by R. J. Ross
I watch almost numbly as Blackjack--full uniform and everything--steps into the office. You know, back in freshman year I would have KILLED to get this to happen. The whole school would know who and what I am. That I'm special. Now I'm praying that the floor opens up and I drop down into it.
"What happened?" Dad demands, walking up to Banshee. "What are you doing in my kid's school, Banshee? They said you were off on a special mission."
"I am. I'm here to see if Double M was right."
"Right about what?"
"This isn't a discussion we should be having among norms, Blackjack," Banshee says, sitting down on the desk and crossing her legs. "As it is, the entire school's trying to get near the door so they can hear why you're here in uniform," she adds pointedly.
He looks down. He curses. I see his hand twitch and suddenly his uniform changes, turning plastic-looking and fake. He tugs off his mask, which suddenly has a little elastic cord. "What, to see a Blackjack impersonator? It's for a kid's birthday party, people!" he yells at the door.
"You showed the Hall ID," I mutter. "It's too late for them to buy it."
"I'm an extremely good impersonator," Dad says. "It's all in the details. Now how did you break a kid's hand?" he demands of me. "Did you slam it in a locker?"
"Yes, Dad, I slammed his fist in a locker for no reason," I drawl. "For crying out loud, I'm not stupid! I haven't done anything that might inconvenience you and Mom while you're ripping up the family. God forbid I actually step out of line--"
"Ace, I swear--" Dad starts out, taking a step forward. Banshee's hand lands lightly on his shoulder. It looks like a gentle touch, but I see Dad strain against it for a second and realize he's not moving. "Ace, tell me the truth. Your mother's going to show up sooner or later, I'm sure, and she's going to blame this on me, regardless," he grits out.
"He broke his own hand," I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest, "punching me in the face."
Dad stares at me blankly before turning on Matt. "You PUNCHED my son in the face?" he demands.
"It--it's starting to change color," Matt almost whimpers, looking at the hand in question. "How can I play football with a broken hand?"
Dad looks at him, a mix of irritation and disgust clear on his face before he turns back to me. "You..." Then he stops, looking at Banshee. "But he's seventeen," he says, almost childishly.
"Yes, he is," she agrees.
"Almost eighteen," I have to point out.
"So--it's--he's--" Dad stutters. "He's too old to be--"
"Now usually I would toss you two out for this discussion," Banshee says, turning to Matt and Henderson. "But you've already seen too much, so we'll deal with you later. Blackjack, you're an idiot. I've tried to tell you that several times. Look at your boy's eyes. He's clearly not a norm."
"I thought he just inherited them," Blackjack mutters. "He was born with them."
"He did inherit them--along with everything else. Now if you would get your head out of your--" she stops, and rephrases, "If you would start paying attention to details other than the ones that only affect your work, you would have noticed how he skips gym, withdraws from class, and has a natural effect on norms in the vicinity. A very strong one."
"But--" Dad curses and turns away for a moment. "I don't like this," he mutters.
"Like I do," I snap.
"Double M is going to get involved," Dad says. "He always does in things like this. I promised Viv that I wouldn't fight her right to take Ace, Banshee! She's always been the better parent, we all know it, but now Double M is going to get involved--"
"There's another option," Banshee says. "One that will work just fine, considering he'll be eighteen soon."
"What's that, off me?" I say. They're ignoring me, so I can be as sarcastic as I want, okay?
"No, Ace, we're not going to off you just because you're a cape kid," Banshee drawls, rolling her eyes. "How am I going to get my painting if you're dead? We'll leave him in your wife's custody, if she allows us to enroll him into the school. He can either stay in the dorms during the week and go home on weekends, or if he's close enough, run to school."
"Wait... you're saying I've got to transfer?" I demand.
They both look at me. "And you're honestly saying you want to stay here?" Banshee asks.
"You can't just barge into my school, out me publicly, and then demand I change everything I know for some school I'm sure I've never even heard of!" I burst out, glaring at them both. "What right do you have to do that? You might be my dad, but you've never acted like one! And you! You don't even know me!" I accuse Banshee, pointing at her. "I--I need some time to think," I mutter, heading for the door.
