by R. J. Ross
"Dad says it's fine for me to be a super villain," Max says. "As long as I just make things look dramatic, not actually be that way. It's funner being the bad guy. And besides, Zoe's powers are more inclined to being the villain, too."
"I'm not going to be a super villain!" I protest, scooping the burger up with a spatula and putting it on paper towels.
"You'd be a cute super villain," Dad says. I shoot him a glare. "I'm just saying," he says. "You could build massive robots and sit on their shoulders--it'd give the heroes something to beat on. It'd make for a good show."
"Don't talk your extremely good daughter into being a bad guy just to make for a good show," Ken says.
"She's not that good," Dad says. "Seriously, Zoe, you're not that good, are you?" He's practically begging.
"She's that good," Max says before I can reply.
"When did being good become bad?" I demand as I hand over the burger to Dad. He's already gotten his bun ready. "I--I have my reasons, okay?"
"But it's more like acting than really being bad! Well, for most of us. There's a few psychopaths out there with powers, I'll admit." Dad takes a huge bite of his burger.
"Hey, I want to ask you guys if you'd be willing to come to church this Sunday," Ken says, making us all look at him blankly.
"Da-ad!" Trent protests.
"We've got a youth group--but lately Trent's been skipping."
"Because they all saw me when I started showing abilities," Trent mutters. "Now they don't know how to deal with me."
"He's paranoid," Ken says. "But a few of the younger ones keep demanding to know when he's started flying. I think they want to use him as a roller coaster."
"I'll go," I say. I went to church when I was little, but around junior high we stopped. Mom was trying to open up a business and weekends were important for selling flowers.
"I'll go, too," Sunny says, glancing at me. "But that means we can't sleep in..."
"You can deal with it," I say. "Mom would want us to go."
"...Yeah," he says.
"I'm not going," Dad says bluntly. "The idea of a super villain going to church every Sunday--"
"You're an ex-super villain," Ken says sharply. "Besides, I'm not asking you to go in full uniform. But fine, Zoe, Sunny, I'll pick you up on Sunday and we'll go out for pizza after church."
"What time?" I ask.
"How about nine?"
"We'll be ready."
My Dad is staring holes in my head--well, not literally. I wonder if he can do that literally, actually. I give him a dark look. "Don't say a word," I tell him.
***
"And here is where we will have you stay until the preparations are complete," the woman--Star Born, says as she leads him to a room. For all intents and purposes it looks like she's leading him to a first class apartment, but when he looks in the room he realizes there's not even enough room to hold his arms out straight at his sides. It's tiny, cramped, the floor looks like it's been scratched at with a machete, and there's a faucet dripping in the back. He can only assume that it was once a janitor's room. Er, from the faucet--not the scratches. He’s trying to ignore the scratches.
Right about now he’s starting to wonder if he's done the right thing after all. Impressing a girl--one that hates him, even--shouldn't include a room that screams torture. He finds himself shoved in as he's studying a strange dark spot on that wall that he's almost certain was once blood.
It stinks. It takes him a second to notice the cloyingly sweet smell of death, but by the time he does the door behind him is slammed shut and the sound of a lock clicking into place echoes in his ears. The only thing he can think as he rushes for the door, slamming into it with his shoulder, is that he really shouldn't have signed that sheet of paper.
Again and again he shoves into the door, uncaring that his shoulder is about to go out of the joint, uncaring that his shirt is tearing, as is his flesh, only when he faints from exhaustion, his voice straining from shouting for them to let him out, does he stop, slumping to the nasty, stained floor.
Really, he thinks as the world slips out of focus, no girl is worth whatever's about to happen to him.
***
It's morning. I find myself waking up at seven, even though it was decided last night that we aren't going to school. I just can't sleep. I had nightmares. Creepy nightmares where I'm inside my foster home again and there's a man outside the door, screaming for me to let him in. I don't recognize the voice, but I do realize that the lock on the door is starting to turn on its own. I reach down, turning it so it stays locked, but it keeps twisting under my fingers, unlocking every time I lock it.
