tana have warned us if she was untrustworthy?”

  “You think Vetrina is covering for her sister?”

  “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

  “At this point our plan is the fallback for if Vetrina fails, so we need to make sure it’s absolutely perfect. And for that we’ll need Clokua,” Cretora said.

  “We can still trust Clokua, right?”

  “I believe so. He’s designed to be trustworthy—he has no capacity for emotions other than fear, and does not know how to lie.”

  Criatan was finding it difficult to focus. No matter how innocuously she moved, he found himself staring at her, his heart beating as if it wanted to leap from his chest. The way her skirt hung off her hips, or the way Star kept causing her blouse to slip off her shoulder, baring it. Even the way her human hair color and style framed her small, round face so perfectly—all of it was incredibly distracting. In fact, he was certain he hadn’t even heard the last thing she’d said because he was so focused on her physical form. These human feelings were terrible—he’d been able to keep them in check right up until she had pressed her mouth against his. After that, every system in this wretched thing had gone crazy! Was she having the same problem?

  “Damn it!” she groused, “We’ll have to start all over with his persona, too. And we’ll need a reason for her to have vanished so suddenly.”

  “Uh huh,” he said, memories of their kiss preoccupying his thoughts.

  Chapter 2

  Invite Only

  Melissa shut the front door and dropped her backpack on the first step of the stairs as she walked by them, too exhausted to even consider taking it up to her room.

  “AJ, you home yet?” she yelled. There was no response as she walked into the kitchen, so she pulled a grapefruit-flavored water from the fridge before slipping off her shoes and flopping onto the couch.

  “And now to watch my show,” she declared, reaching for the remote. While she waited for the TV to boot up she opened her drink and took a sip, laying back against the plush cushions and plunking her socked feet on the coffee table. The first thing she saw was Tim Watsinson, and he appeared to be outside Comics N’ Stuff. Her interest was piqued, the new episode of her anime forgotten as she watched.

  “—the owner reports that the action figures have been flying off the shelves since he reopened the store.”

  “That was fast,” she commented.

  “There are two types—one for the kids with four points of articulation and changeable outfits,” the shop owner said, holding up a blue-suited figure. It took a few seconds to sink in that it was supposed to be her. It had bright blonde hair, and reminded her of the fashion dolls she’d played with as a kid.

  “Can you switch the clothes with any other doll of the same size? Like for instance, Rosie dolls?”

  “I cannot comment on that, for legal reasons,” the shop owner said, nodding furiously at the camera, “But if you were to do that in the privacy of your own home, then no lawyers are gonna stop you.”

  It was an especially weird feeling, hating a doll that was meant to be you. She picked up her phone, intending to see who had made them. Maybe she could pose as a fan and send a strongly worded email indicating that their designs weren’t accurate.

  “And what are the other kind of figures?” Tim asked.

  “These ones are the collector’s edition,” the shop owner said, picking up a much larger box. “Fully sculpted and no moving parts, but a high level of detail. And hand-painted—I made sure they were hand-painted!”

  Her phone dropped from her hand and hit the couch as she gawked at the quality of the statue. It was her again, but the amount of care that had gone into the original sculpture was evident in the way the tails of her wrist scarves were rendered in dreamy fluid motion, and how the tongue of her boots—and the boots themselves—weren’t just painted on her leg. She could even see little folds in the suit near her waistband. The hair color was off again, and the suit details were wrong, but that didn’t matter.

  “These are absolutely incredible! Hold that up to the camera—take a look at that! How much do these retail for?” Behind Tim the store looked packed to the brim with customers, and two kids ran past him, shrieking with joy as they each held a different colored box over their head.

  “This one here will set you back a good four-hundred dollars,” the owner said as if that were a completely normal price for a piece of sculpted resin the size of her forearm, “But the little doll ones are only fifteen bucks each!”

  “That’s a good value seeing as how you’re the only place in the city selling these right now.”

  “I have exclusivity on the statues right now—they were made especially for this store here.”

  “Who’s the most popular figure so far?” Tim asked, pushing his glasses up his nose. He looked like he was sweating a bit. It had to be gross in there, all those people in that tiny store!

  “Green Jaguars have been flying off the shelf since early this morning—they’re real popular with the boys.”

  “What? He’s new!” Melissa shouted at the TV. “What about me, the leader? I’ve been around the longest!”

  “You specifically mentioned boys—what about with girls? Are they also buying these?”