"Hey," Matt says, making me glance over. "If you are--you know--one of them... why didn't you dodge?"
"Because I didn't feel like it," I say coldly before walking out the door--and the school. That all the kids at the door had parted for me the instant the door opens isn't even on my mind.
***
The room is silent after Ace leaves, for a moment. Then, spluttering, Henderson speaks up. "He can't do that! He can't just up and--"
"Give me a piece of paper to sign, if it's that big of a problem," Blackjack says, turning on the other man. "And while we're at it, if some idiot norm thinks he's big and bad enough to hit a guy that isn't fighting back--and breaks his hand when hitting him--then he is the only one that needs punished, do I make myself clear?" he snarls, leaning over the desk and staring the teacher down.
"Are--are you really from the Hall?" Henderson asks.
"Would you rather I not be?" The room seems darker and the light over their heads flickers ominously.
"I--I think we're good here," Henderson says, rather than answer that.
"Good," Blackjack says. "Banshee, you coming?"
"I can't," she says. "I've got this job for a week. But you need to go talk with Double M."
"Yeah," Blackjack says. "Or... should I go talk with Ace?" he asks, looking extremely vulnerable for one of the top heroes in the world. "Banshee--"
"Go talk with Double M," she says. "He has some explaining to do."
"But Ace shouldn't be--"
"I'll call Max," she says.
"Max?" he repeats. "Not--"
"Max."
CHAPTER TWO
I have a headache. It's like a throbbing in my mind that really isn't helped by the bright sunshine. What I really want is someplace dark and quiet, but I can't exactly go home and hide in my room right now, and the clubs are closed. They'd card me if I went into a bar. As far as friends go... well, I don't have any. I mean, for a while I tried running around with some goths from school, you know? But they started avoiding me, too.
I find myself heading into an empty playground, simply because it's nearby. There's no mothers with kids to look at me like I'm a potential kidnapper, thankfully. I head for the picnic tables shaded by large trees and sit down on top of one, my booted feet on the bench. For a long moment I just stare forward blankly, trying to figure out what to do.
It's too late, okay? I wanted Dad's attention for so long, but now it's too late. It's like when you're a kid, you want a stupid toy so bad you can taste it. You get up and point when the commercial comes on, and you look to your parent expecting them to get up right then and there, but they never do. A year goes by like that, until the commercials aren't showing and you're starting to think about bikes and girls instead of toys. Then you come back and find the toy you wanted way back when sitting on your bed.
Okay, stupid example. Look, I don't talk to people much, so if I fail in explaining things, well... you can deal with it, okay?
Maybe I'll hit the clubs tonight, see if I can't pretend to be a norm for a little while. They never card me, since I look older than I am and I never bother ordering alcohol. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a good kid--I've tried it. It just doesn't affect me much at all. Even pretending to be a norm only works for a little bit, but that doesn't matter when a day's been like this. I fall onto my back, staring at
the tree limbs. I left my bag at school. That means my picture of Panther is still there.
"It started when you were... what, thirteen? Twelve?" The question makes me jerk, twisting so I can see the guy behind me. He looks around my age, but shorter, with black spiky hair and tan skin. Asian, maybe? I dunno. He's looking at me, though, so I can only assume he's talking to me.
"What do you want?" I ask.
"You were faster than the other kids--way faster. Stronger, tougher, you go to gym and... what? Stand out? My girlfriend says it's a rush at first, being the best in the group. I never got the opportunity to find out until later, really." He walks over, hopping onto the table and sitting down with his back to me. "I never got to go to a normal school. I don't think Adanna did, either, for that matter, I'll have to ask her sometime."
"Who are you?" I ask darkly.
"Max."
"And what do you want?" I demand, since he still hasn't answered that.
"It's a convoluted story, so stick with me for a bit," he says. "About a week ago something happened, something to do with you. We don't know what, really, since Morgan and Justin had their minds wiped, but Morgan's still trying to wash off the stuff she wrote on her stomach. Entire school knows about it, but no one knows what it means--at least we didn't. Your name is Ace, right?"
