Please Don't Tell My Parents I'm a Supervillain

by Richard Roberts

  That quiet feeling lasted right up until German class, when the bell rang to start and Claire wasn’t in her seat. Sure, she liked to be fashionably late, but not tardy. Not that I had any reason to suspect that something was wrong, except that when last I saw her I’d fed her an unidentified mutagen produced in a fugue state by a child with still-developing super powers. And she hadn’t been online last night.

  My growing panic must have been obvious. Frau Donsky looked straight at me and said, “Fraulein Lutra will be joining us late, if at all. It seems the cheerleaders are holding a last minute tryout, and the principal feels this is more important than mere academics.”

  I melted into my chair. Not only was Claire okay, the Super Cheerleader Serum must have worked spectacularly. I still wasn’t sure it had been the right thing to do, but I wasn’t sure it was the wrong thing to do, and either way it was done. If it was done, I was glad I’d done it well.

  She showed up for Science class, scooting in right before the bell like usual and setting up beside me as we listened to Mr. Zwelf tell us about solvents and disassociation and polarity, with a lengthy discourse on how water was just plain weird. I knew he was right because my super power kept distracting me with inspirations more like hints than images.

  Neither distraction kept me from noticing Claire’s expression. She wasn’t smiling like I’d have expected, but she didn’t look depressed. She half focused on Mr. Zwelf, sitting up and leaning just a little forward in her seat with a distracted and thoughtful air. Even the crossed ankles added to the effect. If she’d propped her elbow on the work table, someone could have carved The Girly Thinker.

  Mr. Zwelf set us to measuring how much salt and sugar dissolved in water. I measured a beaker and then the salt added to the beaker, and wrote it all down, and asked Claire under my breath, “Marcia found a way to turn you down, didn’t she?”

  “Not exactly,” Claire hedged.

  “Come on, spill,” Ray whispered, sliding down the bench.

  I grabbed the beaker he’d been spinning on the tip of a finger and scolded him, “You’re the one who’s going to spill everything. If you break that, Mr. Zwelf will split us up!”

  He immediately looked sheepish. “Sorry. Claire was saying?”

  Right. I looked back at Claire. I gave her my sharpest look. She gave me back a pout, lips slightly pursed, blue eyes staring at me from behind glasses that magnified them hugely. If she wanted to get out of talking about it this badly, maybe I shouldn’t have pressed.

  “I thought everything was going fine. The girls were all over me, and I could do anything. I had to tone it down because I was worried they’d get suspicious. Marcia was fine; she wasn’t catty or anything. I thought I was a shoo-in, but then I asked if I was on the team, and they said I should be the mascot. Mascot, mascot, mascot, over and over, it was all they would talk about!” Lifting her glasses, she put her hand over her eyes.

  I wanted to give her my sympathy. I did. I really did. It’s just that I could see it. Claire, skin painted blue, with that bouncy fake tail and the big fuzzy ears and the fake paws, prancing around the sides of a basketball court with all of her strutting and attitude.

  I put my fists in front of my mouth, but I couldn’t hide it. I started to giggle. “That would be perfect!”

  “Penny!” she squeaked, looking so cross with her eyebrows jammed together.

  “It would! You’d be so good at it, Claire! Wouldn’t she look great in the mascot costume, Ray?”

  He grinned hugely. He could see it, too. “She would. They’d stop the game so she could give everyone the look she’s got right now. I mean it, Claire. We’re not kidding you. You’d be adorable.”

  She so would. Even Ray thought so, and his reaction to Claire in a costume that showed off that much skin should have included a lot more drooling.

  Wait.

  I looked back at Claire. She folded her arms over her chest and gave me the most perfectly put-upon glare. I couldn’t stop giggling, but I managed to squeak, “Claire, can you turn it down?”

  “It?” she echoed. She almost got what I meant, because she looked all confused and thoughtful again.

  “Your power. Can you turn it off?” I locked my jaws together to avoid telling her how much I was enjoying seeing her like this, because I totally was, but she’d rather I think clearly, wouldn’t she?