  “Actually, the pink one is very popular with girls and collectors,” the owner said smugly, “That one was a rush addition on account of being a new character and all, but I think it’s the best one all around.”

  Tim picked up a box and glanced at the back.
“You mean Pink Ocelot?”

  “Yeah, that one. They did a bang up job on it!”

  “Well, as you at home can see, the Feline Warriors are growing in popularity every day despite the millions of dollars in damages their battles cost the city.”

  “They’re defending us from aliens, you tool!” a teenager in the background shouted at him.

  “The government should help out,” another patron yelled from off-camera, “Like FEMA or something. Talk about that!”

  “This isn’t really that kind of story...” Tim replied nervously.

  “Why not?” someone else demanded.

  “I’m donating ten percent of my proceeds from sales of these figures directly to the city of Sweet Step to help ‘em rebuild places that got damaged,” the owner said, grabbing the microphone and pulling it to his mouth, “So if you want a figure, come down and buy it now before it ends up twice the price on some shady auction site!”

  “A-As you can see, I snagged a few for my own kids,” Tim Watsinson said, recovering his control as he held two boxes of the standard figure up for the camera. One was of Purple Tiger, the other of White Lion. “So get them while they’re still here, and you can help Sweet Step out as well. I’m Tim Watsinson reporting live from Comics N’ Stuff at the Sycamore Shopping Plaza. Back to you in the studio, Leslie.”

  She changed the input on the TV, her good mood soured.

  “Actually, the pink one is very popular,” she ranted in a mocking baritone of the owner’s gruff voice. “Why the hell is he popular with girls? They don’t know anything about him except that he wears pink!”

  The door opened as AJ let himself inside, his backpack dropping to the tile of the entryway with a thud. “Dude, I can hear your loud ass yelling from outside. What’re you mad about now?”

  “Cobalt is the most popular Feline Warrior toy with girls!” she cried.

  “Wow, you must want him bad if it bothers you that much.”

  “Don’t start that with—”

  She was interrupted by a stack of papers striking her head, the individual pieces rustling loudly as they slid against one another on their way to the floor. She turned angrily through the envelopes and fliers looking for the culprit, who was standing behind the sofa with a stupid grin on his face.

  “I got the mail!” he yelped before taking off toward the stairs, bounding up them two at a time.

  “AJ, you brat!” she shouted over the sound of his door slamming shut.

  Melissa sighed and bent over, picking up the envelopes and advertisements so that she could sort them. Why didn’t anyone listen to what she was saying? They all acted like it was inevitable that they’d end up together. Why couldn’t Cobalt just move on and get a girlfriend already?

  At that moment she got a sudden sharp pain in her chest, and she clutched at her shirt. It vanished as soon as she focused on it, and she sat upright again, confused. Grapefruit was acidic, but it shouldn’t cause anything like that! Was it her injury? No, that was weeks ago, and everything had seemed fine at her follow-up appointment. Maybe it was stress? She did have a math test coming up that she wasn’t entirely certain she’d pass...

  Melissa began going through the mail again. It was a small comfort that whomever had the bright idea to make algebra part of the standard middle school curriculum was long dead by this point. What was wrong with using a calculator? Everyone had one in their pocket nowadays!

  She picked up an oversize envelope, holding it loosely in both hands. It was heavier than usual, slightly fuzzy and ecru—a combination only used for invitations. There was no return address, and it was made out only to their last name. She flipped it over to find a golden seal on the back reinforcing the flap. Fancy!

  “Someone’s having a wedding,” she said excitedly, singsonging the last word. Weddings were always fun—well, receptions were at any rate. “And it’s addressed to the family, so I guess no one will mind if I peek at who the lucky couple is...”

  She broke the seal, visions of dancing, sparkling cider, and multi-tiered cakes running through her head.

  “Christopher and Christina Claravon formally request your presence...” she read, the words not sinking in until she had gotten a bit down the line.

  She did a double-take. What the hell?

  She held the invite out at arm’s length as a weird, high-pitched keening sound filled the room. It was her, she realized, screaming through clenched teeth.

  AJ’s door at the top of the stairs opened. “Why are you making that god-awful sound? Were all the figurines of you melted down in protest of your ugly face?”

  “Criatan and Cretora are having a huge party—and we’re specifically invited!”

  “Aw, fuck,” he groaned. “Do they know we’re Feline Warriors?”

  “I don’t know! I’m gonna call the others and see if they got them too.”

  “Okay, lemme know what’s up when you’re done. I’m gonna go back to my game.”