"You're crazy," I declare flatly, getting off the table.
"You're one of us," Max says. "And I'm here--as strange as it might seem--to change the future and do what Morgan wants to do."
"She your girlfriend?" I ask.
"Not at all. My girlfriend is a million times cuter," Max brags. "But Morgan is one of us. And so, Ace King, are you."
"So you're what, a freak?" I say. He's making me nervous. What? Sure he's short, but there's something about him that sends a warning signal to my brain.
"A cape," he says. "I'm already a working one, too. There's me, Trent and Jack already in uniform. We go to Cape High." He digs out a business card from his pocket, handing it to me. "Honestly, they're talking about having full out interviews and tests before letting people in, now, so consider yourself privileged. You say yes and you're in."
"Why did they send you?" I ask, looking at the card. "Cape High" is written across it under a school logo... and nothing else. Really, how is this marketing?
"Honestly? I've got no clue. I would have sent a hot chick," Max says bluntly. "Then again, they did send Banshee, right? Can't get much hotter than that." He looks at me. "Do you--"
"I like girls!" I say, feeling my face heat. "And yeah, Banshee's hot, but she's also old enough to be my grandmother."
"True, good point. Here, I'll call Liz--wait, no, she's insane," he says, pulling out his phone before putting it away again. "You can't have Zoe."
I stare at him. "You're the insane one. I'm leaving."
He gets to his feet. "When was the last time you talked with someone?" he asks as he moves to my side. "Really talked to someone, not just been lectured by or answered a question in class?"
I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to yell at him since the question hit home. "When was the last time you had a friend? Someone you have something in common with?" he goes on. "Look, Ace, we're not like norms. We never will be. So give up and come to the dark side, man. You'll fit right in."
"The dark side? What are you, a Sith or something?" I ask, snorting.
"Super villain," he says, grinning evilly. "I'm a super villain. And I think you should be one, too."
I will admit--to you, not to him--that I am shocked right now. It must show on my face, though, because I swear his grin gets more evil. "They don't care which side you pick at Cape High, you know. In fact, the principal's an ex super villain."
I stare at him, then snort. "What did he do, join a gang or something?"
"Death Canyon."
"A gang called Death Canyon?"
"No, he made Death Canyon."
"It's official, supers are certifiably insane," I say after a long moment of silence. I start walking again, trying to ignore how comfortable he seems to be at the moment. I'm not used to walking with other people. I'm not used to... well... other people.
"Morgan's not bad looking, by the way," he says abruptly.
"Are you trying to lure me to the dark side with cute girls?" I ask.
"Is it working?" he asks.
Well, it's not hurting, but I'm not about to admit that. "What happened with this Morgan girl? What's it got to do with me?" I ask.
"I'm not sure I can tell," he says after a long moment of thought. "See, even her own group isn't sure what happened, and I only know a bit of it because of... my circumstances."
"Wait," I say, looking at his profile as he looks away from me. "Maximum?"
"Yeah?" he asks, as if I'm just leading up to a question. "What?"
Holy--"You're MAXIMUM?" I demand.
"Not so loud! I have a secret identity to protect," he says. "Look, Banshee picked me to come talk to you--I think she sees what I see, man. You and me could make the biggest show on EARTH! I tried to get my girlfriend to do it, but she still blows up the larger machinery. But you! Picture it! We'd be on every news station in the world!"
"You're lying," I say. "You must have heard something by eavesdropping, or hacking, or whatever, and moved in on me before the good guys could, right?"
He grins at me. "I could have. Does it matter? You're going to wind up on my side, regardless of who gets to you first."
"Arrogant, much?" I ask with a snort.
"Can you really see yourself saving cats from trees? Running around kissing babies? Being in parades?" he asks. "Sure, that sort of stuff fits Trent to a T, but for you? Can't see it, can you."
"Trent?"
"Kid Liberty."