  Claire’s eyes flickered. She took a very deep breath, and, if I’d needed any further proof, Ray giggling instead of fainting gave it to me. Then she exhaled slowly and deliberately, and, as she relaxed, so did I.

  All the other kids in class turned back to their experiments. Thank goodness we weren’t doing anything with open flames.

  “Is it turned off now, or is it just my imagination?” she asked, slow and cautious.

  I checked. She’d look good in the mascot costume, sure, but she’d have been happier as a cheerleader. That sounded like a rational opinion, didn’t it? “It is.”

  Awkwardly, Claire leaned closer and whispered, “Penny, I’m pretty sure you don’t feel ‘that way’ about me, so if I’m not clouding men’s minds with lust…?”

  “I’d say you cloud everyone’s mind with cuteness.”

  Claire’s mouth opened, but she didn’t say anything. Ray filled in the silence by leaning forward and asking, “So Claire, whose Super Cheerleader Serum activated your super powers?”

  It hit her. I could see it hit her as her eyes widened. And then she hit me with her whole body, yanking me off my feet and hugging me again. “Eeee! Penny! My best friend Penny! I have super powers!” she squealed at the top of her lungs.

  “Claire Lutra, I’m glad you’re having a good day, but—” Mr. Zwelf started to object.

  She didn’t let him finish. She spun around, clasped her hands behind her back, and gave a little bow. I had to echo her sunny smile, despite my sore ribs. She even cocked her head to one side, a single ash-blonde curl hanging over her eyes as she apologized, “Sorry, Mr. Zwelf!”

  He smiled back. “It’s all right. Just get back to your work and talk after the experiment. Okay?”

  Claire gave a little bob of her knees. “Thank you, Mr. Zwelf!” Triumphantly, she turned back to the workbench.

  Claire and I both had our super powers. It had been quite a week.

  summed up the next week with a checklist:

  1 expanded smelter, glassworks, and plastic shaper

  1 utility jumpsuit

  67 assorted crystal batteries

  2 static cling gloves

  1 projectile air conditioner

  1 lie

  1 psychotic episode, courtesy of Ray Viles

  “Ow!” I flexed my hands. Those burns hurt!

  I was getting better at staying conscious while I worked. This thing in front of me would be an expansion of my metal caster. I needed to mix and smelt metals and shape glass and plastics, and this baby would do it. In fact, all I had to do was twist this around to define the dimensions, then pull this lever—

  POOF. Ow! Glass had burst out of the machine and hardened in a globe as designed, then rolled into a little catch tray. Pulling the lever also clued me into a burn way up on my arm. On my arm? I held out my arms and looked myself over. Criminy, I had black ashy smudges and little burned holes all over my blouse and pants. Nowhere seriously embarrassing, but what a mess! I’d been floating so high on inspiration I hadn’t noticed.

  I’d be working a lot with high temperature materials. I was lucky these burns were only first degree, maybe just scalds. I needed safety equipment, and my super power wasn’t going to provide anything that blandly conventional. To get it interested, I’d need some kind of heat distribution network under the fabric.

  Something moved in the back of my head. I tried to lure it out. I might need serious protection. A full body suit with layered materials. Could I composite a metal protective mesh with plastic threads? Embed a modular electrical system to plug myself into future inventions? Goggles were a must, but they’d need
to adjust to my nearsightedness no matter which direction I looked.

  There. I could see it. So many tiny details. I’d just built machines that could help. I fed chunks of plastic and metals into the parts synthesizer. Fibers. I needed conventional fibers. I could feed The Machine my hair—no. I needed fibers. I needed them! I kicked off my shoes, stripped off my thick socks and dropped The Machine on top of them to devour. Then I scooped up a pile of electrical components and grabbed the soldering rod.

  I let myself drift. I had to watch out just enough to not grab the metal threads until they cooled and not bump the heated pressure core with my arm. Needles. Thread. I didn’t know how to sew. I knew where the threads had to be. Stop thinking and just do it.

  I didn’t seem to have any new burns when I pulled my blouse and pants off. I lifted a leg to slide it into the jumpsuit I’d made when the elevator whirred.

