by R. J. Ross
“I don’t know,” Aubrey says, opening one of the dog’s eyes. “Um... his eyes are glowing.”
“What?” I ask, moving over to look. Sure enough they glowed faintly, a very familiar orange color. “Jimmi? Come over here for a bit,” I say, not looking away from the glow.
She crosses over, stopping next to me to look at the eyes. “That’s definitely--”
“Your power,” I finish for her.
“Yeah, I thought so earlier.”
“So you think someone amped him?” I say.
“No,” Aubrey says, watching the hand mark I’d burnt into the dog’s shoulders. It was healing even as we spoke. “This is more than just a boost. I don’t know exactly what it is, but it...”
“It what?”
“Reminds me of Jack,” she says, looking at me. “I think someone changed his DNA.” We stare at her blankly for a moment before I tap my earring.
“Nico, you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Is Star Born still in the cells?”
“Yeah.”
“Then we have a problem,” I say. Well, sure, we had a problem before that, but still--”Someone changed the dog’s DNA.”
The dog shifts under my hold and I’m almost too late as it starts snapping at Aubrey. I grab her, hauling her back even as Jack shoves his fist into the dog’s mouth. “Are you an idiot?” Aubrey demands of him.
“Heh, he might be boosted but I’m still hard enough to break his teeth,” Jack says. “Put him under, would you? He’s going to lose all of them if he keeps chewing like this.”
Aubrey groans, reaching forward and touching the dog’s back. He falls silent, his eyes rolling back into his head. “We’ll try to fix him,” Aubrey says, pulling Jack’s arm out when he takes too long. “But I can’t make any promises that he’ll... be sane again,” she admits, patting Jack on the arm and looking over at Jimmi.
Jimmi nods. “I just... why would someone do this to Tank’s dog?” she asks. “And why is he in Kansas City when he’s all the way from Texas?”
“We’ll look into it,” Nico says over my earring. “Until then keep the dog sedated--we have something that should be able to change him back. I hope.”
“Nah, let’s leave him like this!” Jack says. “He’s awesome.”
“We’re not leaving him like this,” Aubrey says, heading for the counter of the office. “Now all of you out, I’m going to bring in some of the nurses to help me out with this--you’ll just be underfoot.”
“Also, Aubrey, if you can get us a blood sample I’d appreciate it,” Nico says. “I need to let Star Born look at it.”
Jack’s cheerful expression turns dark. “Keep her away from my dog,” he says, his hands clenching at his sides.
“I need to consult with her,” Nico says firmly. “She might have an idea of where he got the boost from.”
“I’ll get the sample,” Aubrey says. “Now everyone out, I’ve got work to do,” she orders, pushing Jack a bit futilely.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, heading for the door. “You and your work,” he adds as we leave. “Don’t get hurt, got it?”
“Of course not. I can handle this,” she promises, smiling at him before heading right back in. We move out of the way as a dozen people in black suits rush in, and I look at Jack.
“Your girlfriend’s pretty amazing, isn’t she?” I ask, a bit taken off guard by that fact. Of all the kids in the school, Aubrey stands out the least in a lot of ways.
“She’s taken,” he says sharply. “Keep your eyes to yourself, got it?”
“I wasn’t--”
“Sure you weren’t. You’d better stay that way,” he says. The three of us head into the waiting room only to stop short at the sight of my father standing there looking worried out of his mind. He rushes forward, starting to reach for me only to stop a few inches away.
“Are you okay?” he asks urgently.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say blankly, “why?”
“You were in that fight with the massive dog--”
“Eh, no biggie,” I say. “His owner was way worse to deal with.” There’s this awkward silence between the two of us, which is promptly, and rudely, interrupted by the sound of Jack breaking into the coke machine. The door is swung wide open as he tosses the lock that held it closed over his shoulder.
“Hey, Vinny, want a drink?” he asks.
“Should you really be breaking into a coke machine in the middle of the Hall?” I ask him. He looks over at me and shrugs. “Fine, give me a sprite, would you?” I say, grabbing the can he tosses.