I'm staring at the ceiling now, listening to my own heartbeat pounding. I can't seem to get that scream out of my head, wondering if I don't recognize it after all--
"WAKE UP!" The shout seems to echo through the building, much less our small apartment and I automatically sit up straight, still creeped out by the dream, now more by the shout. "Time for training!" Dad bellows.
I let out a groan, shoving my hair out of my face and wondering if I can apply for a new Dad with the Hall. "Um, yeah, Mastermental, can I get a different father? This one's mentally insane."
Maybe I can dye my hair and claim to be Falconess's daughter, I think as the door is slammed open. "Do you mind?" I yelp, tugging my sheets up so my... okay, I'm wearing a t-shirt, so it's sort of pointless, but still. "I could have been naked, you pervert!"
"So? You got nothing to show," he says. "Get up, we're going to work."
"Work? What?"
"You're going to help build Cape High," he says. "Go get breakfast started, would you? I need to put together a blowhorn for your brother." I shoot him a dirty look but he's already run off to find parts of a blowhorn. Reluctantly I get out of bed, digging through my bag of stuff for clean clothes. I lock my door before changing then head for the kitchen to see if we have any cereal. A few seconds later I hear a loud noise coming from Sunny's room. Is it wrong that I laugh? Probably.
I drop three bowls on the table along with the milk and a box of Wheaties, then go to stare at the coffee machine. Don't get me wrong, I hate the stuff, but if I'm going to be stuck working construction all day I figure I'll need the caffeine. Is it really true that it stunts your growth? I bet Max has drunk it all his life, if that's the case. Maybe I should ask him.
Sunny comes out about then, wearing his usual boxers and wife beater and looking remarkably skinny compared to Dad, who has yet to put on a shirt again.
"Would you please put some clothes on?" I demand, throwing a dish towel at him with a scowl. "There is a lady in the apartment!"
He looks around blankly. "Where?" he asks when it's not apparent.
"Me!"
Even Sunny laughs at that one, and he's half asleep already. I give them both a dirty look and pull the coffee carafe out of the machine. "There's got to be some sort of mental distress issue caused by almost naked parents," I complain. "You know, yesterday I could have sworn Fell checked out your butt, by the way," I add.
"First she's complaining, now she's talking about how her teacher checked me out," Dad mutters as he pours a bowl of cereal. "Make up your mind, already."
"I have--that's even more disturbing than you being half naked," I tell him. "Ms. Fell looking at butts--ewww."
"I'm trying to sleep here," Sunny mutters from where he's resting his head on his bowl. "Don't make me nauseous."
"You're supposed to be eating here," Dad says, elbowing him lightly.
"One or the other," Sunny says with a yawn. "Neither should include the words Ms. Fell and butts, especially put together."
I grin, trying not to laugh, but Dad doesn't even bother to try. He starts laughing as he pours himself a cup of coffee. "We'll get your training started while we work," he announces. "I want to see exactly what your powers comprise of, Sunny--I've got a good idea what Zoe will be able to do, after all."
"What, going to make me make flower beds for the school?" Sunny
demands. "Oh, look at the pretty posies, Poison Oak did those," he drawls sarcastically.
"Already figured out your super name, huh?" Technico asks with amusement. "Should we go tight shopping after work?"
"Absolutely not," Sunny snaps, wide awake. "I'm not about to dress up like Robin Hood for this."
"But you'd look so good!" I couldn't help but tease. "You could do figure skating on the side or something, you'd already have the outfit!"
He gives me a burning glare and grabs the cereal, pouring his bowl. It's probably not the end of the conversation, but I'm sure he's going to take his time coming up with a proper comeback.
"Not bad, not bad," Dad says. "Taunting is an important part of this job--you've already got the basics down. A bit more work on tone should help, though."
"Isn't it the villain's job to do the taunting?" I ask. "Would you quit trying to make me go villain?"
"But all the--it's the perfect--you'd look so good in black!" Dad says finally.
I give him a dirty look.
"Only the guys with the dark and broody past get to wear black if they're a hero," he says. "Yours isn't dark enough."