  EEK! Bad timing! “Ray, if that’s you, eyes shut right now!”

  “It’s me. Your modesty is safe,” Claire promised as the elevator slid to the bottom and the gate opened.

  “I haven’t been able to get a hold of Ray since Friday,” she added, giving me a worried look straight in the eyes. She had to look me in the eyes because… right. I pulled the jumpsuit the rest of the way on and zipped it up. Then I wedged my feet into the boots. This was unexpectedly comfortable!

  “I didn’t see him online. We could try calling him,” I suggested.

  Claire was ready for that. “I tried that on the way here. No answer.”

  Hmm. “He’s only got a land line.”

  “I wouldn’t be concerned, but last week was weird.” Claire was right.

  I wasn’t too worried. A voice wrenched my attention away. “Requesting permission to see the scientist’s laboratory?” Adult woman’s voice—it took me a second. Claire’s Mom!

  Well… she was here. There was no way to keep it a secret. “Sure, come on down, Miss Lutra!”

  The elevator whirred up, then down again, and Claire’sMMom stepped out. I pulled my jumpsuit’s gloves on, wincing at the hot, sharp pains from touching my burns. I needed to test the flexibility. Nice. Very nice, considering the gloves were layered with tubes and circuitry whose purpose I couldn’t quite remember. The circuitry was so I could plug things in, right? I had little outlets along my arms and shoulders and waist.

  “This is the laboratory of a starting mad scientist,” Claire’s Mom told us in a hushed voice. Then her finger pointed right at me. “You made that outfit yourself. I know Brian’s style, and that isn’t it. And this thing.” She walked up in front of my metal, glass, and plasticworks. Seeing her next to it made me realize just how big the machine was. “Amazing. Look at all those levers. It’s not a joke that the only thing a stranger can operate on most mad-science inventions is the self-destruct.”

  “That’s over—” I clapped my hands over my mouth. Ohmygod. I’d built a self-destruct lever into my smelter.

  To cover, I slipped off my glasses and tried on my helmet. The visor was supposed to… forget “supposed to.” All I had to do was focus on Miss Lutra’s eyes to get a close-up of a striated blue iris.

  “Could I convince you not to tell my parents?” I asked. “They’re rock certain that it’ll be years before my powers fully emerge. I want to build up and bury them in proof that they’re wrong.”

  The smile she gave me wasn’t just warm. She had a devilish glee in her stare. “Of course! That’s why I’m here to invite you to celebrate only the first hints of Claire’s power.”

  I felt my eyebrows shoot up. “You’re covering up Claire’s powers, too?”

  “Half-truths make the best lies, girls,” The Minx lectured in a brisk, easy tone. “We all expect two girls who don’t quite have their powers yet to spend a lot of time together and keep secrets. Claire needs the time to learn control before I throw her at the super-powered world. Everyone wins!”

  Scrunching up her nose, Claire commented, “It’s not hard to turn off my power, but it’s like keeping my fist clenched every waking moment.”

  “Not just when you’re awake. Lucyfar dropped by to congratulate you after you went to bed last night and spent ten minutes watching you sleep before I took pity and dragged her away,” Claire’s Mom added with slyly deadpan amusement.

  Claire gave me a stare of melodramatic resignation. “Mom’s immune.”

  “One day, you’ll be grateful. I couldn’t handle the temptations my power put in front of me at your age, and your power is much more dangerous. It doesn’t seem like that without the boys drooling all over your shoes, but trust me.” Miss Lutra wasn’t saying this for Claire’s benefit. Instead, she looked right down at me again and told me, “You’re her chaperone from now on. Like I said, everyone wins!”

  What? The Minx didn’t want her daughter having the same fun she’d had? I bit down on that before I said it. All this inventing had left my brain raw.

  Claire felt no such restraint and shot back, “You don’t regret anything.”

  You only had to glance at her Mom’s playful smile to know Claire was right. Miss Lutra didn’t look any more guilty as she bent down and put an arm around Claire and kissed the top of her head. “No, I don’t. If you followed the same path I did, I would still be proud of you, but, if I’d known then what I know now, I’d have made different choices. I’m hoping I can pass on my harder lessons and you can have all the fun without the mistakes.”