  “AJ, you are the laziest—” she was cut off by his door slamming shut again.

  Melissa snapped a photo of the invite and had just sent it when the phone rang in her hands. She almost dropped it again, but quickly recovered and answered.

  “I just texted you!” she cried, wondering how Sable could respond so fast.

  “You did?”

  “Yeah, isn’t that why you called?”

  “No. How’d you pick up so fast?”

  “I was holding the phone,” Melissa said, “And you have a custom ringtone. All the Warriors do.”

  “Hey, that’s a good idea. Ah, your text just came through! Let me take a look...”

  Her voice sounded weird, as if she were in a tunnel. “Sable, am I on speaker?”

  “Yeah. Don’t worry—no one’s home right now. Oh crap! You got one too.”

  “Dammit, I was hoping we’d received an invite because of my mom’s job,” Melissa growled. “Now we have to assume all us Warriors got one, or all of Sweet Step did. Could they even fit the whole city in that house?”

  “Hold on, someone’s on my other line,” Sable said, the sound of static indicating that she’d picked up the phone. “Oh wait, it’s Sara. I’ll merge the calls.”

  “Wait, you don’t have to—” she protested. It was too late; the soft click followed by dead air indicated she’d already gone to the other line. Soon there was another click and she could hear something in the background that sounded like little kids.

  “Is everyone here?” Sable asked.

  “Am I... on speakerphone?” Sara asked hesitantly.

  “It’s okay—I’m by myself, but I’m baking so I need my hands free.”

  “What are you making?” Melissa asked.

  “Cream puffs. You have to stir the eggs into the choux quickly, then pipe them almost immediately.”

  “Don’t casually drop French terms like you’re a five star pastry chef or somethin’!” a familiar voice yelled from Sara’s side of the call.

  “Ryan?” she and Sable asked simultaneously.

  “The one and only!” he said. She could almost see the self-assured grin he was wearing as he said it.

  “We’re at his house today because he has to watch his brothers and sister after school,” Sara explained. “Anyhow, something arrived in the mail here and I suspect we have them as well.”

  “An invite to the Claravon’s party?” Sable asked.

  “Aw, what? We all got one? I feel totally unspecial,” Ryan lamented.

  “Hey Sara, you’re good at math, right?” Melissa asked, “Do you think we’re being targeted by the Claravons specifically, or do you think they blanket-invited the whole city?”

  “How is that a math question?”

  “What she meant to ask was if the whole population of the city could fit in the Claravon’s mansion,” Sable called out. It sounded like she was pretty far from her phone now.

  “Oh, well... if they opened up the surrounding grounds, it’s possible that they could fit a couple thousand at mo
st—but that’s shoulder-to-shoulder. It would be more like a thousand or so comfortably on the whole property.” Sara was speaking quickly now, and Melissa thought she heard the slightest bit of an accent come through in her excitement. “The population here is roughly one-hundred and eleven thousand; discounting children and the elderly, that still leaves ninety-thousand people—that’s way too many!”

  There was a sudden slam in the background of Sara’s call, and Melissa could hear the sounds of Ryan arguing with someone. The second voice told someone to fuck off, and there was another slam, this one fainter than the first.

  “What was that?” Melissa asked, running her fingers over the raised letters on the invite as she did so.

  “That’s Ryan’s younger brother, Cody,” Sara explained quietly.

  “He sounds—”

  “—like an asshole? Yeah, pretty much!” Ryan finished with a scoff.

  “I was going to say lovely, but have it dripping with sarcasm. He’s your brother though, so you would know best!” Melissa said.

  “Hey, there are some people on Me-Gram complaining that they didn’t get an invite. They seem to be under the impression the party is for Tana even though it’s clearly not,” Sable said.

  “I thought you were baking?” she asked.

  “They’re in the oven—cream puffs are a lot of hurry-up-and-wait.”

  “Hey, remember when Pinky said he saw a weird woman on campus at your school before the incident with your friend?” Ryan asked.

  “His name is Cobalt,” she reminded him.

  “Yeah yeah—but what if they don’t know who we are, but they do know that we’re in school still, so they invited all the families in town with school-age kids?”

  Sara gasped. “That makes sense because the invite said the party was for their teenage son who is turning sixteen!”

  “So it’s a semi-specific blanket-invite,” Melissa mused, “That might have been the info Vetrina was after. Evil Nina did say that she wanted to find out how quickly we showed up. She was probably trying to figure out if we all attended Sweet Step Middle School, or if we were spread out across all three junior highs.”