"So you can wear black if you're a super villain, no matter what your past is?" Sunny asks.
"Practically a requirement," Dad says. "You'd look good in black, too, but it probably would have to be green, considering."
"Considering what?"
"The elemental thing. Certain powers require that you come specially dressed," Dad goes on. "Like technically Zoe and I should at least have some silver in our uniforms. You would need green, my sister needs either yellow or blue--she can get away with blue. It goes on like that, of course. But the details, the cape or no cape, the major color, that's all up to you and your fashion designer."
"Fashion designer," I repeat blankly.
"Sure. The Hall has one or two, the villains tend to go to them as well--off the books, of course. It has to be durable, stylish, yadda yadda, but most importantly, it has to be something that catches the public's eye."
"More photo op than black op," I say, remembering what Max had said earlier.
"Exactly. Which is seriously why you need to go villain, kiddo," Dad tells me. "It also means you need to get over this whole 'good girl' issue and face facts. You're the perfect super villain--even the Hall would back me up on this," he says.
Then he looks at Sunny. "You, though, you'll actually be needed in real problems," he admits. "We can send you into the field when there's natural disasters, regrowing forests, dealing with oil spill problems, possibly--well, the parts that wind up on land," he says. "You don't even really need to wear a uniform, although I'm sure the Hall would complain--"
The doorbell rang and I glanced at the others. "Do I get that?"
"No," Dad says, getting to his feet. "I do." He crosses the room and heads for the door, looking through the peek hole for a second before opening it. "Really, Max, it's not even eight yet--shouldn't you be heading for school?"
"I'm transferring," I hear Max say. "I figure you can pay me, oh, thirty dollars an hour for construction work."
"Thirty bucks."
"I have gravity powers," Max says. "I can lift twice or more than what the average super can lift--and I do it without sweating."
"A little sweat never killed anyone, you know," Dad points out. "Admit it, you're just after looking good in front of my daughter."
"Okay, fine, I admit it."
"Then you can work for free!" Dad announces cheerfully.
"Dad!" I yell. "Don't you dare make Max work for free, that's abusive!"
"I was planning on doing it to you two, too," Dad says almost innocently.
"That's child abuse!" I bellow.
"It's training!"
"Construction work is not a form of training!" I say, getting to my feet and crossing over to the door.
"Hi, Zoe," Max said, giving me this grin that is absolutely mind-blowingly cute. Instantly I decide he's up to no good.
"What are you after?" I ask him.
"Thirty bucks an hour," he says. "Or we could skip work and go out for pancakes!"
"I'll take pancakes!" Sunny calls from the table.
I look at the table--only to have Dad head past me. "Pancakes it is," he says cheerfully.
"At least put up the milk before we go!" I say, giving up easily enough. I could go for some Ihop, maybe some chocolate chip pancakes. Yeeeeah, that sounds good.
"I got it," Sunny calls, closing the refrigerator door and heading for us. "Nice idea, Max. You're paying."
"What--if Technico is coming--"
"Hey, hey, heeey, if you're trying to impress my kid, you really should try and get on my good side," Dad says shamelessly as he locks the apartment door behind Sunny.
"Dad, seriously, have you talked to Mastermental about all those designs they sold yet?" I say, rolling my eyes as we head out of the apartment. "You should have money."
"Good idea," Dad says. "Your dad back in town yet?" he asks Max, draping an arm over his shoulders.
"No sir," Max says. "If I help with the construction work can I take your daughter on a date this weekend?"
"No. But you can come over and watch a movie with us."
"For today's work--not for the rest of the project."
"Deal," Dad says. "But seriously, I'm broke until I talk to your dad, so you're springing for the meal."
"Fiiiine--for Zoe--"
"Hey!" I say, belatedly. "I am not a bargaining chip!"
"Do you want pancakes or not?" Dad asks me.
"I want pancakes," I say after a long second of hesitation. "But they need to be chocolate chip!"
"Then you sit next to me at the restaurant," Max declares.