He's throwing around some huge names right now. I'm not sure he can do that. Isn't it against the code? "Hey, aren't you worried about their secret identities?" I ask. "Like Kid--he's still in high school, right? What if--"
"His entire school knows," Max says. "The school you'll be going to." Then he stops, holding up a hand and looking around. "Come out," he says. "Because I don't want to bother to hunt you down--but I will."
I hear a rustling sound and look behind us, watching blankly as Jenna steps into view. What is she doing? "I don't agree with this," she says, putting her hands on her hips. "I've heard about your school--it's a scam. They're just dragging in people that already know how to be supers and saying that they trained them."
"Who is she?" Max asks me.
"Think it's Jenna... something. She's a cheerleader."
"She's a cape," Max says.
"What, seriously?" I ask.
"Actually I've got no idea," Max admits. "I just thought it sounded dramatic. It did, didn't it?" he asks, grinning at me. I choke, looking away before I start laughing.
"I AM a cape!" she declares angrily. "Stop laughing! STOP LAUGHING!" A stream of air slams into my shoulder and actually makes me turn. "You! You need to get away from him, Ace! You don't know what he's capable of!"
"Sure I do," I say blankly. "I've got his stats on my laptop back home. Everybody does."
"I'm flattered," Max says. "You've been checking me out."
"Jenna, stop." We all stop, actually, as another girl steps into view. She's tall and blonde, but there are streaks of color in her hair--pink and purple-- and she is, not gonna lie, way, way, WAY hotter than Jenna. She's in a cape uniform and everything. It's ice white with light blue lines that just show off her curves. She turns big blue eyes on us, looking from Max to me. "Forgive my little sister, she tends to jump to conclusions."
"That one really is a cape," Max points out to me. I nod, stupidly.
"I'm Jetta," she says. "And since your school has been kind enough to set me up with my debut tonight, the family really should be more respectful, don't you think, Jenna?" she demands, glaring at her sister.
"De-what?" I ask.
"Debut," Max says. "She must be one of the ones Jack's been lined up to fight. But se
riously? Jetta and Jenna? Man that's lame."
"I asked for Maximum, but you know how that goes," Jetta says, staring at Max.
"Yeah, he's an elitist jerk," Max says with a cheerful grin. "He only takes A class or higher." The look he gets in return could burn rubber, I think, nudging him.
"Lay off," I mutter.
"Oh, I did," Max says. "She's fighting Jack, remember?" He raises his voice, turning back to Jetta. "I'll tell Jack to take it easy on you, if you want. He and I aren't that close, though, so it might not do you any good."
"I don't need some no-name to 'take it easy' on me! I'll do just fine," she says, her jaw coming up in a motion I can't help but find cute.
"No name," Max repeats, his eyes widening in surprise. "You think--" he bursts into laughter. "Tell me, do you have wind powers like your sister?"
"I'm much more powerful than she is," Jetta says. I believe her. Man she's gorgeous. I can't help but nod in stupid agreement.
"You have no chance," Max says, waving a hand. "Come on, Ace, we have more important things to talk about."
"Wait--you--I mean--" I stutter, torn. "She'll be fine, right? She seems tough."
"She's facing Cold Steel," Max says.
"She can take him," I lie. But there's this look in her eyes that I'm worried is fear, and the last thing I want is for her to be afraid! Er... I sort of know who Cold Steel is. Like she said, he's pretty no-name, still. But--
I blink as Max drops a hand on my shoulder, leaning closer. "Only if he throws it," he says in a silent whisper. "She has no chance otherwise. Look, leave them, they're being raised to be mini-mes."
"But she--she's so--" I say as he drags me away. "Freaking hot," I finish as we're out of hearing range.
Max stares at me for a second, then starts laughing. "Oh, man, that--" he says, practically howling with laughter. "Forget it, man! You've got more important things to think about than blondes that blow hot air!"
"Really HOT blondes that blow hot air," I mutter. "The first hot is a big issue here, you know." I've never had a conversation like this in my life.
"Okay, fine, and this could explain--" he mutters, almost to himself. "Look, you want to save the hot chick, right? Well, I know how you can do it."