“Can we talk?” Dad asks. “In private?”
I hesitate, glancing around for a moment before letting out a sigh. “Sure, nothing better to do,” I admit, looking around for an empty room. There’s a little side room off of the waiting area and I head inside, dropping down on one of the couches with a heavy sigh. My head hurts. I think this is probably one of the longest weeks I’ve ever lived through--well, since the Collector had me.
“I...” he starts out slowly, making me look over at him. “You’re just a kid,” he bursts out, starting to pace back and forth. “You’re still the little boy I taught to ride a motorcycle--”
“I’m not,” I say, cutting him off before he starts tripping down memory lane. “Dad, while you were in prison I became the second in command of a group of super brats just like myself. They’re training me to be a team leader when I’m older--I’ve had two different Halls express their interest in having me,” I go on, which is sort of true. Even if it wasn’t Century that brought up the South Hall, it WAS Alonso, and I figure he’s got a lot of say in things. He’s the South Hall’s golden boy, after all. “I’m not a kid--I wish I was,” I admit. “I’d like nothing more than to hang out with my family and cook.”
“Cook?” Dad repeats blankly.
“It’s a long story,” I admit. “So why don’t we cut to the chase? What do you want to tell me?”
“I’m--I’m scared,” he says, his entire demeanor seeming to fall as he drops into a chair across from me. “I lost your mother this way,” he tells me. “I don’t want to see you going way before you should, as well. You can’t die before I do, understand?”
I look at him for a long moment before asking what’s at the forefront of my mind. “Did you really become a Christian?” I ask him.
“Yeah,” he says, “I really did. There’s not that many channels on the television in there, you know--but there are some fifteen Christian stations that are always playing in one area or the other.”
“So you were brainwashed, too, huh?” I ask, snorting with amusement.
“No,” he says, “I wasn’t. I have a lot of things in my past I’m not proud of, Vinny,” he goes on slowly, taking a deep breath and letting it out. “I was involved in gangs growing up, and I’ve never held a steady job once in my life. I always thought I was too good for the work I was doing. I didn’t even have a high school diploma, but I expected the world to be handed to me just because I was me.” He laughs, shaking his head with a wry expression on his face. “Sometime being told you’re good at everything isn’t good for you, you know?” he says.
“Sometimes all it does is give you a big head and nothing to back it up with. I’ve done things that still...” he hesitates, staring into the distance for a moment before giving me a little half smile. “Well, when I heard that God Himself was willing to clear my record if I accepted his Son, I couldn’t exactly ignore it. I told myself that I didn’t really expect anything, right? Said there was a good chance that He didn’t even exist, but... since when has that ever stopped me from trying something?”
I let a little laugh escape me, since I remember that attitude from my childhood. “So I went to my cell,” he goes on, “and I told Him flat out that I didn’t know if I believed for sure, but that if He WAS real--and this Jesus guy was real, I’d be willing to ‘negotiate,’” he finishes, now snickering slightly, himself.
“S
o did something happen?” I ask him.
“I’m sitting here, with my only son, just a year or so after it happened--no negotiations needed. All I did was pray about it,” he says. “That’s proof enough, if you ask me. There have been other changes, too. I don’t feel as angry as I used to, I don’t feel any desire to steal a fancy car I walk past. I can... I feel--like I’m not alone. Never thought I’d be saying something like that, honestly. Sounds weird, huh? But hey, I’m still really new to this, so I can’t explain everything that well. All I can really say is that I’ve got... hope,” he says with a slight move of his hands. “I never had much of that before, especially not after your mom died.”
“Hope, huh?” I say. It seems like a foreign concept to me, even now. “Well, long as you’re happy, I... I guess I’m good with it,” I say. Maybe he’s lying, but somehow I don’t think so. It’s not exactly cool to lie about stuff like God, I think. Not that there aren’t people that do it, but I’m pretty sure Dad’s telling the truth. He’s usually a lot smoother when he’s lying.