Wait. Really? That's all he's going to ask for? "Okay," I say. "But no stealing my pancakes, got it?"
"Deal," Max says, grabbing my hand. I almost want to protest that the handholding isn't part of the deal, but I don't really mind. I mean, a guy offers to feed three people just so he can sit next to you, you can't help but feel a little flattered.
Stop, Zoe, you've already decided that he's a flirt, remember? I glance over at him, flushing as I realize he's looking at me. I almost jump as he reaches up with his free hand to push my hair behind my ear. "There. That's better," he says, looking quite satisfied with himself.
"You're making it so people stare at me," I say darkly.
"With Technico walking in front of us, do you really think people will even notice?" he asks. I glance at Dad, then shrug and look down at Max's hand holding mine. Max's skin it at least four times darker than mine, I feel remarkably pale compared to him.
"I think I'm going to gag," Sunny says from behind us. "Seriously, you two, get a room or something," he adds, walking past us to walk beside our Dad.
"Sup, Sunny?" Dad says, draping an arm over Sunny's shoulders. "How about we have an eating competition?"
"Don't even think about it!" Max says, totally distracted from me. His hand slips out of mine as he moves forward to argue with the other two. I can't help but feel a bit abandoned, even though I know I should be relieved. I shove my hands into my pockets, following everyone down the stairs and out the building.
So... you know it's probably the first time I've had a crush this big. I mean, sure, when I was little I would think so and so was cute, or that I really liked this boy in my class, but that was easy. They never had to know that the freaky girl with the skunk hair thought they were cute. I wound up avoiding them more after getting a crush, I realize as I absently push my hair back over my ear, hiding the white part. I know that Max and Dad and even Trent have complimented my hair, but who are they to decide? Growing up in super families they've probably got really strange tastes or something.
Honestly, I don't think I'm really all that special. I mean, the moment another super powered girl shows up, I'll probably be forgotten about--
"Zoe--"
And Max will start chasing her and I'll be the stupid one left with a maj
or crush on a guy that's already gotten tired of me--
"ZOE!" The bellow combined with hands on my upper arms makes me look up blankly into my father's face. "You just blew up the stoplights," he says, making me glance above us. We're standing in the middle of a four way stop, the light above us is sizzling dangerously and Max is floating next to it, his hands out and several cars floating in the air in front of him. I... have no clue what just happened. "You can put them down, Max, you're not supposed to be flying out of uniform, remember?" Dad calls when he's certain he has my attention.
"I--I--I'm sorry," I say, realizing that I could have done some serious damage. There's a woman in one of the cars, she looks about seventy--I could have gotten her killed. I could have gotten--
"Don't panic, kiddo, just breathe," Dad says in a patient tone. "Breathe."
I'm trying to. My heart is pounding a mile a minute as I focus on just what could have happened because of me--because of my stupid powers. Blowing up the television is one thing, but risking peoples' lives? "I can't--I don't think I can hand--handle this," I say, starting to shake. "They could have died--"
"No, it's fine, it's fine," Dad says, dragging me into a hug. People are starting to honk at us, which is ridiculously stupid, I can't help but think. "No one got hurt. Max might have gotten his picture taken, though," he admits before pointing a finger at the cars. I hear several small popping sounds. "There we go, no proof," he says.
"This is more important than keeping our identities--"
"No," Dad says. "It isn't. Stoplights go out every day, whether you're there or not. Now let's get going, we still haven't gotten to eat." I try and pull from his grip, but I can't. There's a knowing, sharp look in his eyes. "No running off to pout," he says, dragging me along. "In this mood you'd probably mess things up more."
I tug again, but seriously, he's stronger than I am. He's also probably right. I glance over at my shoulder as Max follows, a thought flashing through my mind.
For everyone's sake it'd be better if I got over this stupid crush.
***
That night, worn out, sweaty, and extremely frustrated, Max steps through the door of the massive building he calls home. He tugs off his coat and tosses it so hard that it tries to leave a dent in the marble, double enforced walls. "What the hell?" he demands of the empty room. "All of a sudden she's just ignoring me?"