  Failing utterly in her attempt to sound resentful, Claire snarked, “I’m not going to have half the fun you did. Boys want to pinch the wrong cheeks when I turn on my powers.”

  Miss Lutra stood up straight. “Which reminds me.” A second later, I got yanked off the floor and squeezed in a savage hug as Claire’s Mom squealed, “You gave my daughter her super powers! Thank you so much, Penny! Come on, let me treat you to ice cream.” Serious deja vu struck, along with minor asphyxiation and the certainty that Claire had inherited her Mom’s personality down to the tiniest detail.

  When my feet were allowed to touch the floor again, I wheezed, “Let me put my clothes back on.” I glanced down at the ragged, lightly charred pile of fabric. “And maybe take me home to pick out new ones.”

  A hand rubbed the top of my helmet, expertly making a mess out of my hair even though she couldn’t reach it. Back to “brisk with a touch of playful,” Miss Lutra told me, “I’ll buy you some clothes while we’re out instead. Your secret’s covered, and your parents know I’m feeling generous right now. Everybody wins! I just wish we could find Ray.”

  Ray turned up on Monday. Claire, Ray, and I all have homeroom together, for all the good that does us. There’s no time to talk in homeroom. It did reassure me when he turned up almost like normal. Exactly like normal, except for his clothes. All Ray wore was black today. Black tee shirt with no logo, black pants, black shoes, black belt. Here he was, and I wouldn’t have thought the clothes were weird if I hadn’t been wondering about him already.

  There was no time to talk during math class either, but perhaps there would be while we walked across the street to Upper High. I kept an eye out as I stepped out of the building, and his black clothing made Ray easy to spot.

  I drifted over and fell in next to him. As he gave me a welcoming grin I asked, “What’s with the black?”

  “I think it might be my new look,” he half-answered. Sly blue eyes dared me to ask more. The smile had always been there anyway. Okay, Ray was just fine, and certainly himself.

  Except for the black. “Why black?” I asked as we hurried across the street between momentarily stopped cars.

  “I thought I’d look good in it.” I couldn’t tell if he was serious, except he had to be serious, because he looked good in it.

  Sure enough, he asked, “Do I look good in it?”

  He had to ask that question? What did he expect me to say? To come out and admit that wearing black gave him shoulders I’d never noticed before, and he looked sleek instead of gawky? That I’d thought he was cu
te already, but this made me want to invent a—

  NO, brain, no love potions! What is that chemical? The one like a crystal around a—there, the inspiration broke.

  I settled for, “Yeah, it never occurred to me, but black is your color.”

  He pulled open the front door of Upper High, and as I stepped through he echoed, “Me neither, but it is. Black is definitely my color.”

  “So where were you this weekend?” I asked as I sat down at lunch. “No answered emails, you weren’t online to message, and you never logged into Teddy Bears And Machine Guns. A change of clothes can’t take the whole weekend.”

  “You’d think, but it can. I know I must have missed some inventing, and I’m sorry. Any progress on what you’re going to show your parents?” He did sound sorry.

  I gave him a head shake. “Not really. I just built utility items for the lab, then Claire’s Mom took us out for ice cream to celebrate her ‘almost’ having her powers.”

  Ray snickered. “I should have known that rumor came from Claire’s Mom herself.”

  That stopped me in my baked-beans tracks. Laying my spoon down, I asked, “What, you heard about Claire’s power? I mean, other than being there?”

  “The online superhero fandom is all over these things,” Ray explained with a bemused and tolerant look. “There are still websites devoted entirely to The Minx, and a rumor’s going around that her daughter’s inherited the power but can’t quite charge it all the way up to sex appeal yet. It’s not big news, but it’s going around. Speaking of which…”

  Ray slid out of his seat, and I followed his gaze behind me. Claire had just stepped into the cafeteria. Ray slid around the table and did an impressive job of not looking at all hurried as he intercepted her and held out his elbow. “May I escort the newly fledged superheroine to her seat?”