“What about you?” he asks.
“What?”
“You’ve got a dangerous future ahead of you, Vinny. Do you have hope for it?” he asks me.
Do I? I spent so much time ignoring even the concept of hope--hope that I would get out of the Collector’s box, hope that I would live a normal life--that I don’t even know what it feels like anymore. “I’m afraid to hope,” I admit quietly, standing up, “but... maybe.”
I glance up, seeing Jimmi stepping into the doorway with a hesitant expression. “We should be getting back to the campus,” she says. “The doctors say Aubrey’s got a lot of work to do and we’re just underfoot at the moment.”
“Yeah,” I say, heading for her. I stop, glancing back at Dad. “You coming?”
“Yeah,” he says, “I am.”
***
*Texas*
The sound of a television blaring is what wakes her. For a long moment she thinks she’s fallen asleep on the couch, and then the smells reach her nose. It smells like a hospital. Slowly Ginger opens her eyes, staring straight up at a bright light for a moment before blinking away her blindness and looking around. The television is to the right, where a small group of strangers are standing, watching the gigantic flat screen.
“Boss, why’d you send the dog all the way to Kansas City, anyway?” a large man in nurse scrubs asks.
“I wanted to see what the boy is capable of,” an old man says in a cold, commanding voice. “I’m not sure what type of game they’re playing up there, but I learned something interesting because of it. Besides, that dog always was a pain in the neck,” he adds.
Ginger gets to her feet as silently as she can, swaying slightly once she’s upright. She needs to escape. She slips her heels off and walks barefooted in the opposite direction of the group. Whatever they’re doing it’s a benefit to her, she thinks as she reaches the stairs. With them preoccupied--
“Stop her, would you?” the old man says in a bored tone. “We need her.”
She starts to run up the stairs only to fall onto them hard as someone grabs her ankle, pulling hard. She struggles as much as she can, but the burly nurse carries her over to the old man, holding her hostage. “Wha--Mr. Will?” she says as she comes face to face with the old man.
“I go by that now, yes,” he says. “Ms. Hanks, you and I have a business matter to discuss.”
“What is this about? Why am I here?” she demands. “I turned down your big goons already!”
“You’re here to fix my boy,” the old man says, motioning casually to a hospital bed behind him. “You were right that you were capable of fixing him, but you’re also here to help me out with a personal matter.”
“What’s that?” she asks, daring to glance over at the bed for a second. This isn’t a legitimate hospital, she’s positive, but the equipment is good, if a few years old. Why does an old man have something like this?
“You’re going to help me get revenge on the kids that put him in that bed in the first place,” the old man says.
***
It seems like everything has gone back to normal, I think as I slip into the hammock of Adanna’s little playground. The dorm group is gathered here again, hanging out after the fight as we wait to hear about the dog. I’m not sure I like the idea of Jack having a massive mutant dog as a pet, honestly. I mean, I’m one of the guys that’s going to be fighting him--
I blink as Jimmi slips into the hammock, pushing my legs over the side. “I want to talk to you,” she says, hugging her knees to her chest. It’s a bit crowded in the hammock. I don’t think these were made for two people.
“Right now?” I ask, glancing around at the group that’s blatantly listening in.
“Right now,” she says. Her jaw tightens as she looks at them. “I might as well just say it here, right? I bet you all can hear it anywhere we go, anyway.”
“It’s true,” Morgan says, “and those of us that couldn’t hear would hear about it from someone else.”
“Exactly,” Jimmi says. “I... I made a few mistakes in my past, I dated the wrong guy, hung out with the wrong crowd, but I’m not going to let that bring down my future,” she declares boldly, looking at the group as well as me. “I want you all to give me a second chance--”
“First,” Morgan says.
“What?” Jimmi asks.
“We’d be giving you a first chance,” Morgan says. “Dating the wrong guy is something I figure a bazillion girls have done before, right? That’s not even something that can be held against you.”
“Have you?” Jimmi asks Morgan. The blush that crosses Morgan’s face is almost funny.
“I ah, don’t have time for relationships,” Morgan mutters, much to the group’s amusement (well, except for Ward’s, he’s scowling, but he’s always been a stick in the mud). “But Vinny, if you’re holding an ex against her that’s just plain wrong!”
“Yeah, Vinny,” Lance says, grinning evilly. “What about you and your thing for Noelle?” he teases.
I wince. “Did you have to bring that up?” I demand irritably.
“Who’s Noelle?” Jimmi asks me.
“No one important,” I mutter, feeling heat creep up the back of my neck. Jimmi is glaring at me. “What?”
“You are such a hypocrite,” she says, pointing a well manicured finger at me. “You go on and on about my bad choices in boyfriends and now you’re hiding a girlfriend--”
“Nah, not a girlfriend, just a crush,” Lance says. “She went back to her own time. But part of the time she wasn’t even really her, she was actually Morgan’s dad. You had a crush on a GUY, man!” he hoots, laughing his head off. “An OLD GUY!” he says, falling out of his hammock he’s laughing so hard.
“Lance, dude, shut up already!” I yell. Jimmi’s just staring at me, her lips pulled up in a wicked little smile that I definitely don’t think I like.
“An old guy, huh?” she asks evilly.
“He had the ability to take people’s forms and abilities,” I mutter. “I’m not the only one that fell for it! That one blonde chick fell for him when he was pretending to be Ace, right?”
“Yeah, but we don’t care about her,” Morgan says callously.
“Are you still sore over how she tried to play Ace?” I ask, grabbing onto the new subject with both hands. I sometimes get the feeling that Morgan--
“Ace is vulnerable and she was trying to use that just to get into the Central Hall!” Morgan says.
“Ace. Vulnerable,” I say, staring at her.
“Ace is Dragon, right?” Jimmi asks me. When I nod, she turns to stare at Morgan in the same way I am
“He might have been vulnerable then,” Justin says, sitting up from where he’d been laying quietly on the ground. “He isn’t now. You don’t have to go all mother hen about it anymore.”
“Mother hen?” she repeats. “You should feel just as protective, you’re his best friend!”
“No, I should
feel MORE protective,” Justin says, watching her with a strange expression. There’s a strange little love triangle going on there, in case you haven’t noticed. It’s just Morgan who’s too oblivious to figure it out.
“Hey, what would you do if someone tried to use Justin like that?” I ask her, knowing I’m being mean. She starts to laugh.
“Yeah, right! Like that could happen--he’s a playboy, he can take care of himself,” she says, waving Justin off completely. Ouch, she shot him down even harder than I expected. I can’t help but glance at him sympathetically. He has a dry expression on his face--looks like he expected it, too.
“Does it get awkward?” Jimmi asks.
“What get awkward?” I ask.
“Everyone knowing who likes who and all the other secrets,” she says, “with the super hearing and whatever.”
“Yeah, but we’re sort of used to it,” Morgan says. “We’ve got a lot more privacy than we used to.” She hesitates for a moment, looking over at me. “Speaking of which,” she says, which means she’s about to change the subject, “it’s been pretty much said that they’re going to give you a team, Vin. Have you picked who’s on it yet?”
“You wanna be on it?” I ask her.
“I can’t, I have to keep a low profile for what I want to do,” she says. “But--” she looks over at Lance.
“I want to,” Lance says a bit shyly. “I might be useful in a team setting, right?”
“I want to, too,” Jimmi says. “I want to be there if they send you in for forest fires and all that--like Dad is for Uncle Flint. I can--I can help.” I stare at her as it all finally clicks in my head. I must be stupid, I think, my mouth dropping open, I was so afraid to hope that I stopped thinking, on top of it. What’s worse is that people have been practically yelling it at me for over a week, and I STILL didn’t clue in.
I need her. I’m not talking girlfriend or anything (yet, maybe), but if I had a partner with her abilities... “I don’t want to make it like I’m using you, though,” I say quietly, “you know, to keep what happened to my mom from happening to me--”